Hey Folks,
   Hope you're all well.
   When last I was in touch I said I was about to ditch my ride. I did! It wasn't pretty but it had to be done.
   There were a number of issues. One was the car itself, three days in a Honda Civic was destroying my neck. Days later I'm still wrenched and can barely turn side to side. Now, if I'd been able to peddle whilst sitting there for hours on end, I'd probably have been okay, but short of tearing out the floor boards and putting in some pedals, that wasn't going to happen. Then there was the issue of my stuff. Yes, I'm travelling with a lot of stuff, but every item has its use and importance, right down to the bungies and pot lid holders. My companion didn't seem to get this. He lost the holder off one pot, and left a couple bungies I loaned him, to air his tarp, hanging in a tree in Val  Marie.  Then there was the little  thing we were supposed to be doing, putting my words to his music. The one real good chance we had to do that ended when he turned on the TV in the motel where we were staying. We had another opportunity but he broke a guitar string and announced he had no replacements. Then there was the moment I spotted a giant bull moose off the side of the road and he wouldn't stop the car to have a look, that about said it all.
    The next day, when I was in the middle of cutting some cheese, and he asked me for a tea bag, and I turned around to get the tea bag, only to turn back and find he'd peeled the cheese off my knife with his cigarette butt hands, then placed the cheese on the picnic table adjacent to the bird shit, so he could peel off a piece of cheese for himself, all the while claiming to "help" me, the end came.
     I snapped: "Buddy, we're done!" I pulled my stuff out of his car, assembled it on my bike, gave him back his share of the camp fees, and told him to leave. It was a good decision.
   We were in the Cypress Hills at the time, in the same camping place where I stayed a month earlier and had been visited by a Mama Moose and her calf. Guill had no sooner pulled out of the place when I found myself in something of a time warp. Suddenly it was like the entire ride through Grasslands, both ways, the windblown ride across Saskatchewan, the Winnipeg Folk Festival, the meet up with Guill, and the trip back had not occurred.
    There I was sitting in the Pine forest where I'd been a month earlier. It was peaceful, the pines were swaying and the sun was setting. Finally, I was back to myself and what I was doing, although it seemed a little bit like a dream. I turned on the radio, popped open my Mac, checked the date and time, and realized time had passed, and I'd not simply been sitting in the Cypress Hills daydreaming all this time.
   Setting camp and making myself a large pasta dinner, I settled down. I liked Guill and was sad it had come to a harsh end. Earlier we'd ridden out to the lookout, and for the first time in the trip I witnessed him get it. He'd stood on the lookout for a long time overlooking the prairie, and agreed with me when I said it had to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. At that point I'd still held out hope that he would finally embrace the prairie, slow down, and get into what we were doing. It was not to be.     
    We'd agreed earlier, before he even arrived, that we would take our time and really see the place. As we progressed it became clear he wasn't into it. Everytime we turned a corner or came over a ridge he would groan at the sight of more road ahead. What's more, he slept until late morning every day then rushed, demanding we hurry and go further, instead of just taking our time and enjoying the places we saw. In some ways it was like travelling with a two meter tall teenager who was constantly asking the question we all hate to hear: "Are we there yet?"
    Guill is a musical guy, a nice person overall, and I hope someday he settles down enough to do all the things he talks about. For now though, he's simply too distracted, too much in a hurry, and too scattered. I wish him well, but I really couldn't bare to be near him any longer.
   When dinner was done I hopped on Wheels and rode out to the Lookout to get a look at the sunset. I was late for the actual event, but found the red sky and twinkling lights of the scattering of towns in the distance quite enthralling, even moreso than it is in daylight. At dark I rode back to my camp, crawled in my tent, and had a restless sleep that ended when I woke up at six in the morning, totally unable to move my neck and barely able to crawl out of my tent. Any thought I'd had of staying an extra day was quashed by the knowledge that what I needed was a hot tub and an ice pack. I would have to get somewhere and treat the neck. In the meantime, I would have to make breakfast and see what I could do about loosening myself up enough to ride. I grabbed my water pots and headed for the tap.
   Reaching the base of my little driveway, I went around the bushes at the bottom, and was about to head up the road towards the tap when I was stopped in my tracks. There, silent as the morning, not three meters in front of me, and looking me straight in the eye, was Mama Moose, and her red calf, who'd grown a good half meter since I'd last seen it. The three of us just stood there for about three minutes, looking one another up and down, like old friends who can't quite believe they've happened into one another again. The calf was no longer skittish as it had been during our earlier encounter. It was unfazed, and looked at me with curiosity and no fear. I was glad to see them, and took it as a sign I'd done something right. Its not every day I get to be face to face with a moose and its calf.
