Heading north from Bismarck, I had three hours to go before the border and just as I started to get tired of the highway and contemplate popping into one of the bypassed towns, I noticed smoke billowing up ahead from the village of Butte (population 70).

It seemed like I was the first person on the scene of what thankfully looked to be an abandoned house.

Not wanting to be a weird outsider found beside a possible arson, I went for a spin down the road and noticed that one Butte resident believes "No Commie Can Stump Trump".

It's been a while since StreetView has been down this road, but it looks like an unoccupied house even way back in the 2007 Streetview.

To head from Bismarck to Winnipeg, you either want to go east on the interstate and then north, or north and then east on the Trans-Canada Highway. It's not a route served by a direct northeast line, so even though the village of Dunsieth was pretty much due north of Bismarck, adding a stop at Dunseith's San Haven Sanatorium only added 12 minutes of driving to today's six hour drive.

The State of North Dakota created its first tuberculosis sanatarium in 1909. In 1911, this location in the Turtle Mountains was chosen as the site for a new hospital, due to reduced snow levels, plus the higher elevation and drier atmosphere helped with treating tuberculosis (as was believed at the time). Patients moved into the older portion of this building in November of 1912.

In 1957, one of the buildings on this campus was renovated to house people with intellectual disabilities, as well as the elderly. There were plans for a second tuberculosis sanitorium near Grand Forks around this time, but the state medical board called for a focus on San Haven. San Haven would then grow from one building on 260 acres, to 20 buildings on 940 acres; with tunnels connecting the buildings and stone staircases connecting different portions of the grounds.

Grafton State School was the big insane asylum in North Dakota and their officials partnered with San Haven in the 1960s - with Grafton officials then managing a "School for the Feeble Minded" section of San Haven.

The name was changed from the North Dakota Tuberculosis Sanitarium to San Haven State Hospital in 1971. It stopped operating as a tuberculosis sanitarium in 1973, as people had been treated with antibiotics for years and new cases of tuberculosis were going to doctors and hospitals instead of sanitariums. The Grafton State School took over the site entirely at this point.

The movement to close asylums and house the intellectually disabled in private homes led to the last seven residents of San Haven leaving on December 21st, 1987. The property was rented out to various companies who used the ground floors for a few years, but eventually the buildings were closed after state budget cuts meant that there wasn't enough money to secure the buildings.

The Turtle Mountain Chippewa Tribe purchased the property at this time for $1100, but was never able to secure the property against thieves, vandals and partying kids. One teenager died here in 1999 when he fell into an elevator shaft.

Over three years after my visit, the San Haven State Hospital was completely torn down in late 2025.

I didn't love driving my rental car on these icy hospital campus roads and sure enough, as I went to park, the Charger started sliding a little towards the ditch. At 3pm though, that was something for 345pm Navi to worry about and thankfully after a quick run through the buildings, I was able to finesse the car forward and left, to get back on the roadway and out of the Turtle Mountains.

A few minutes later and it was funny how quickly I found myself at the border after trespassing. The crossing went smooth, save for the border guard giving me a lecture as she said I should have filled out some federal trip planning Covid form or something.

The whole reason I cut my time short in 60°F (15°C) Bismarck and at that glorious abandoned hospital was to make it to a hockey game tonight in Winnipeg. A serious problem soon appeared though, as some kooks were moving a whole house on the highway and they had this big ass, spaced-out convoy.

There was too much traffic to pass all of them and this stupid rental car would be a real liability if I tried to get off the highway and do 105kmh (62mph) on a wintry side road to get past their dumb asses doing 80kmh (50mph). Finally after 50 minutes of losing my mind trying to figure out how to get around, they gratiously pulled out into a weigh station to let everyone pass.

Thankfully my motel check-in at the Queen Bee Hotel went quickly and I was able to throw my stuff down and get over to the University of Manitoba campus asap.

No, I wasn't watching poorly-attended and forgettable Canadian university hockey.

The Kootenay Ice had recently moved to Winnipeg with promises of eventually building a Western Hockey League-appropriate stadium. In the meantime, they were playing Western Hockey League-level hockey at the campus rink here at the University of Manitoba, the Wayne Fleming Arena.

Thanks to social media, I've befriended (or at least follow) a few people who have the same interest as me of seeing all the hockey arenas.

