The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.
Flin Flon is full of stories of people who initially came for a short time only to spend the rest of their lives here. But equally interesting are the tales of those who made our community a pit stop in a provincial, national, or even international journey. Over the years numerous world travellers have passed through our community. And luckily for us and our readers, The Reminder is often one of their first stops. There was Kanya Tanaka, a middle-aged Japanese adventurer who swung through Flin Flon during a nine-week journey across Manitoba. I met Tanaka on a frigid March day back in 2008. The unforgiving Manitoba winter had given him frostbite that he wore like a badge of honour. Tanaka got around not by snowmobile or dog sled, as would reasonably be expected, but by his bright yellow bicycle. While he could have easily booked his trek for the much friendlier conditions of summer, that just wasn't exciting enough. Tanaka wanted to brave the bone-chilling elements. 'If you are (safe), (it's) not interesting,' Tanaka told me through broken English. Tanaka brought plenty of experience to the solo trip. Not only had he traveled around the world, he was also a mountaineer and guide back in Japan. Fuelled by instant noodles and hot chocolate, he spent his nights in a small tent he carried with him. While this gave him shelter from the wind, the temperature inside still hovered between minus-30 and minus-40. Many times, as he cycled north from Winnipeg along Highway 6, passing motorists stopped to offer him a ride. 'I say 'No thank you,'' he said. Though his English was far from perfect, Tanaka knew the basics. When he could not be understood, he simply used hand gestures. He was alone for days at a time, but he was never lonely. Between cycling, setting up his tent, cooking noodles and mending clothes, there simply wasn't any time for that. 'I very, very busy and very, very tired,' said Tanaka, who made Flin Flon his final stop. It was far from Tanaka's first big solo trip. For over half of his life he had been scaling mountains and traversing the landscape of countries like Australia, China, Norway. He called it simply 'a hobby' _ which makes my hockey card collection look pretty lame in comparison. Another globetrotting enthusiast, Bernie Howgate, has been to Flin Flon multiple times over the years. 'What I like best about traveling is the independence of it,' he told me in 2001. 'At the end of the day, if I've had a good day, I can pat myself on the back. If I've had a bad day, I've only got myself to blame.' Howgate, an Englishman, had ventured all over the world on a large tricycle called a rickshaw. But for some reason, Flin Flon was one of those places that stood out. So memorable was his time in Flin Flon that Howgate not only kept coming back, he devoted an entire chapter to the town in one of his books Ñ Newfie or Bust. The nine-page chapter starts outs with a brief conversation: 'What's Flin Flon like?' 'Have you ever seen Paris?' 'Yes.' 'Well, it's nothing like it. Will that do?' Howgate then goes on to describe his first trip to the community on his Rickshaw. As he peddled from Cranberry Portage back in June of 1990, he relayed how the scenery began to change. 'The rocks were steeper, bigger and were soon jumping out like strip posters of psychedelic colour... Every rock formation within reach carried a message,' Howgate wrote. Once a high-paid mechanical engineer with his own company, Howgate literally dropped everything one day, hopped on his rickshaw and kept peddling. 'I didn't think I'd be gone that long, and I didn't mean to cycle around the world,' Howgate said. 'I gave a friend of mine money to look after my things for two years.' His incredible journey, however, went on to last eight years. And it was only his first trip. More recently, in July 2011, a Russian journeyer named Vladislav Ketov stopped by my office. The grey-bearded Ketov spent a day in Flin Flon while on the final leg of a historic voyage around the coastline of the earth's continents. Speaking in broken English, and with the aide of his website, Ketov offered an overview of his international treks dating back two decades. With the click of a mouse, he pulled up a map of the world. An orange line runs along the coastlines, illustrating Ketov's remarkable adventure. Traversing along the outer edges of Europe, Africa, the southern and southeastern parts of Asia, South America and North America (except for the frigid Arctic coastline), he had covered more than 144,000 kilometres. See 'Pulled' on pg. Continued from pg. Ketov is believed to be the first person in history to have completed this particular journey alone, without any support, an accomplishment that brings a proud twinkle to his eyes. 'Nobody never go on this line,' he said, pointing to his route. 'I'm the first and once.' With a youthful spirit that belied his 62 years, Ketov had perhaps seen more than just about anyone else alive. His worldly smarts were evident as he strolled down Flin Flon's Main Street, where different landmarks and storefronts grabbed his attention. Ketov immediately recognized the cultural origins of the cross sitting atop St. George's Greek Orthodox Church, visible from Church Street. And as he glanced at the rows of miscellaneous businesses, one name in particular stood out. 'Dembinsky _ a Polish name,' he said, pointing to the enduring clothing store. One has to admire the spirit of people like these travellers. They are utterly fascinating, and I hope to meet more of them.
