Another journey into the unknown
BY MARCUS DAY
Guest Columnist
After we had crossed the Trans-Canada Highway at the tricky intersection and begun driving north I was in uncharted territory.
Beyond an instinct to explore, there had never been cause to head this way. I had turned left to Medicine Hat before, right to Tompkins, but not straight ahead.
Now I was over the great highway divide, I felt a surge of exhilaration. It was good to be on the road again, goin' places that I've never been, seein' things that I may never see again.
Ahead lay places that hitherto were just evocative names: Golden Prairie, Fox Valley, Leader, Eatonia … and the final destination, Kindersley, more than two hours away.
How strange that I should be expanding my geographical horizons in an age of limited travel. Perhaps it was a consequence of months of "stay at home" messages – a craving to bust through restrictions and inhale the wide, magical expanses of Saskatchewan – that I jumped at this chance to be a front-seat passenger on a road trip.
My driver was Kate Winquist, managing editor of the Maple Creek News-Times at the time of writing, sole proprietor of Kindersley-based Your West Central Voice at the time of publication.
For Kate, this was a working trip as she prepared for her big move. It also turned into a pilgrimage into her past: she spent her formative years in and around Kindersley, enjoying the freedom of farming life, riding go-karts, wandering among honeysuckle bushes, hitting a tennis ball against the wall of a giant barn, and learning to skate in nearby Glidden.
Our agreed departure time was 9am, a civilized hour for normal folk. Not for me.
"Just go without me, if I don't show," I repeatedly said. "I don't want you waiting around and getting annoyed."
The next morning I pulled up outside the news office, bleary-eyed and light-headed through lack of sleep. I was shocked by my punctuality, yet unsure whether I fully approved of being in sync with the rest of the world. Wouldn't I be better off dreaming of a road trip?
An hour later I sat semi-comatose in my office, waiting for Kate to finish the morning newspaper labelling chore.
"What time do you call this?" I blurted out, wondering whether "9am" had been a ruse to get me out of bed.
"Be ready in ten minutes."
And so she was. Hallelujah.
Soon we were on our way, zipping along Highway 21 after filling up with gas at the Co-Op, my grouchiness forgotten, all sense of being in a hurry gone. Yes, being on the road again is a glorious feeling.
North has always been my least favourite compass point, yet today I didn't mind. With the sun blazing down from a blue sky that seemed freshly laundered, it was hard not to feel hope about everything, even in an era of doom and gloom.
I felt in harmony with the rhythm of life. Surely on days like these the most ardent atheist will begin to ask whether something bigger, beyond human comprehension, is at work.
The road was straight, pitted enough in parts to make me wonder what it would be like in winter. We passed well-tended cemeteries, farms, a Hutterite colony, flour mills, grain elevators, barns, ramshackle huts, cattle grazing morosely in fields, and the odd deer – sights that are embedded in the Saskatchewan landscape. The vast skyscape encircled us like an intimation of infinity.
Golden Prairie lay hidden from view, but I glimpsed Fox Valley on my left, a collection of rural buildings. I immediately wondered how plans for a new community hall in the village were progressing. Who was the Mayor? Sean Checkley, wasn't it? He would know.
Kate interrupted my thoughts by pointing into the distance where the Great Sand Hills slept, some 25 kilometres northwest of Fox Valley. Another tourist attraction I would have to add to my growing "must-see" list this summer. Were they literally hills made of sand? An image of the Sahara flashed before me with the intensity of a magazine illustration, before quickly fading.
More signs came and went: Liebenthal, Burstall, Mendham, Prelate, Schuler, and Sceptre. At Leader we stopped, agonizing briefly over where to have lunch: Subway or the Big 10-4 Drive Inn. Subway got my vote because Veggie Delights have become part of my coronavirus diet, designed to boost the immune system.
Leader instantly appealed to me, both its feel, atmosphere and size (about 1,000 people). I could picture myself living there, maybe in a little, easy-to-maintain bungalow fronted by a garden full of vibrant flowers that are the envy of the neighbourhood. I scoured the streets in vain for a promising "for sale" sign until my attention was diverted by the wacky wildlife monuments that Kate had mentioned in our approach to Leader: mule deer, kangaroo rat, prairie rattlesnake, Burrowing Owls, redheaded woodpecker, Ferruginous Hawk, sturgeon etcetera.
I exited the car to grab a few photographs of these creations by Saskatchewan artists. Unfortunately, a nearby tourist information centre in an old cherry red CNR Caboose was closed, presumably because of COVID-19.
Shortly after leaving Leader, the road dipped and rose as we neared the mighty South Saskatchewan River. An electronic sign flashed a warning that the Chesterfield Bridge would be undergoing construction work in July.
"Over there are the river hills," said Kate, nodding to a distant skyline shaped by pale-green, slow undulations.
How I love the verdant hues of the prairies, the interwoven shades and textures, and the long sloping shadows, particularly pronounced towards the end of a day.
"Saskatchewan isn't as flat as everyone makes out," I said, thinking of my recent visit to Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park.
"Wait a bit. It will get pretty flat once we approach Kindersley."
Before reaching our destination, we stopped at Kate's childhood home now owned by the Kopecks. The most dominant feature is a barn, built in 1943. Kate had told me how her Dad's smoking habit had burned down a barn – a huge story in the vicinity, I imagine – so I was pleasantly surprised to see this giant edifice with its green roof. It stood before us like an act of defiance.
"We used to play badminton in the upper floor," said Kate. (It was one of several references to her youthful sporting prowess; baseball, I discovered, was the sport she excelled at the most. She also earned a crest for track and field.)
The family house is still there, easily recognizable and seemingly in good condition, although unoccupied at present. The Kopecks have their own living quarters a stone's throw away.
And so on to Kindersley … a town twice the size of Maple Creek. I immediately sensed Kindersley's comparative stature, even though the population is only 5,000. Big brands advertised themselves everywhere: Walmart, McDonald's, Tim Hortons, Pharmasave. Industrial units abounded and Main Street had traffic lights, something that slightly unnerved me.
I was glad Kate was at the wheel. After 18 months of driving around Maple Creek, I've got used to uncluttered streets where the biggest challenge is who gives way to whom at a four-way stop sign.
Kate's new workplace is a neat downstairs office in the HD Professional Building off Main Street. It looks out on to the street, which will give her a sense of space. Across the road is the Red Lion Inn, well-known for its Chinese food. Just to write about it makes me hungry.
Several times during a tour of the town, Kate was approached by friendly, familiar faces; a reminder that this is her home turf and the Drummond family name still counts for something. There seems to be a wellspring of goodwill for her newspaper enterprise.
Shortly before 5pm, with the sun waning slightly and the first shadows lengthening, we began the return journey. It was marked by two landmark occurrences. Firstly we took a 12-kilometre detour to see a former News-Times colleague at Golden Prairie – yes, I finally got to see this village with its alluring name – and secondly, soon afterwards, wait for it … I saw a moose. Actually, two moose.
"Look, look over there, on the right," said Kate.
I looked – and saw two animals scampering in a field, probably spooked by our slowly crawling car. They could have been supernatural creatures from a fairytale; much smaller than I would have imagined. Were they really moose?
"They must be baby moose," said Kate, as if reading my mind.
The sighting completed my day.
As Maple Creek appeared beneath the evening sun, its elevator the most prominent landmark for miles around, my insides began to glow.
Yes, I love to be on the road again … but it's also heartwarming to come home, even to an adopted one.