  Cross-Country Cooper, Day four; 2010 Mini Cooper S 50 Camden at Bethune, SK. Click image to enlarge |
Day 4: Weyburn, Saskatchewan to Edmonton, Alberta (895 km)
From Weyburn there is a choice to be made. Take the Trans-Canada Highway 1 through Medicine Hat, Calgary and Kelowna, or head to the Yellowhead Highway (Trans-Canada Highway 16) via Regina, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Jasper, then down to Kamloops and on to Vancouver. Local knowledge has recommended the Yellowhead route, even though it’s longer, because it’s mostly four-lane, high-speed, and with minimal obstruction due to trucks and trailers. As mine is more of a Jack Kerouac blitz across the country, rather than an edifying meander, I chose the Yellowhead.
Highway 39 northwest from Weyburn is a busy road with a speed limit vastly exceeded by the locals. It’s also bumpy and rough in places, producing a noisy driving experience in the Mini (the aggregate is course, like in Newfoundland).
However, fuel consumption is now pinned at 6.3 L/100km, which gives the Mini an easy 750 km per tank. If this was a fuel economy run, one could lose the automatic climate control, and maybe decrease consumption by a further five per cent. But the outside temperature on this trip is nudging 30-degrees and I won’t do without “air.” The Mini definitely seems to like higher cruising speeds, though, and settles right in.
   Cross-Country Cooper, Day four. Click image to enlarge |
At Regina I feared my GPS was having another “senior moment” as she (“Karen” is the name Garmin has assigned her; an Australian avatar with a somewhat impatient demeanour) unexpectedly pointed me east. The reason, it turned out, is that Regina has a ring road, and this means you have to go east for a while, in order to eventually go west. So she was on her game after all (I remained skeptical).
But gone are the charming rest stops, to be replaced with the stark utility of Canadian roadside amenities, as found at Bethune. Well, that’s not entirely fair, as it is a pretty spot next to the historic Fort Ellice-Elbow Trail, with some picnic tables and an historic marker. But no cold soft drinks, no sparkling loo’s, no glass-walled or redbrick structures filled with brochures, maps and baby change rooms. Everything is, shall we say, outhouse-functional.
  2010 Mini Cooper S 50 Camden. Click image to enlarge |
I did forget to mention the town of Craik: “The friendliest place by a dam site.” Who could argue with that?
Beyond Regina on the multi-lane Hwy 11, I headed toward “The Battlefords,” which sounds like a squabbling couple, but turns out to be two places of the North and South variety. Karen is now habitually finding herself off the road, and barking instructions for me to “Please drive to the highlighted route.” She seems truly distraught at finding herself in the middle of a field with no actual road to get back onto the highway. Of course, we’re on the highway, and she’s gone ditzy.
At any rate, I find Saskatoon without Karen’s help; another bustling town en route, where the promise of a coffee at Tim Hortons is dashed by the fact that this particular location is under construction. Indeed, fast food joints are spreading like Virginia Creeper in Saskatchewan, and I note a particular opportunity for vendors of the donut.
It’s at Saskatoon, though, that I first officially connect with the Yellowhead Highway (called the Yellowhead Route in Saskatchewan), complete with special roadside signs, as the Trans-Canada Highway 16 “Yellowhead” continues its long journey west from Winnipeg, Manitoba. At North Battleford, the highway is smooth but undulates, which is a surface not suited for the Mini’s short wheelbase. After a stretch of behaving like a “nodder” behind the wheel, the road becomes a quiet strip along which the Mini virtually floats without road or wind noise at all. This highway is built for speed, and all vehicles are making time.
Speaking of the Mini, you’ll notice I haven’t mentioned too much about it recently, and that’s because there are no real issues. A friend e-mailed to ask if it’s comfortable in this small car on such a long trip, and the answer is “yes.” It remains fun to drive even after a couple of thousand kilometres, there isn’t the slightest rattle or noise, the seat is well-designed and doesn’t tire the driver, the engine speed — even at 120 km/h — is barely over 3,000 r.p.m., and the Bose audio produces quality sound to help pass the time.
  Waiting at a level crossing; Crossing from Saskatchewan into Alberta, at an intersection in Lloydminster. Click image to enlarge |
What would be good is an extra power point (to simultaneously accommodate phone and GPS), a centre armrest (it’s optional; I prefer it), a more prominent digital speedometer in front of the driver (the large, centrally located analog speedometer looks cool, but is not easy to read, and the digital option is not big enough), and slightly larger sunvisors (likely not possible, but these guys are pint-sized). I’d also like an A and B four-digit trip odometer (this car’s single trip-meter turns over at 999, which is probably a week’s vacation in Europe, but not enough for a day-trip in North America). One more thing, the door makes a really unappealing “clack” when you shut it. Even if you give it a bit of a slam, it clacks. Doesn’t sound good.
After unceremoniously crossing the border to Alberta at an intersection in Lloydminster, the landscape becomes rugged and industrial again. But more importantly, the temperature dropped by 20 degrees as a cold front brought rain and high winds. An opportunity to stop in at Vegreville (which in the failing light I initially misread as Veggieville…) was therefore postponed, along with the chance to get a close-up look at the “world’s largest Pylanka.” Darn…
