Back from down east (in the USA)

At the end of June 2017 we flew PTN to Yarmouth in Nova Scotia, as I recorded with great pleasure in this blog. This summer, again just before Canada Day, we took the plane across the border to the coastland of northeastern Maine, to spend a few days in the Bar Harbor area. As before, we flew through some beautiful but unsettled skies on both the outbound and return journeys. This post describes the home-bound legs.

Our route went clockwise, with changes of heading at the dots

Wednesday morning was a cool, foggy, wet one at Bar Harbor airport (KBHB). We waited till almost midday until the cloud began to lift (it was still raining, dripping in around the air vents) and took off on an IFR flight plan to enter the cloud at 300 ft above ground, on a heading of 040, not emerging above that layer until we'd reached 6000 ft, by which time we were well on our way to the beacon at Augusta. Never saw what Augusta looked like, down there. It is the state capital, not large. Before long, the unbroken whiteness did break up, as promised in the forecast, into cloudlets with blue sky above, and ahead of us was higher, summer cumulus. Our heading changed to a direct line from Augusta to KLEB, our destination, taking us at an altitude of 8000 ft through two or three MOAs (Military Operations Areas) which were inactive, fortunately, like the ones we'd flown through from Sherbrooke to Bangor, on Sunday. This route took us south of Mount Washington, the position of which we could deduce from the pile-up of cumulus above and around it. The mountain ridges beneath our wheels were steep and the summits rocky and bare, with cloud shadows in the forests.

Undercast breaking up

Cumulus building on the horizon, over Mt. Washington

Connecticut R. at White River Junction, from the Vermont side

Landing at Lebanon, KLEB, was easy, after a 15 mile visual, straight-in, final approach. I had informed the Granite Air Center FBO that we'd be arriving at that time (1:45 p.m.) and the girl at the desk had ordered a taxi to pick us up and take us to our hotel. The taxi was waiting as we rolled in; a ramp attendant helped us park and the taxi driver came straight up to our plane to load our very small amount of luggage into her car, thence driving us straight out onto the road. This saved us a good deal of time. She was an interesting person to talk to—taxi drivers nearly always are—she'd been born on a native reservation near Chicago, but liked her home on a hill by the Connecticut River, with human remains in her garden, so she claimed. This too was former tribes' land, with a native graveyard on her property. At Hallowe'en she makes the most of this, scaring the local children with "eyes" lighting up above the graves.

Main Stree, White River Junction

White River Junction, the locality of the hotel I'd chosen, turned out to be worth a visit. It's actually one of several little towns or villages that amalgamated into a town called Hartford, but on the Google map it's labelled West Lebanon. The other part of "Lebanon" is across the Connecticut River in New Hampshire. White River flows into the Connecticut here, and is brown, not white. The "Junction" refers to the two railway lines that have met here since the 1840s. Amtrak trains still carry passengers to New York and then Washington, DC, but that slow journey on The Vermonter takes over 11 hours, if you board at this station early in the morning. It would feel like a pretty long day. A gentleman talked to us at the station's Welcome Center, and told us about the trains and the town, how it has revived considerably since the 1970s, when the unemployment rate was around 40%. Nowadays, unemployment is at a very low percentage because the area has embraced modern technology (solar power, for example) and the arts (with several theatres, a college for cartoonists, galleries); medical and science institutions have been established in this region too. It seemed lively for a small place, buzzing with optimism. The town hall put on free concerts; the outdoor one we overheard went on for two hours! Next door to our hotel, a Turkish-American entrepreneur had established a restaurant, the Tuckerbox, where we ate well, served by a waitress from Kazakhstan, and a gift shop called Little Istanbul.

Hotel Coolidge entrance, with a thunderstorm coming

The Hotel Coolidge, was one of the oldest buildings in White River Junction. It has two square towers and a very long wing where the bedrooms are. We were given a sort of suite on the upper level: two bedrooms, one with a single bed, and a bathroom in the middle. Ideal for a three person family! The furniture, window fittings, hallways were old. The shower and its plumbing was ancient and erratic. We liked the place though; it had character. The hotel's owner-receptionist had a sealed-off area in the high-ceilinged lobby to herself. This morning she gave us a voucher form for our small breakfast at the adjoining coffee shop where the lady who served us was very insistent that it be properly filled in. I could have spent hours in that coffee shop, which had a sort of library in the corner and several issues of the New Yorker to read, but Chris wanted to get going with his flight preparations at the airport. The Granite Air Center was a comfortable spot too, mind, having Adirondack chairs by the big windows where you can sit and watch the action on the airfield, comfortable leather armchairs behind them in the rest of the room. There were historic news clippings and old photos on the walls and 1950s Coca Cola aviation themed adverts in a display cabinet. The FBO building has a completely solar panelled roof, installed a year ago, the output from which offsets a huge amount of carbon emissions, apparently a very successful idea. The receptionist gave me two miniature bottles of maple syrup as a souvenir when I paid for our Avgas.

