On April 1, 2005 I set off across Canada on my bicycle. Or
at least I'd planned to cross Canada. These pages are an account of
that trip, as told through
travelogs I sent to friends. I hope you enjoy the ride!
Roaming Alberta
Hi Kids,
Well I'm in Medicine Hat, one day out of
Saskatchewan. It's been a haul. Been going for eight days straight,
through wind and hail and rain and, finally this morning, sunshine.
I've come into Alberta on the tail of wide spread
flooding, and have
managed to avoid any mishap with it until this very morning when, while
trying to traverse a local cycle trail, I found myself sinking up to my
axles in mud along the Saskatchewan River. Almost lost me folks, took
nearly a half hour to drag myself, Blu and BoB, out of that quagmire,
which had come up on me suddenly. I was cruising along when all of a
sudden there I was, like the bad guy in an old western, sinking into
the quick sand.
Alas, I've survived.
It was difficult leaving the mountains. That
first day, June 22, I made
it all the way over the Crowsnest Pass, despite loopy winds that at one
point sent me into a guardrail. I wound up in the funky berg of
Blairmore, set deep in a low valley between the Rockies and the
foothills. Paid $15 for camping there, which was a discount because the
gruff Swiss woman who ran the place wanted to make sure I had change
left to use her showers. Which I did. Slept that night as a howler of a
storm blasted the area, but left us, in the bug infested landfill along
the river, rain free.
The second day was perhaps the best. I had a tail
wind all the way to
the cut off to Pincher Creek. I made the 60 K run in about six hours,
with lots of time stopping and looking back over my shoulder at what I
was leaving behind, those gorgeous mountains.
Stayed at the Veterans Memorial Campground in
Pincher Creek. Not a bad
place really, although a little unkempt. The price was right, five
bucks. Also made a little time with a trio of English girls, and their
male chaperone, who quizzed me about wild places to camp in BC. I sent
them to Wapiti.
The next day it was back to head winds, and
head-cross winds, as I
travelled south out of Pincher Creek to Highway 505, which runs
east, parralell to Highway 3, but with much less traffic. That day,
despite a good 30K resistance in the wind, I rode a good 80 K, making
it all the way to the St. Mary's Resevoir, a little south of
Lethbridge.
What an awful place that was. Physically it was
quite beautiful, set in
a deep coulee below the the St. Mary's Dam. But it was bug infested and
unkempt, and pot marked by gopher dens. The washrooms were layered in
gopher poo, there was no drinking water, and the province of Alberta,
who were doing nothing to keep the place together, made sure their
uptight little Mormon-missionary-come-Conservation-Officer came around
to collect the nine dollar camping fee. I was tempted to hang around
and organize the campers into a "hell no we won't pay until you clean
the toilets" revolution but all of them were leaving, and so was I.
It rained hard that night but cleared in the
morning, and I set off on
one of my easier days, to the hamlet of Raymond. There I found a town
not unlike you might find on the north shore in Quebec, one long main
road, whose main landmark was a church, two churches actually, one
Mormon and the other Mennonite. There I stayed free in the local
campground, on another landfill next to a man-made lake. Again it
rained. Again it cleared in the morning and I was off.
From Raymond I
continued east, with a
tail cross wind, along Highway 61. It
was a good ride, very little traffic on a rolling up and down road. It
was also a hard day, because it was the first one where I'd finally
lost sight of my beloved mountains.
Still, I was enjoying the
change in scenery, the long sweep of green rolling dunes all around me,
and the abundant bird life. At one point along the way the land grew so
quiet I just had to stop and listen. For a good half hour I stood
there, with a light wind blowing, watching as miles and miles and miles
of canoli and wheat fluttered. It was like entering some high
meditative state. Unfortunately the quiet ended when I rolled a little
north to Chin Coulee, just south of Taber. There I found a campground
that cost me $15 and was overrun by screaming teens, big rigs, hot
cars, motor boats with Apocolypse Now style speakers, blaring death
metal and ghetto rap out on the lovely blue water beneath the curving
brown hills. Didn't sleep so well that night. It was not a comfortable
place.
The next morning, in a light rain, I rode the
short 20 K into Taber,
Canada's own Columbine, and I can see why. The kids there are all just
spoiled rotten and the parents seem oblivious.
Regardless, I found Taber to be a nice place,
with a little bit of
character to the town, and a great campsite on the Oldman River,
wherein I witnessed firsthand some of the destruction caused by the
floods. The river actually buried the main part of the camp, which
features a several acre "walk in" area right next to the water, under
seven feet of river mud. When I arrived crews were scurrying around
mopping up the mess and the campers had all been moved to higher
ground. The guy who ran the place, a 50-something fellow who looked
like an Albertan but sounded like a west coast pinko, told me to set up
in one of their group camping pavillions, which was a good thing,
because no sooner did I pull Blu BoB and myself under the thing, when
the sky opened up in a torent that lasted a good 12 hours. So there I
was, safe and dry for ten bucks, with a big roof over my head and an
eight foot table to set my bed on. I did get some sleep that night.
The next day I did a little shopping around Taber
then set out again,
back on Highway 3, the one I've been following since Creston. That day,
with a side wind, I made the berg of Bow Island. Not much I can say
about Bow Island, except their campground is crud but does have a
pavillion, which I camped out under while the sky, with a nasty west
wind behind it, once again opened up. I paid ten bucks for my camping
but could have gotten away with not paying, because I self-registered
but no one showed up to check. Once again I slept on a picnic table,
under a big roof, while the wind blew and the rain churned.
In the morning, yesterday, it cleared a little
and I pushed on through
a massive cross-head wind the 60 K into Medicine Hat, where I am now. I
had planned to stay here a day. My legs and head really needing a day
off, but the camping is expensive, $20, and the grounds are not so
nice. So, in advance of tomorrow's big event, Canada's birthday, I am
once again pushing on. I'll likely make Walsh, a little berg on the
Saskatchewan border, or maybe Irvine, or the first nice campgound I can
find.
Last night there was a lovely cresent moon
hanging in
the eastern sky
when I went to bed, which was not so easy to do since it was the first
clear star-filled night in many days.
Got to be honest kids. I'm struggling with this a
bit. Yesterday, when
I pulled into town, I was almost delerious. I've barely spoken to
another person, outside of camp attendants, in over a week. I need a
days rest. My thighs feel bigger than beach balls. I also need some
time to adjust. I'm not at all accustomed to this geography, which is
not flat as it seems in a car, but is far more desolate than any
mountain side.
However, despite my delusions, and the fact that,
in my tiredness, I have
several times considered packing it in, I am pushing on. I'm looking
forward to Saskatchewan, a place I've always liked but never really
explored. So here I go. I'll see how I feel about it, then decide where
this trip will lead.
It's sunny. I'm muddy but I'm okay.
Hope you are too.
Will
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