We’ll get to Rosslyn Village’s agricultural background, it’s big weird things and its woodpile in a minute.
But what’s truly notable to someone blogging the world’s longest street is that Rosslyn Village is the first place that I almost locked my keys in the car. (Yet.)
Having driven from Timmins to Thunder Bay and visiting each and every possible thing in between, I thought I had perfected the art of pulling a u-turn, dashing from the car, snapping a photo, and jumping back in. I guess I was getting cocky. Rosslyn was the first instance where I contemplated leaving my keys in the ignition.
After having paid homage to the cow-on-a-stick, I heard a creak. Found at the old Canada feed station site on Highway 11, the white cow peers expressionless across the highway at a height of about 30 feet.
I paid no attention. So I took some photos of the two big weird wooden moose hunter figures. The wooden ‘statues’ of brothers Mike and André Allen stand against Highway 11. Being on someone’s private property I didn’t venture further, so their meaning is thus unknown to me. (Maybe they are northern Ontario’s version of a nutcracker?)
I had just finished taking a photo of André when I heard it. A light thud. A plasticky thud. It was unmistakeable. My car was a tiny city car. It had the heft of a Pringles container. That sounds couldn’t be anything else.
That was the sound of the wind closing the driver’s side door!
I returned to my car to find my door locked shut thanks to Thunder Bay’s crazy winds. Relievingly, the keys were in my pocket.
Now, that might not sound like much. But when you’re 12 hours from where you’ve been staying, and likely 24 hours from home, and your wallet is in the car, and your only other clothes are 65 km back, and off the main road to boot, that’s freakin’ scary.
Rosslyn Village seems to be the concentration of what is a tiny little farm belt just west of Thunder Bay. With 6000 people (combined with Kakabeka Falls), and corn and hay and dairy operations, the area is reminiscent of the towns of the Temiskaming claybelt (just replace Earlton’s giant buffalo with a miniature cow-on-a stick, of course.) And of course, Rosslyn Village wouldn’t be northern Ontario without a woodpile, which is visible on the south side of the highway.
The town of Rosslyn Village itself is actually a few kilometres off Highway 11, and considering I had driven more than a 1000 kilometres in the past two days I decided that I’d had enough detours for the time being and continued back to Thunder Bay.