Crossing the Canadian border (St. Lawrence River) into Ontario

So this morning we left Lebanon for Ottawa at 11 a.m. on a flight lasting 2 hours 15 minutes, via the RUCKY waypoint and the Burlington (BTV) VOR, before which we overflew Mount Ellen (4083 ft) and other peaks of the White Mountains. Cloud formation and development along our route seemed to be associated with the hills and lakes, in particular at the western edge of Lake Champlain where they grew larger and bumpier, gloriously white and bulbous from a distance, but with dark grey undersides and centres when you are in amongst them. Pilots of the large commercial planes were reporting "light chop at all levels" according to one of the controllers. We had filed to "climb and maintain 8000" but when I started complaining about the turbulence in the bubbly areas, Chris requested a descent to 6000' where we could just about stay below the flatter cloud bases. No thunderstorms in our vicinity earlier today, although as I write this in the evening, with rain falling, I can hear the rumbles of local storms. At lunchtime, there was obviously some "weather" over the Mt. Tremblant area in the distance beyond our right wing.

Clouds to the west of L. Champlain

Over the Massina VOR near the border, as we were handed over to Montreal Centre by the Boston Centre air traffic controllers, we changed our heading again, direct to Rockcliffe. The lower clearer air was also turbulent on that leg, for some reason, but we were congratulating ourselves on a most successful and enjoyable trip as we homed in to Rockcliffe. We made a dramatic arrival though. At the last moment, after touching down, we had a sudden flat tyre (or tire) and went bumpety-bump till PTN stopped in the middle of the active runway, necessitating an immediate closure of that runway (other pilots having to continue their overhead circuits for 10 more minutes) and Rockcliffe staff hastening across the field to make sure we weren't in too much trouble. We weren't. Chris had kept the plane well under control and had brought it to a stop at the edge of the grass. The inner tube had simply worn out. It was replaced by Pat and his team in the hangar straight away. Chris was shown the hole.

Flat tyre on landing!

To Burlington and back, on impulse

Not a very clear view of the St. Lawrence at the border

Chris wanted a day out during the long weekend, so we got up early and flew to Burlington in Vermont. Because of the hot, humid, high pressure weather, we were in a very hazy sky; Chris, flying IFR to cross the border, needed all his instrument skills to get us there because we could hardly see the ground at all. We crossed the St. Lawrence near Massena and then the Adirondack mountains, Lyon Mountain being the nearest to our route, then Lake Champlain. We've done all this several times before but not recently. The last time we went to Burlington was eleven years ago.

Two Cessnas on the ramp at Burlington

The customs officer was a friendly young man who gave us a courteous welcome. We remembered the previous customs office as not much more than a shed at the side of the airport; it's a smart facility now and, my goodness, so is the adjoining "Heritage" FBO! I can't help but recommend it: such a wealth of amenities, that we wouldn't have minded staying there all day. The ramp attendant lovingly tied down our plane, put chocks in and so on, offering to carry our luggage (although we'd only brought my handbag and two hats) across the apron for us. We could help ourselves to free hot and cold drinks, free apples, a choice of broadsheet newspapers and magazines, an integral "Café", gym and the use of a "movie theater" upstairs in case we felt bored. There was a sort of board room for pilots' flight planning conferences, the ladies' washroom reminded me of the poshest of posh hotels and the pilot's lounge was also luxurious. We were handed the key to the crew car, actually a 7-seater minivan, to use in town for the duration of our visit and at the end of the day, the receptionist gave us complimentary miniature bottles of maple syrup to take home.

