Adventure day!

Adventure!

Today was rainy and chilly day, not good for hiking on potentially muddy hill trails, so we decided to visit one of our old haunts, a favourite town named Eastend, on the east end of the Cypress Hills. A few years ago, while there, we hiked on Old-Man-On-His-Back, named by the First Nations people who lived there for thousands of years. The owners of the land had given it to the Nature Conservancy of Canada, because it was land that had never been “broken,” or plowed. It as all native grass and cactus. A weird experience to be walking on land that has never been subject to the depredations of white society.

We struck out across country, driving into heavier and heavier rain as we went. We drew near our destination after about 90 minutes o driving. We had left the paved road, and were driving on a good gravel road. Suddenly, the car began to slew right and left, and the “Slide” light flashed from the dashboard. I realized –not quickly enough – that the road had ceased to be “good gravel” and was now mud, with a few pebbles on top! The mud displayed two characteristics: it was slick and slippery, and it rolled up on our wheels.

I managed to get turned around in order to get off the two hundred yard stretch of mud on which we sat. As we started back, a pickup truck came up the rise, slewing right and left, and racing past us. The Prius, either by design or malfunction (we’ll find out on Monday) would not pick up speed, but moved very slowly, no mater what I did with the gas pedal. I suspect it was a design feature, because the car moved over the mud very slowly, virtually inch by inch, until we were finally back on gravel.

To add to the tension, we discovered that the meadow to the south (our left) contained a herd of about 100 bison, who began running this was and that, in circles. They ran toward us, turned and ran past, about 20 yards away. They crossed the road 50 yards behind us! Imagine, being on the edge, almost in the middle, of a bison stampede! It was…tense.

We had a 20-kilometer drive on gravel before we reached the highway, and it was raining hard enough that the road was two water-filled ruts in the gravel. I haven’t driven on a road like that since I was a student, and that was 60 years ago! At last we reached the highway, and started for Eastend. The car, however, was shuddering as we drove, quite noticeably above 80 km per hour. I had noticed, while checking after the mud episode, that our wheel wells were packed with mud, touching the tires at the rear. I suspected the buildup of gooey crap was the cause of the problem…but I wasn’t sure.

In Shaunavon, we stopped for lunch at a bar that ripped us off for $45 for a lunch of soup and a small salad. Then to a car wash to get the gunk off the car, and out of the wheels as much as I could. The car was considerably better after that. However, tomorrow, I will attack the buildup of mud inside the wheels. Once home on the weekend, Beatrix will have the whole thing checked out with Toyota.

The gravel and mud drive was exhausting. I had to literally wrestle with the steering wheel to keep the car in the ruts, and not off the road. Plowing through the water filled ruts washed the bulk of the sticky and slimy gunk out of the wheel wells. The mud was like that from the oil fields: brown yellow, with oil in it. It sticks like glue and stains every fabric it touches. I managed to keep it off my clothes.

So…we had an adventure, but not the kind we planned. And we missed spending any time in Eastend, and visiting the grave the soldier whose body was repatriated from a German military cemetery, where he was mistakenly interred 70 years ago. He “came home” to Eastend, after his grandson’s exhaustive search for him in archives and records. The re-burial was last week, with full military honours, a color guard, and a cadre of veterans groups and US military. He had joined the US army, and died in their uniform. The confusion came because he had wrapped himself in a German raincoat or cape, taken from a copse, because the US troops were ill equipped for the early onset of winter in the fall of 1944 in the Ardennes.

By eight thirty tonight, I was ready for bed, but decided to record the day before turning in. Hopefully, tomorrow – our last day here – will be quieter!

Yum, yum!

Addendum To my last blog: Food in Val Marie. This town is in the Canadian province of Saskatchewan. That name is a Cree word for “swiftly flowing river.’ Ironically, there is a small city in Saskatchewan named “Swift Current!” Talk about redundancy!

But this is about food. Tonight in the Harvest Moon Cafe, the Special was “Cheese Chili Dogs, one or two.” Where else in the world would a hot dog, with bean and chili sauce, covered with cheddar, be a “special.” Only in Saskatchewan…and it was delicious! To top it off, the super duper dessert for the night was “Fried Saskatoon berry perogies, with rhubarb ice cream.”

