Trying to Grok the Prairies

My journey into the prairies started by having a conversation with an old cowboy over breakfast at the Tamarack Motor Inn, in Rocky Mountain House. We were seated in separate booths with terribly high backs, initially. All I could see was the top of his straw cowboy hat nodding and twisting as he spoke with the server. When I mentioned to the same server that I had driven through snow on the David Thompson Highway out of the mountains, the cowboy tucked into the conversation, so I moved myself and my house-special breakfast to his booth. We talked about horses, cattle, rodeo’s, and general human well-being. I liked him, though I did not agree with his perspective on a few things, but, I was not there to set him straight. I was there to listen and understand his character. He was a gift.

Later on, at the laundromat, I met the best couple. I was deep into the dryer cycle, and had gone outside to drape my wet tent over my van so it would dry. This tall fella, Sam Elliot’s doppelganger, walks out and hollers, “Where ya from?”  Well, he, and his gorgeous wife and I, talked until everything was dried and sorted.  They described, with great affection, their retired life in a house in the mountains, near a stream. I liked them tons. We all agreed on how much we don’t like crowds, and how much we adore the mountains. 

Sigh.

After I left them, I was still in mourning, so when I pulled into Drumheller and saw this: 

I had a difficult time adjusting.  Can you blame me? 

Then, there was this, 

a Hoodoo, which I felt was closer to something on Mars.

When I left Drumheller, I started to sort of settle into this part of the world; sort of.

I pulled into a cemetery out in the middle of nowhere. 

It was set back behind a thicket, and surrounded by grazing land. I half-expected to see Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, and John Wayne standing, toasting some unfortunate they'd just buried. There was nobody there though. Just the wind, a dozen or so grave stones; some quite old, and a large herd of black angus cows and calves watching from over the barbed wire fence.

They didn't much care for me, or the horse I rode in on, and began running around like great, meaty fools; mothers hollering for their young as if I was the one that the cow legends said would come. I left quickly, because spooking a farmer's herd of expensive cattle can make them a little mad, and I didn't want to come back to Ontario with a bullet hole in my hat. 

I drove to this:

Dinosaur Provincial Park, a Unesco World Heritage Site. What a kick! I was not expecting to see geography, or Hoodoo geology like this, anywhere in Canada.

The campsite itself, was clean and quiet, tucked down as it was, in the valley along the Red Deer River. Oh, sure, there were signs warning of snakes. There has to be something, doesn't there?

Snakes.

Great.

I tended conflicted feelings about this. Part of me was childishly keen to see a coiled rattler while here, but the other part was just as childishly sticking to the middle of each trail, glad to be sporting solid hiking boots.

I saw no serpents, dangerous or not, during any of the several hours that I hiked. I didn't sing though, as I did to ward off bears further west. Here, I figured a snake might hear me and assume that I was injured; easy prey.

People were relaxed and friendly in the park. I met a young couple from Sweden, I got to use my french with several other campers, and while having my keenness for the mountains validated by an older skier/mountain biker, I spied a coyote wandering through the park like it weren’t no thang. The skier told me that it’s common to hear them in this park and he was right; they were in full song that night. I heard them again in the morning, but then heard a cow bawling and wondered if the little bastards hadn’t caught themselves a new calf. 

 The birds were up and insane at 4:30 in the morning. Fucking birds. So, I got up and went for an early hike, loaded the van, and departed. The early start meant I was a bit tired later on, and frustrated at the lack of mountains on these prairies.

Why did B.C. have to be so damn far away?

I was grumpy, again, but began to notice these velvety glacial features though southern Saskatchewan. I came over a hill and for no specific reason, pulled off onto a field access. I got out,  just in time to see this:

I was amazed at my timing. I stood and watched the train, and felt that warm, relentless prairie wind. This was nice. This was another gift.

I made my way to Moose Jaw where, in the morning, I saw this:

You figure it out. 

I drove, and saw cattle everywhere, and these:

Fitting that they resemble the T-Rex, right? I mean, that damn beast got us into this mess in the first place. Always good to be reminded of who to blame. Why couldn't the dinosaurs have decayed into layered terrines, or a nice merlot? We would have evolved into a culinary society where fast food was the worst offence! No, it had to be oil. 

Jerks.

Notice how dark this shot of the oil well is? The reason is that there had been a bank of very dark clouds over my shoulder for most of the day. I wasn't concerned. "Just a little rain," I figured. 

I normally don't listen to the radio because the news makes me nuts, so I wasn't aware of what was brewing. Without having an inkling though, 

I had changed my destination from Estevan, Saskatchewan, which was more south, to Brandon, Manitoba, which was further north and east. Shortly after this decision, I happened to turn on the radio and heard that gut-churning sound of a tornado warning for the area, specifically Estevan. Late in the afternoon, things got real.

Close your eyes and imagine a big old, dangerous sky here, because my photos don't do it justice. Imagine, until you are slightly unnerved. There. THAT'S what the sky looked like!

I could not believe my luck in my whimsical route change. Still severe weather throughout, but I drove like hell (I love my van), and was very glad to arrive in Brandon shortly after the sky launched its' cloud-bile with an impressive rumble-and light show. 

Normally, I don't mind bad weather, but when I'm not familiar with the landscape, have no co-pilot, and continually get north confused with wherever I feel that it damn-well SHOULD be, it can be a drag. Or exhausting. Or both, but I did figure out how to calm down so I could be efficient. No point in being a complete idiot and ending up in the ditch.

The day ended well. So far, on this trip; bears in the Kananaskis, snakes in the Hoodoo's, and then a tornado to avoid. I will update my resumé when I get home.

–if I DO go home.