Chris (with Tilley hat) on Church Street, Burlington

After having parked the van on the side of Main Street, leading down the hill into town from the university area (lithe girls in short shorts with long legs running up and down it) we turned right into Burlington's long pedestrian street, Church Street, apparently inspired by a young town-planner's visit to Copenhagen around 1980. He came back to Vermont and copied what he'd seen over there. Good for him! It is a most attractive place to shop and eat and watch the world go by. Indeed, the people there on this long, holiday weekend were a good representation of the world: all ages, all origins, all sorts, including some strutting transvestites in tights and sequins, practising their twirls for an upcoming Pride festival, and another young man trying to play a Bach sonata on a banjo. Church Street got more and more crowded as the afternoon went by. We returned to it after a walk, no, two walks down to the lakeside, via a Nepalese restaurant where we indulged in a delicious buffet lunch. Climbing back up the hill on the northern side of the downtown area, I feared I was coming down with sunstroke, so had to spend a little while in the air conditioned shopping mall sipping at a frozen yoghurt and visiting the Burlington branch of LL Bean.

Water's edge at Burlington, the coastguard station

On the hilltop in Burlington, with a view of L. Champlain

Flying back to Canada over Lyon Mountain

Our ride home was straight into the dazzling sun, once again in hazy conditions, therefore tiring for Chris at the controls, but we had no need to fear the growing thunderstorms as we approached the Ottawa valley; they were off to the northeast at our 2 o'clock. We followed the planned route over the designated 5-letter IFR waypoints again, one of these being named BUGSY because the nearest town was Malone, and crossed the border at the St. Lawrence just west of Cornwall, to fly to Gatineau for customs clearance before taking off again for a 10 minute hop, and homing in to Rockcliffe.

Cornwall

Back to Ottawa from Mont Joli

This briefly describes our homeward journey on June 30th. 

Last call at the Auberge Portes sur Mer

Rimouski from above

The weather was no longer rainy; once again we were in luck, although very reluctant to leave this part of Canada behind. As we left Mont Joli on an IFR flightplan, climbing over the scattered clouds, we followed ATC's instructions to climb and maintain 6000ft. St. Fabien-sur-Mer, as we passed it, where we'd been the day before, was under a layer of mist.

St. Fabien visible, St. Fabien-sur-Mer concealed by mist

Beyond Rivière du Loup we headed back over the water for 35 minutes in the direction of Quebec City, eventually climbing to 8000ft. The ripples in the clouds beneath us (dissipating fog) looked like water, too. 

Ripples of fog over the St. Lawrence

The clouds were similar on the other side of the fleuve, with similar mist in the Baie St. Paul and over the Isle aux Coudres (its southern shore just visible). As usual in this part of Canada pilots were broadcasting messages from solitary and remote locations, from Shefferville, for example, way up north, where all the airspace is unmonitored (uncontrolled), and from Sept Iles. As we crossed the St. Lawrence and approached the Isle aux Coudres area, we could hear that an American plane was preparing to take off from Charlevoix airport, and expected to see it climbing towards us, but its departure was delayed, so we never did.

Low cloud in the Baie St. Paul

By the time we passed Quebec, moving inland, the skyscape began to look more like what we're used to. Once again, we stopped at Trois Rivières for lunch and then flew home from there above flocks of summer cumulus clouds.

*****

The following day was Canada Day, not so fine and sunny. Although we did get outside, it was a wash-out. We had the Rockcliffe Flying Club Canada Day breakfast in the hangar with friends, and in the afternoon got soaked to the skin during a cloudburst in town. I have never before seen Rideau Street looking like a river, but that's how it was! In the evening came dryer, cooler weather and an excellent firework display, that we watched from near our house.

The return flight

Looking along the Toronto islands' shore

Coming home from Toronto was interesting, through a changeable cloudscape. Not such an interesting experience as the following day would have been, mind, since on that day there were waterspouts over Lake Ontario. Although the air temperatures had fallen rapidly, as we'd noticed, the lake water was taking longer to cool. A weak "trough" through which we passed on Sunday afternoon caused further instability: gusty winds and a tendency for the air to rotate. We did well to avoid those waterspouts.

Leaving Toronto towards a mix of cloud

On the Sunday morning of our departure, which we spent exploring some of the Toronto islands park, the weather looked fair, with fluffy cumulus and a strong breeze. In the afternoon the breeze was still strong, favouring us with a tailwind of 30 knots at altitude. Chris took us to 5000ft and in the larger clouds north of the lake the air temperature was hovering around 0º which meant that we had to keep a look out for ice on the wing strut, which would imply ice on the leading edge of the wings as well, before long. I thought I detected some; Chris claimed the drops were still liquid, but there was definitely a white frosting on both tyres.