One interesting thing is that not everyone gets excited the same way about a team playing in a stadium that's below them. The prime example of this was the Arizona Coyotes having to play in the 5000-seat Mullett Arena and how some of the guys (myself included) were so excited to see NHL hockey in a smaller, more intimate venue; while others weren't going to head to Arizona until the situation was resolved with a new, NHL-calibre rink.

Although I'd miss out on seeing the Arizona Coyotes because they left in the middle of the offseason, the Winnipeg Ice presented an opportunity to see a CHL-level game in the type of rink that the Western Hockey League has completely left behind.

Of course I could still get this experience with the QMJHL Bathurst Titan at the time, so the fact that this was an odd footnote in the Western Hockey League also provided some unique excitement.

The Winnipeg Ice moved after one more season here, which didn't really bother me as I didn't have any skin the game - until I suddenly (a year later) realized that their move brought me back down to 4/20 rinks seen in the WHL and 32/60 in the CHL! Bah!

I obviously still count the team as seen when it's just Gatineau moving from one rink to another within Gatineau, but I can't count Winnipeg when they moved 21 hours west to Wenatchee, Washington.

The Winnipeg Ice were an absolute force during this time, featuring first-rounder Matt Savoie and Zach Benson, who would later become a first rounder of the Buffalo Sabres. They defeated the Calgary Hitmen 2-0 on this night (Savoie wasn't playing).

The only odd thing I remember about the Wayne Fleming Arena was when I questioned why there wasn't a tip option on the debit machine, the two university-aged workers told me they weren't allowed to accept tips.

Not allowed by who? Were they volunteer university students at a game with $11 beers and $25 tickets?

I have no idea, but it made me really wish I had some cash on hand.

The next morning there was a freezing rain warning, but there was something nearby I wanted to see and figured I could take it slow. I appreciated how everyone else seemed to be doing the same.

I laughed as the radio DJ yelled out, "It's not nice out there today folks, but we are in for a treat this weekend...three degrees (38°F) and sunnnnnnn!" As much as I think Corner Brook has awful weather, it's not so bad that three and sun in mid-March is hype worthy, haha.

Anyway, as I headed east, I liked that I was seeing portions of the Trans-Canada Highway that I'd only heard about from other people. Every time I've driven across the country I've cut through the States, and Winnipeg is the easternmost point where I met back up with the Trans-Can. It was invigorating to see highway signs for places I'd never been like Kenora.

Where was I headed today? Well to a lighthouse of course!

Manitoba may seem like an odd place for a navigational beacon, but this isn't some corny faux church lighthouse or a lighthouse pub. Manitoba is home to Lake Winnipeg and as Lake Winnipeg is just a smidgen smaller than Lake Erie in surface area (24,514 km² vs. 25,744 km²), lighthouses were needed to guide mariners.

Although Lake Manitoba stretches over 400 km (250mi) from north to south, there's a narrow point in the middle that's only two kilometers (1.2mi) across. Just north of these narrows is Black Bear Island, which used to be home to the 1898 Black Bear Island Lighthouse.

Today, Black Bear Island is marked with a cylindrical mast, but the old lighthouse was saved and moved here to the Manitoba Marine Museum in Selkirk. And what's that in the back? Another lighthouse? Plus some old boats? This was looking like a stop where it was worth risking an encounter with a little freezing rain.

When you add in that Selkirk has an old arena, great skatepark and the hall across the street was advertising something called "Erotic Bingo" (?), I was left with no choice but to crown Selkirk as my favourite Manitoban city.

The other lighthouse here also came from Lake Manitoba, but from the mouth of the Red River. This was part of a set of range lighthouses, but unfortunately the rear light no longer exists.

Man did these lighthouses make me want to set out on an excursion up and into Lake Manitoba. There's a remote lighthouse still standing on an island 300km (186mi) to the north and its now shot up my to-do list.

Anyway, nearby Gimli also has a lighthouse, but in hindsight I was psyched I didn't push through and further into the freezing rain since it's a replica (and I don't count replicas). Instead, I moseyed over to the airport to cash out and put an end to trying my luck with this slippery Dodge Charger.

The flights back were uneventful and soon enough I was back to dreaming of 50° days in North Dakota.

Although things weren't really that bad back where I live. There may have even been a few 3°C and sun days.

Thanks for reading as always.