Through the maze of wind turbines, we land in Altona. It’s -23 and snowing; It’s perpetual winter. I feel like I’m in a Cormac McCarthy novel, somewhat post apocalyptic, yet homey and sweet. The Road is clear, no sign of ice or of Mad Maxillian marauders, just a diner that looks like it fell from space, from a planet long forgotten
As the locals say “the best restaurant in Altona is in Gretna”. (Gretna is a town 9kms east of here). Word is that you get your choice of red or green jello for dessert.
Tomorrow is a day off, hard to contain the overflowing possibilities of ways to spend it. Apparently there’s a water slide at the hotel. Ice fishing? The fish aren’t even crazy enough to think a real worm would be out in this weather. Or we could pull on our snowmobile suits and walk to the side of highway 59 to visit the world’s largest rendition of Van Gogh’s “sunflowers”. A little known Altona fact, when the installation was erected Van Gogh himself would have been there except a) he’d been dead for a hundred years and b) he was too worried about losing his ear to frostbite.
The sunflowers still stand tall against the southern Manitoba sky We decide to stay in and watch reruns of The Golden Girls and eat frozen fish and chips.
Hey fellow Spirits,