Even so, I wasn't as nervous about the clouds as I had been on our flight from Marathon to North Bay in the summer. We're now in October. Among the clouds en route isolated TCUs were predicted, but only towering to 12,000ft at most, which is a lot less than 40,000ft. Chris teased me about the prospect of being tossed out in the high altitudes. The surrounding air wasn't bumpy at all, despite the wind, and on the ground ahead (we were flying along through or under the cloud bases) we could see sunny patches, which boded well. Over the lake shore to the east were sunlit, lower clouds, another promising sign.

Entering cloud-bases, with brighter weather ahead

Layers of cloud on the northern shore of Lake Ontario

Chris had predicted that we'd emerge into clearer conditions somewhere around Peterborough. We were somewhat east of there, over the "Land o' Lakes" when the skies began to clear, and the ground at our destination seemed to be sunlit, too. Where the clouds were denser and at their greyest, rain showers were visible and so were rainbows. The VFR visibility was superb. The winds at CYRO were light and variable.

Light and shade around Ottawa

Bananas at dawn!

Wheels up at sunrise

Having thought of the title, I had better write the blogpost to go with it.

We went to see our son George who was visiting Canada at this year's International Astronautical Congress in Toronto, helping his colleague Robert Hollow promote the PULSE@Parkes project to Canadian high school teachers and other interested parties (they have already introduced this Australian scheme to schools in Japan and the UK). Rob has been the co-ordinator of the project since its inception in 2007 and George is the chief scientist involved in it. During the week George also gave a talk about pulsars at the University of Toronto.

The idea was to save time by flying to Toronto in PTN rather than taking the car––it's more fun to fly in any case––but because of a dubious weather forecast for the day when we needed to travel (October 3rd) we realised we'd have to set off in good time. We woke up in the dark, grabbed a banana each for sustenance, and reached the airport just as it was getting light. We were the only people there, but we have a key for the gate, and the 'plane was ready, fuelled and oiled. Chris filed his flight plan on line and opened it in the air. We were wheels up at sunrise, heading out over the river.

Toronto, on a hazy morning

Which was all very well, but the commercial flights were taking off too, from YOW, meaning that we had to be diverted to the north (almost as far as Wakefield) while those large planes cleared the airspace. After 25 minutes of frustration we were finally allowed to cross the border from Quebec to Ontario again and head in the right direction, into wind unfortunately. The whole flight to Toronto therefore took us longer than anticipated, about 2.6 hours, finishing with a "visual approach" to the island airport over the lake, landing on runway 08. When we taxied up to the Porter FBO on Toronto Island airport though, all was forgiven, because there was George to meet us and help us with the luggage. He'd been following our progress on FlightAware.

 

Day 11: islands in the mist

The sales manager of the Prince Arthur drove us to the airport herself, in the courtesy car, telling us of her hopes for Thunder Bay and her hotel. They're close to the U.S. border so are always hoping for American tourists to create a livelihood.

Chocks away at the F.B.O. and an easy take off from the intersection of taxiway Bravo with Runway 25. We were flying VFR again, in the hope that the morning fog would have lifted sufficiently for us to land 220 km away at Marathon. There was no fog in sight at the start of this flight; we had an unimpeded view of the water beneath our wheels and our lifejackets on, again. We were flying last week's route in reverse, along the line of islands to avoid the straight line across Lake Superior, and as we began to veer east we did notice the sea of low lying fog ahead, with islands sticking out of it like lumps of pudding in white custard; actually it was far more beautiful than that and I did my best to get some good photos. The reflections in the window pane frustrate me though. Not until the last 20 miles did we realise that Marathon airport would be in the clear; otherwise we'd either have had to fly on to Chapleau without stopping or return to Thunder Bay!


Chris refuelled at Marathon, knowing how to work the self service pump this time but still getting his hand trapped when recoiling the big hose. Flying's a hazardous occupation! Fortunately a lady was at work in the airport who could tell us which direction to take along the highway to find some lunch at a gas station restaurant, so we didn't need to unpack our emergency pot noodles and search for a kettle. And the walk stretched our legs.

