A pronghorn antelope doe keeps watch as two fawns peer out from tall grass. -- Photo by Don Ryan

The moose probably won't look both ways.

That sign on the Trans-Canada Hwy. 17 may well have more moose-warning signs than moose. It's one of three Northern Ontario roads designated as part of the Trans-Canada Hwy., which my wife and I used to reach Alberta last summer.

Our first leg, Sudbury to Sault Ste. Marie, was a treat, a ribbon of smooth asphalt threading through bush and towering rock, with frequent dedicated passing lanes. We took turns driving and taking notes, with an emphasis on road signs.

Having just endured weeks of humid, 30C-plus weather, we chuckled over Caution, watch for dog sledders, spotted near Terrace Bay, on the north shore of Lake Superior.

Another sign reminded us driving west means changing time zones. Central starts the other side of Thunder Bay, past a sign declaring it to be the point at which all rivers flow north into the Arctic Ocean.

At the Manitoba border, a sign warned of mosquitoes; others showed the speed limit on the now-divided highway was 100 km/h, 10 more than in Ontario, and gave the welcome news that gasoline was cheaper.

Near Steinbach, the sky seemed to expand, farms appeared in the vast flatness, and a sign advised that we'd reached the longitudinal centre of Canada. (Make bathroom stops often; there aren't many trees to hide behind out there).

My wife, who'd always wanted to drive across the Prairies, wasn't disappointed. Crops were ripening and she'd never seen a grain elevator, a pronghorn antelope or so many bales of hay.

In Saskatchewan, your watch goes back an hour and the speed limit goes up 10 km/h; you don't have to adjust either when you reach Alberta.

The approach to Regina brought yellow fields of ripening canola and enough bumps and rolls in the terrain to relieve the boredom of a road that is, for the most part, ruler straight.

Overpasses are almost non-existent, so watch for flashing amber lights on curved overhead posts that alert you to places where vehicles either cross the Trans-Canada or enter it. (In Alberta, you may also see this sign: Very Important Intersection.)

We passed potash mines and salt lakes, then a bleak, treeless tract that might have been the Scottish moors but for the blazing sun.

A sign reading Roadside Turnout was a puzzle, but meant a place to pull off.

The Trans-Canada splits just west of Thunder Bay. Instead of returning via Hwy. 17, we hung a right near Kenora and followed Hwy. 71 along Lake of the Woods to Hwy. 11.

Number 11 lacks dedicated passing lanes but gets less traffic and boasts a huge causeway over Rainy Lake, just east of Fort Frances. Near Atikokan, a sign declares that all rivers from there flow south to the Atlantic.

Leaving Thunder Bay, we again oohed and aahed over the scenery as the road swooped and soared along the north shore of Lake Superior. Between White River and Wawa, a young bear loped across the highway two cars in front of us, a cow moose grazed contentedly beside the highway, and one last sign made the notebook -- Fungus Lake.