-----Our phones, unable to get reception throughout Canada, did not understand that we had effectively entered a different time zone yesterday upon our arrival in Saskatchewan. When setting our alarms for this morning, I remembered to set it an hour ahead of when we actually wanted to get up ... but my mom didn't, and hers went off at half-past six ... so I'm told. (I was still out.)

-----What lay ahead of us was one of our longest drives yet, and it began northwest out of Saskatoon. Prairies continued for miles as the terrain once again became the Saskatchewanian nothingness to which we had long since become accustomed.

-----Fortunately, this day was replete with the occasional stops we'd sought after yesterday, allowing for stretching and driver switches, and it was not too long until we came to the city of North Battleford. Though the signs say "The Battlefords," only North Battleford is of any size, dwarfing Battleford by comparison. This is not to say that it's a big city by any stretch; it's a population center, and it had what we were looking for: gas station and a Wal-Mart.

-----The gas station was unexpectedly full-service and those who worked there seemed to look at us askance for not knowing offhand their Canadian business customs. The thought that we might be from points elsewhere did not occur to them, although the gap between our accents and theirs grow by the kilometer. Foreigners must not roll through the Battlefords very often. After this, we bought a car wash and drove through before going to Wal-Mart.

-----Why on Earth, you might ask, were we in a Wal-Mart? Supplies. Cheap supplies for the Alaska Highway needed to be acquired, and we didn't want closer locations to have higher prices. We got bottled water, non-perishable food items, and windshield-wiper fluid, and looked for a squeegee to no avail. Squeegees notwithstanding, we pressed on, as we didn't want to spend any more time in a Wal-Mart than we absolutely had to.

-----From North Battleford there were nothing but small farming towns as Trans-Canada Highway 16 led northwest towards Alberta, and as we approached the town of Lloydminster, it became officially the furthest north I've ever been. Lloydminster straddles the border of Saskatchewan and Alberta, and we attempted to get information at the Alberta welcome center outside its borders, but to no avail, as the welcome center doesn't open until Friday.

-----We ate lunch at the Canadian Brewhouse in Lloydminster, where we dined on club sandwiches before continuing on the road. The road out took us on a nearly straight shot to Edmonton, where we picked up an increasing amount of traffic as we swung out in a beltway around the distant cluster of skyscrapers that constitute the Edmonton downtown.

-----We rejoined Trans-Canada 16 on the other side, stopping for gas in an Edmonton suburb before striking back out for the last hour and a half to Whitecourt. As the last of the suburbs fell away, we approached the interchange with Alberta Route 43, and its sign read, in part, "to Alaska Highway." The first sign is under our belts.

-----As Route 43 snaked further up and into the forested wilderness, it soon was just us and a few enterprising truckers on a four-lane highway. Potholes were a minor problem, as was dust kicked up by the aforementioned trucks and the occasional local rancher. Mostly, the drive was pleasant, if a tad monotonous. The sky went on forever as we went ever further north.

-----Our northward journey came to a conclusion in Whitecourt. It's mostly an industrial town and thus somewhat rough around the edges, but it's full of classic Canadian friendliness. It's bisected by a hill; half the town lives on top of the hill and half on the bottom, with two road arteries connecting the halves.

-----After checking into our hotel, we went back out, up the hill and to Liberty Donair, a prized local hole-in-the-wall specializing in donairs so large that their smalls would pass for larges in the minds of any rational person. We entertained the friendly cashier with our lighthearted demeanor and got three "small" donairs. I got something called the Inferno, which had—atop the slow-roasted meat and sweet sauce found on all donairs—a special spicy sauce as well as hot peppers and banana peppers, all of which contributed to a mild warmth about halfway through. My mom got more of a basic donair, while my dad got one that was basically a gyro in all but sauce and meat spice.

-----A particular feature of Liberty Donairs is that they have an extensive and highly versatile milkshake menu where two flavors can be combined ad libitum. This was, of course, a highly exciting revelation, and we settled on my maple caramel, my dad's maple french vanilla (which was to be maple coffee, but they were out of the latter), and my mom's maple coconut. All of them, by our individual assessment, began with the maple flavor that left an aftertaste of the other.

-----Tomorrow: we trek across what remains of Alberta and into British Columbia. The Alaska Highway begins.