For the next, longer leg, were cleared to North Bay airport via YSP AR16 YLD RR10 YSB V316 YYB at 7000 ft, which meant we would be travelling nearly the whole route in uncontrolled airspace. With no internet access at either the restaurant or airport in Marathon, Chris had had to phone for an old fashioned flight briefing from Winnipeg flight services, and I'd only heard his side of the conversation, so wasn't sure what to expect in the way of clouds en route. They were small and low enough to start with, and we were soon through and above them on our climb to 7000, but after about 20 minutes the clouds began to climb too, and then we were disconcertingly in and out of the tops for miles. When in the clouds it was bumpy flying. Our few moments' respite between clouds were in smooth air. As we progressed, the clouds got higher and bumpier and more joined up, though I kept hoping for them to thin out, and they did for a while, around the half way point above Chapleau. Over the airwaves though, we were beginning to hear the voices of other pilots in planes large and small finding themselves in difficulty to the south, especially around Toronto, because big storms were building there.

North Bay with TCUs to the east of Lake Nipissing

The city of Sudbury with its famous nickel mine chimney came in sight 2 hours 20 minutes after our take off from Marathon, and then we turned left and said to one another, we're nearly there (at North Bay). But we had a biggish cloud ahead on our own route and despite the fact that ATC had allowed us to start our descent there was nothing for it but to go through the middle where it was raining heavily, dark and turbulent (probably towering to about 10000ft, not much more). Chris delights in these challenges, but I don't so much, and what it would be like inside a fully grown towering cumulus I don't like to imagine. We were probably only in that cloud for about 10 minutes and Chris was managing to look up waypoints on the computer and talk to ATC and so on while I was clinging on to the strap and making complaints. I hope he just ignores me. What a relief to come through to the Other Side and see Lake Nipissing and North Bay and, indeed, the airport ahead, all in sunlight and calm Visual Meteorological Conditions. We'd been cleared for the VOR / DME approach to runway 26 via DAVUM but didn't need it because we'd got clear of the clouds.

PTN (the C172 on the right) with larger aircraft at CYYB

After we landed two Westjet Boing 737s landed and taxied onto the ramp behind us having been diverted from Toronto. The passengers all had to stay on board. Chris and I could get out of our own plane and now we're at one of the Travelodge hotels in North Bay, and I'm going to have a swim in the pool. We ate at Wacky Wings this evening where you'd be able to wear what looks like a dead chicken on your head if it were your birthday party.

Day 10: Thunder Bay, again

(Thursday, July 31st)

View from our hotel room in Thunder Bay

We were intending to be in Kapuskasing or Geraldton this evening, but it wasn't possible. Needing to fly IFR because of the weather ahead, Chris was legally obliged to file a flight plan including an alternate airport at the destination, and there were none accessible. We looked at places ahead of Geraldton and north of Geraldton; they were all too far to reach with the remaining fuel on board. The obvious alternate was Marathon, south of Geraldton, but that was socked in with fog, below minima, in fact reporting 0ft vertical visibility and 0ft horizontal. Even if we had been able to approach Marathon and land there, we wouldn't have been able to watch the sun set over the islands in  tonight's rain. So it's just as well we have returned to Thunder Bay where the weather has been fine all day.

On our way to Kenora airport after breakfast we saw three deer. The taxi driver told us they have moved closer to the edges of town because of their predators in the forest, the timber wolves. The driver asked where we came from and told us proudly of his granddaughter who has just graduated from Cambridge university-- he'd been to England to see her.

We took off from runway 08, i.e. in the right direction, cleared to the VOR at Sioux Narrows on the eastern side of  Lake of the Woods, and thence direct along V300 to Thunder Bay. At first, especially, in thick haze at 7000ft, our GPS navigational aids were most necessary. The only landmark apart from the occasional view of the trans-Canada highway or railway was the town of Atikokan, at about half way, which had an airport and a non-directional beacon (NDB). The approach controller at Thunder Bay gave us vectors for a visual approach to runway 25 at the destination, where it was fine and clear, as reported ... and windy. When he handed us over to Tower, we were told to expect a landing on runway 30 instead (with 20 knot gusts) because the wind direction had changed.

The Thunder Bay marina, our hotel in the bottom right corner

Maintair, the Shell FBO, gave us good service on arrival, even booking our hotel for us at a considerable reduction on the price we paid last time. It's a better room too, with two double beds, an armchair, desk, plenty of space and the glorious view out of both windows. Downstairs there's a swimming pool at our disposal. Hotel slogan: "The only thing we overlook is the waterfront." All this for $89! This afternoon, Chris and I sat by it again, walked around the Spirit Park, etc., found a good supper at a Thai restaurant, and did another circuit of the higher part of town. All the time, our eyes are drawn to the lake and the sky.

