As soon as we entered the town of Dryden you could smell it. It was the smell of a sewer. Dryden had a Pulp and Paper plant that made the town not just stink, it was a stench. The town was under an umbrella of stenchification. But we were in the town, and I still wanted to see what the tourist brochure was talking about. I turned off the highway at the sign that said “business district”. I wanted to get a tour of the town, and while doing so, pick up a few supplies. We got our supplies and proceeded to leave the business district the same way we entered. But do you think there would be a single sign in town that would point you to highway 17? No. I even knew I drove past the mill and tried a few times to trace back my steps. After several attempts I finally got on the right road and back onto the highway, where the “suspension bridge” was.
I could see the suspension bridge as we drove over the sewer, I mean river. I knew where it was. It was just to my left on the highway. The first driveway was for a hotel. That couldn’t be it. Then we had to go down the road a bit and Johnson Park was there. That must be the place where the suspension bridge was, or so I thought. We parked in the lot, and read the signs. No mention of a bridge. There was a walking path. Should we take the path? It was starting to rain, or pour with thunder and lightning was more like it. I got my umbrella / lightning rod, and proceeded down the path. I was determined to see this suspension bridge. I walked for a bit, still no sign.
Then through the trees I could see the bridge. It wasn’t far now. We kept going and the rain along with the thunder and lightning kept coming. Finally I was at the bridge. Hmmm, not much of a bridge. But what the heck. I was going across. I had to close the umbrella because the wind was so bad going across the river / sewer. I got to the other side of the bridge to find nothing. I mean there was a platform, but no stairs. Under the platform there was a fence to prevent you from going anywhere should you jump from the end of the bridge. I don’t get it. Who decided to build a bridge to nothing, over a river with the stench of a sewer, and not put any signs up for directions to it. The only mention of the bridge seems to be in the tourist brochures.
My next item in town was the moose. It was Maxamillion the Moose. He is 18 feet tall and every bit a moose. The town celebrates the birthday of this moose each year on July 18. Not quite sure why he is there but this is moose country and the town has a festival called ‘Moosefest’.
After my attempt at tourism in Dryden, the town with a stench, I took care of the shop I had to do and found a wi-fi connection behind a hotel. I got the report entered so I would not have to worry about it later on that night.
After getting a look and a smell at Dryden, we were off. I was not sure how far we were going to go. If I found some area that was scenic and did not stink, we would stop for the night. Otherwise, we were headed for Sioux Lookout. Hopefully we would have better luck there.
We ended up driving all the way to Sioux Lookout, or just outside the town, and found a rest area. It was very scenic with picnic tables overlooking the lake. We thought this may be the spot we spend the night. We stayed there for a while, then decided to drive into town, just to get a look at Sioux Lookout. We got on the highway and immediately came to a bridge and a nice resort, that had tiny cabins along the shore. And there were people fishing in boats on the water. It was very picturesque. Then we kept driving a few minutes more and it began to rain, no it began to pour. I had to pull over. I could not see in front of me with the wipers on full. We have been experiencing this weather for weeks now on the road. It pours like crazy for ten minutes, then slows down and stops. The clouds were moving at quite a speed. Soon the rain stopped and we went on a little further. We did not see anything else that looked like a better option than the rest area we found, so we went back and slept in the van at the rest area.
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