I never expect to see that item on another menu as long as I live! Pure Saskatchewan…and it, too, was delicious. We each had this, knowing that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Can you imagine the fun we had poring over the menu, and tucking into these ridiculous items…which were both wonderful!

Think about some of the unique and weird menu items that appear in your part of the world, and appreciate the weirdness and wonderfulness of them! And have them the next time you eat out!

Vacation highlights…

Nearing the end of formal vacation. It has been a wonderful two and one half weeks, so far. The birthday celebration in Winnipeg was very special, over the top, wonderful. My children went all out to fete me. Party, dinner out, trips to the newly reorganized Zoo, and the Fort Whyte nature centre. We had a lovely visit with Joe and Caley, Angus and Emma in Brandon on our way to Moose Jaw.

Never having been to Moose Jaw before, I was surprised by it all. There are some magnificent turn-of-the-twentieth-century homes in the city. I keep wondering where they found the money to build them. I’d love to read an economic history of Moose Jaw to unravel that mystery.

Our B&B was an old mansion, built at the top the escarpment, overlooking the Wakamow Valley and River. Great views, wonderful walk through a series of seven parks along the river. Each walking bridge over the Wakamow River is named for a First Nations tribe. I discovered the Assiniboine, the Cree, and the Blackfoot. I believe there were two others I didn’t find.

The Al Capone tunnels under the city were a good show. The story: Al Capone used Moose Jaw as his headquarters for running booze into the Us in the 20’s of the last century. The Soo line ran from Moose Jaw to Minneapolis and then Chicago, where his stuff was off-loaded. He made, reportedly, some millions of dollars weekly. There are some who doubt the total veracity of the story in its full-blown form, but the young actors portraying the characters in the story do a great job of conveying the message.

The second tunnel tour was less “fun” and more sobering. It told the story of the host of despised Chinese immigrants who arrived in Moose Jaw, and who worked in an elaborate underground laundry. Whether fully truthful or partly, the tunnel story made very clear the blatant racism and hatred that was heaped on the Chinese in those early years. They were paid pennies a day, and only paid back their passage after five years or more! Some Saskatchewan residents on the tour were quite vehement in their denial of the factuality of the story, There is, apparently, no archival evidence to support it. And there seems to be a relatively small Chinese community remaining in Moose Jaw. My thought was, “Why would they document this story? It is a shameful blight on Canada, and on Moose Jaw specifically?” It makes sense to me that they portray it this way, to strangers, rather then trotting out documentary proof for the whole country to see.

In Moose Jaw, we spent a delightful lunch hour with Lynnette Miller, who is completing a two-year Interim Ministry project there. She had some very helpful hints for Beatrix in her current situation. It was good to see her after such a long time. The last time I saw here was when Joe and Caley moved to Ochre River, nearly twenty years ago!

Friday last we arrived in Val Marie, Saskatchewan at last. This little town of 100 souls is one of my favourite places on the planet. Val Marie is the gateway to Canada’s newest National Park, the Grasslands Park. It sprawls along the Frenchman River close to the US border. There are hills and buttes and grass and trails, and nary a tree. But there is silence, and a constant wind. Grasslands contains the largest trove of pre-contact archaeological artifacts in Canada, along with 12000 Tipi rings, some dating back 5000 years. A herd of bison roams the hills; there is a huge prairie dog town… and rattlesnakes! If it sounds like an old western movie, it is…minus the cowboys. Only the ghosts of the Aboriginal people inhabit the land.

Val Marie boasts a superb art gallery – 24 southern Saskatchewan artists display their wares there! We always drop cash on the way out. The old brick schoolhouse is home to Prairie Winds and Silver Sage, a combination museum, art gallery, and bookstore and espresso bar! We drop in virtually every day for a latte and a look.

This morning we hiked seventy-mile butte, climbing to the highest point in the park. I was winded a few times, but thoroughly enjoyed the 5 kilometer grunt. Our first day here, we thought we should warm up for hiking, so we struck out across country to the Two Trees trail head. It turned out to be almost a three-hour return trip! We must have logged over 10 km without realizing it.

We have three more wonderful days here, including a four hour guided walk tomorrow, with a Park naturalist! This is a whole other kind of recovery and renewal. More another day.