Day 6: reaching the prairies

Indoor view from our hotel room in Brandon

We are out of Ontario, finally, and on the prairies now, at Brandon, Manitoba, spending the night at the Victoria Inn where there's an indoor swimming pool for families right outside our sliding glass doors. When I ticked the box for a poolside room, I didn't realise what that meant. We don't have any other windows, so no view of the sky tomorrow morning.

Morning at the hotel in Fort Frances

Rainy Lake on a windy morning

Sandbags in Fort Frances, by the Rainy River

This morning was quite different, with a view of the stormy lake at 6:30am, waves breaking on the shore a few metres away. We heard the waves, and the rain coming down on Rainy Lake, last night. After breakfast in another lakeside room we used our borrowed van to drive a few km along Highway 11 as far as the causeway and long bridges, finding a harbour where a float plane was loading barrels, a typical northwoods scene! Back in town (Fort Frances) we had another walk beside Rainy River near the spot where they held the International Bass Fishing Championship "with big money prizes" this weekend. The riverside road was sandbagged. Everyone we speak to mentions the recent flooding which is also the talk of the town in Winnipeg and Brandon.

Climbing out from Fort Frances

Our first flight today was from Fort Frances to Winnipeg. (Chris dictating ... "We needed to get our flight clearance from Minneapolis Centre but couldn't contact them on the ground. Cloud base appeared to be about 2500' so we took off VFR and got our clearance in the air. We were in or above cloud all the way until very close to Winnipeg. For about 80 miles in the middle of the journey we were not on radar at all. At Winnipeg, runway 36 is closed for repair and so, although the wind was from 020 at 15 gusting 20 knots, we and all othe traffic had to use rwy 31.") I'm glad it wasn't I who had to do that landing; in fact with my eyes closed for some of it I didn't give it the attention it deserved ...but did see how he landed on the right hand wheel on the centre line. "I unnecessarily flew the ILS to minimums, 200ft," he adds proudly.

Approaching Winnipeg airport

We had an interesting lunch break at Winnipeg, welcomed by a nice young man from the Shell FBO, very assiduous in looking after us, giving us a gift bag of wipes and a good quality pen when we left. It was a posh facility that doubled as the waiting room for occasional flights to Nunavut. The nice young man advised us to get something to eat at an outlet of Chicken Delight in the next door terminal, a sort of bus station for passengers flying to the First Nations reserves. It was very crowded with not very happy looking people. The airline is called Perimeter Aviation and its slogan says: We Put First Nations First. There were notices on the wall saying that passengers travelling to DRY communities would be severely punished for smuggling in liquor or drugs. The chicken delights were rather slow in coming and we carried them in paper bags back to the FBO to eat there.

Strange landscape at the southern end of Lake Manitoba

Canal emptying into Lake Manitoba

From an aeronautical point of view the flight from Winnipeg to Brandon was uneventful: at 6000' we were in and out of cloud until we descended for Brandon. Flying IFR we had to go via a waypoint called UDE on the V304 airway, so from an observational point of view this made a wonderful detour: after the colourful patchwork of flat fields, yellow, green and blue, we saw the wonderfully patterned marshland on the edge of Lake Manitoba and the flooded rivers and canals emptying into it.

Brandon and the floods

The Assiniboine River is particularly flooded.

Road in Manitoba

A grey-haired couple in a Cessna 150 approached the field at the same time as we did; we let them fly the circuit ahead of us, and both planes used the gravel strip, runway 32, rather than the wide, paved one, runway 26. Brandon Flying Club has premises rather like Rockcliffe's. We made a Facetime call to Mum from the pilots' lounge then ordered a taxi to the hotel, thinking it would be downtown, but it happened to be on the far side of Brandon, on Victoria Avenue where it crosses 34th Street. The north-south streets are mostly numbered, as we noticed when walking into town for our supper, as far as 10th Street where the Downtown Hub is, that the Brandon city councillors are desperately trying to regenerate. They've done well with the street landscaping and the flowers, adding an inevitable skateboard rink, but they need to have some places for people to live and shop in, at the Hub, otherwise everyone will disappear back to the leafy streets around the university, where it doesn't look so derelict and deserted.

Arrival at Brandon airport

Downtown Brandon

The Brandon skateboard rink