Travelog 7
Hey Kids,
I have a confession to make.
I'm a low down dirty rotten cheater!
Here's why. I took a ride!
When I woke up in Maple
Creek my knee hurt like hell and I did not relish riding anywhere, not
north south east or west, not up or down a hill, not anywhere!
Sitting out in front of the Maple Grove Motel, I
kept
looking at the truck parked at the unit next to mine, and thinking, I
wonder if the owner of that truck would run me up to the Cypress Hills.
I'd no sooner thought the thought when the fellow
came out his door to walk his dog. He asked if I was pushing on or
taking another day R&R. I told him I wasn't sure, but that I kept
looking at his truck and wondering, if I slipped him ten bucks, if he'd
drive me up to the park, a distance of 30 K.
He said: "I'd do that in a drop of a hat!"
So I packed up and off we went. He didn't accept my
money and seemed to be happy just to have something to do, and to, in
some small way, be a part of my adventure.
So, an hour later, there I was all set up in a pine
forest, in beautiful sunshine, with all the comforts a wandering
cyclist could want.
If anyone ever tells you there are no trees or hills
in Saskatchewan, tell them they have never been to the Cypress Hills,
and should bloody well go there before spouting.
Its a wonderful place, high above the prairie in a
forest full of lodgepole pine and trembling Aspen, home to a myriad of
wild beasts, including a mama Moose and her calf, who befriended me and
and hung out at my campsite for much of the three days. Mama Moose was
an astonishing creature, standing nearly three meters high and placid
as a mouse. At first she came and stood for a long time watching me,
which was a little weird. Then she disappeared, only to return a few
hours later with her little chestnut-red calf, who was about the size
of a large dog, but much skinnier.
It was funny, but every time other people came to
the campground she would disappear, only to reappear shortly after they
departed. It was like she wasn't showing herself to anyone else but me.
Magnificent beast, and she knew who to trust.
For my part, I spent my days wandering the park,
riding out to the bluffs overlooking the prairie, where you can easily
see 100 K from points like Lookout Point and Bald Butte. These are very
special places and one can easily imagine the days of the Buffalo,
Sitting Bull, and even the ice ages that proceeded them. I was
enraptured by the view and sheer beauty of the place. No words can
describe it. You must go there for yourself if you really want to know
what its like.
Of course the campground has its share of Alberta
beefeaters in big hemis, who seem to have something against cyclists
and hair, but for the mostpart the park is pure beauty, and a delight
to visit.
Yesterday, Saturday, I packed up and, against my
better judgement, pulled out. If I'd known what I was in for I would
have stayed put, but then again, that's what this adventure is all
about, not knowing what happens next.
It took me over four hours to do the 35 K down to
Highway 13. I struggled against gusting 40 K headwinds and really put
myself, and my well recovered knee, to the test. The ride, over rolling
green treeless hills, up and down coulees, would have been a pure
pleasure, but on this day it was a strain, but lovely nonetheless, and
the road was basically empty, so it was at least non stressful,
although a serious grind.
When I reached Highway 13 a horrific thunderstorm
came up from the south west. It was black and ugly in the direction of
Consul, so I decided to head east, despite the unfavourable wind, which
was blowing hard out of the north east. About six k along, just
outside Robsart, the worst of the storm hit. I pulled into the town,
which was bascially a ghost town. There were buildings enough to house
several hundred but, as I was informed by a local, only about 10 folks
live there. Robsart was a thriving little town, with hundreds of
people, a community centre, Beaver Lumber store, grocery, department
store, pool hall, gas station, body shop, school, and the like, but one
day all the folks left, and now it sits looking like an active place,
but totally dilapitated and run down once you get in close.
I waited out the storm beneath the eaves of the
local community hall. It blasted for an hour, lots of lightning and
rolling thunder. Once it cleared, I tried again to resume my ride to
Eastend, but it became clear after a few K that I would not make the 50
K without doing myself damage. The headwinds were gusting well over 50
K and I could hear more thunder.
After much deliberation and gnashing of teeth, I did
a U-turn and made a run for Consul, where I knew there was a camp. It
was, after riding in headers all day, a delight to have a tailwind, and
I made the 25 K back to Consul in just over an hour.
Unfortunately, just as I arrived in Consul, a
lawless little berg out in the middle of nowhere, another storm hit.
Also unfortunately, I found the camp to be a totally exposed
backyard-size patch of really dirty earth, full of hard drinking
trailerites. One
of them warned me there was a ball tourney going on in town and, if I
decided to camp, I'd be in for a rowdy night, because all the players
would be partying at the adjacent hotel. I decided instead to see if I
could get a room for cheap.
It took some arm twisting but I talked the local
motel proprietor, herself a ball player who's team had been eliminated,
into letting me have the last available room for much less than the
asking price. I'd no sooner hauled myself and the my gear inside, when
the weather hit again. So I hunkered down, watched some tube, caught up
on some mail, and had an early bed.
This morning I'm up with the birds, lightening
skies, and a lot of rain. It appears things are going to improve but
I'm still waiting on the forcasted wind change. Right now the wind is
coming from the direction I need to go, but its supposed to do an about
face by midday. I hope so!
So, although I am a dirty rotten cheater, and feel
awful about it, I am glad I did what I did. My knee is much better. I
got to see a part of the country that has recently been declared one of
Canada seven great wonders. I've stood on hills where Sitting Bull once
stood. I've got to know Saskatchewan's trees and hills up close and
personal, had a few days off, and been freindly with a moose. So its
all
good.
Anyway, short travelog this time. I'm off, or so I
hope, in a few hours for Eastend and the home of T-Rex.
Until next time, hope you're all well.
Will
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