   After a couple minutes the moose resumed their breakfast, some leaves and undergrowth, and I proceeded to the tap where I drained a couple pots of water and headed back to my campsite. As I cooked breakfast I watched out of the corner of my eye as the moose did their thing. When two kids in a nearby campsite came out of their tent squealing at their mom to make breakfast, the moose disappeared. I would not see them again.
   Once breakfast was made and my coffee in the cup, I laid down on a tarp and tried to stretch out my back muscles and relieve some of the pressure on my neck. It worked a little. I was able to gain some mobility, but the pain was something else. I knew I would not be able to go far that day, and seriously considered staying another night, but knew it would mean no heat for the neck, and no ice pack either. By time my porridge was cooked, I'd packed my tent, loaded the BoB and bike, and was ready to roll. Gingerly raising the bike to my side I set out.
      It went well, and I made the downhill run to Maple Creek in just over two hours. Unfortunately my neck was no better, even though the peddling felt good. Pulling into town about noon, I checked into the Maple Grove Motel.
      When I pulled in I told the teenager minding the place I needed a hot bath. He checked me into the only room they have that doesn't have a bath tub. I went back, and reiterated I needed a bathtub. For an extra six dollars, he gave me a room with a tub. Talk about taking advantage of a guy in pain!
      By one o'clock in the afternoon it was all sorted out and I was laying in a hot bathtub, gingerly trying to stretch out my neck. An hour later I was sound asleep with an ice pack on my neck. Three hours after that I was back in the tub. This went on all evening, in between cooking dinner and doing yoga stretches whenever I had a few moments. At the end of the night I took a high pressure shower. In the morning I repeated it. By time I pulled away at 9 am, I had a lot more mobility and a lot less pain.
   Four hours after setting out, I pulled into Walsh, Alberta, a mere spot on the map, on some high prairie, just inside the Alberta border. I'd stayed there before, knew the campground was a bug hatchery, but also knew the showers had water pressure akin to a Turkish massage. I might get eaten, but I knew my neck would love the shower. I was charged a whopping $8 for the campsite, cheapest one I've seen in weeks, found the bugs not an issue, had a long afternoon nap, ate well, loved the shower, and got an early sleep.
   This morning I woke up at 6 am raring to go, although the neck issue was not resolved, at least the pain had ebbed and my mobility was better.
    At first the ride was delightful. There was little traffic and the light southwest wind did not present much of a problem. It wasn't until I got close to Medicine Hat that things got a little hairy. The wind came up strong from the west and the traffic thickened, mostly RVers heading home from the weekend. By time I made the freeway turnpikes and dirty noisy stretch of  highway through the Hat, things got kinda scary. Temperatures had climbed into the high 30s, the traffic was thick, and the side of the road littered with debris. For a moment I considered stopping, but then I nixed the idea and pushed on.
   About one o'clock this afternoon I climbed the long hill west of the Hat, rounded some bends, and pulled into the town of Redcliff, which proclaims itself the "Greenhouse Capitalâ€� of the prairies. Finding the campground, which is basically a gravel patch located next to a rec centre and some ball diamonds, I checked in, set camp, and had another nap.
   As I write I'm plowing through a large bowl of quinoa, black beans and vegies, whilst sipping licorice tea. The wind blows from the southwest, rather forcefully, and large groups of locals are engaged in baseball games at the adjacent diamonds. I'm listening to the CBC (tornado warnings), hiding under a tree, and doing my best to keep my neck relaxed and limber.
   So, at the end of it all, I guess I traded one pain in the neck for another. All I can hope is that a few days of riding will loosen up the neck or at least make me forget about it. Mostly, I'm just feeling good to be back on the bike doing what I do best, following my nose and not answering to anyone for my decision to go left, right or straight ahead.
   The plan is to ride some back roads from here. I'll go along the 524 to Vauxall, then up to Enchant and Vulcan, before heading into the big city of Calgary, where I plan to visit friends for a few days before heading north. I'm due in Edmonton by August 7, where I'll be working the Edmonton Folk Festival, doing perimeter security. By the way, if anyone knows anyone in Edmonton who wouldn't mind having a wandering fool camped in their backyard for a few days, let me know. I'm having issues finding accomodation there. They don't have a campground anywhere near the festival. Also, if you're out driving the backroads between Medicine Hat and Calgary, watch out for me, stop, say hello. Its lonely out here.
   Anyway, hope you're all well.
   I'll write you all again soon.
Will

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