Saskatchewan

Consort to Kerrobert, SK. DAY: 134.22km. ODO: 1,866km. AVS: 24.5km/h. MXS: 65.0km/h. ATM: 5:28.

Dark clouds were hovering, the sun poking through only occasionally, and the weather report showed rain everywhere between Prince Rupert and Winnipeg. I packed, and dressed, expecting rain, and left Consort at 9:30 with the tailwind still my companion. However, it was regularly shifting to a cross-wind, so I didn’t make as much speed as yesterday. Cross-winds are also hard on the arms and shoulders, as there’s a lot more work to keeping the bike going straight (especially when large trucks are passing). After I have my foot looked at I may also see about getting a massage in Saskatoon. I’m getting some nasty knots in my shoulders.

Highway 12 has a great, wide shoulder (right from Stettler) and very little traffic all the way to the Saskatchewan border, on the Alberta edge of which sits a very small town called “Compeer”, where I stopped for lunch.

I ate at the only place in town, the “Compeer Saloon”. I asked the barmaid if she had any juice, and she took me into the walk-in cooler behind the bar to look for some. The saloon is very peculiar (at least from a west-coast urban perspective), with metal doors, small barred windows, and a sign advising zero-tolerance toward barfights. There is a grill on one wall, where patrons can grill their own steaks. It was on this grill that my chicken burger was prepared, or rather, heated. It was a tiny, deep-fried looking disc that was placed on a tiny white bun with a tiny piece of iceberg lettuce. It came with zucchini sticks. As I was leaving the saloon, a woman got into an old Chrysler K-Car that was parked next to my bike, started it, drove over to the feed store, and got out. Total drive: 35 feet.

Entering Saskatchewan using this route is pretty low key. If it weren’t for the “Welcome to Alberta” sign for westbound travellers, one might not know one had crossed a boundary. The closest thing to a ‘Welcome’ sign was this advertisement for the local crime watch program (note the bullet holes):

There was also a significant decline in the quality of the highway. The shoulder disappeared entirely, there were plenty of potholes, sink-holes and missing patches of asphalt, and the surface was very bumpy and warped, all of which, along with the now predominant cross-wind, conspired to slow me down. The good news was that the minimal traffic seen on the Alberta side dwindled down to almost nothing. I don’t think I saw more than twenty vehicles the next 65km.

I saw a large number of skittish Shovelers along the way. I am still flushing them regularly (I think my bright yellow jacket isn’t helping – I also startled two horses today.) I also saw another American Avocet. A number of shorebirds and several potentially interesting ducks were bypassed for reasons of practicality (wind, mainly). There are many Western Meadowlarks as well.

After passing by the towns “Major” and “Superb”, neither of which appeared to be aptly named, I arrived in Kerrobert at about 4pm. The first thing I did was seek out the tourism information office, as I had no copy of a Saskatchewan accommodation guide, and had no idea where to stop for the day. I had hoped to make it another 37km to a town named Kelfield, but I didn’t know if that was an appropriate place to stop. I was advised by the town hall that the only place that had such information was a store on the corner near the curling rink that sells curios, but it is doesn’t open until Thursday.

After having tea at the town bakery, contemplating my next move (keep going, or spend the night here), I decided to stay. The only place to camp was the town RV park, which was right next to the gas station, and empty except for three picnic tables and a dumpster, and a local youth was roaring back and forth behind it on an ATV.

I selected the “Wild Goose Motel” as my bed for the night. It’s one of those standard small-town hovels, staffed by a woman who gets out of breath swiping a credit card and whose vocabulary seems limited to grunts. My room has green shag carpeting that is highlighted by fluorescent lighting that was surely intended for use in a tanning salon.

There appear to be three restaurants in town: “Jimmy’s”, “Ma’am’s”, and an unnamed place in the other hotel (that I rejected due to its ugly aluminum siding), connected to a busy cold beer off-sale counter. Jimmy’s slogan is “A meal without wine is like a day without sunshine”. Anita Bryant flashbacks aren’t an appetite stimulant for me. I chose Ma’am’s. It met my expectations perfectly.

Flexibility is key

Stettler to Consort. DAY: 159.24km. ODO: 1,732km. AVS: 32.7km/h. MXS: 57.5km/h. ATM: 4:52.

I was up at 7:30. I made a point of getting up early to see if the wind was less powerful early on, but clearly, this isn’t necessarily the case. The speed of the north-westerly wind seemed to have doubled overnight, and the temperature seemed to have dropped substantially.

After a cup of tea and a muffin at Tim Horton’s (why will they not let you put your own damn cream and sugar in the cup? This isn’t Toronto, we don’t need any of that “double-double” crap in the west), I set out on highway 56, destined for Canmore. After one mile, during which I was blown right off the highway twice by cross-gusts, I realised that this was no longer fun, which contravenes one of my fundamental rules for this adventure. And what is the best way to make it fun? Go where the wind is going.

I returned to Stettler and took highway 12, which just happens to travel south-east, which put the wind directly behind me. I had no idea where Highway 12 would take me, and I didn’t care. The wind was at my back! So much for Edmonton. I guess I’ll have to rest my Achilles in Saskatoon in a few days.

Check out my Average Speed for the day (32.7km). As long as I kept moving, everything was fine. It was warm and it seemed like there was no wind at all, except for the speed I was travelling. As son as I stopped, though, it was freezing and I could barely get the bike (or myself) to stand up.

I don’t know who named the towns along Highway 12, but I detect a certain theme. “Fleet”. “Coronation”. “Throne”. “Veteran”. “Consort”. I stopped in “Castor” for lunch, though I’m unclear on how that one fits the perceived theme. Another of those 19 year old waitresses who barely speak. They had a sign on the wall that said “If you’re grouchy or just plain mean, a $10 surcharge with apply for having to put up with you”. I resisted the urge to ask for a $10 credit.
A few isolated drops of rain had fallen along the way, but nothing to slow me down, until shortly past Veteran, when the deluge started. It poured all the way to Consort. With the wind, and darkness resulting from the thick black clouds, it got rather cold as well. By the time I reached Consort, I was ready for rest.

As it turns out, there is only one campground near consort, about 14km north of the town. That’s 14km into the gale. I was already starting to shiver, and the prospect of finding a non-flooded ditch to camp, and cook, in was becoming intimidating, so I hauled ashore at the first B&B I found, the “Cozy Haven”. You’d think that coasting across central Alberta with the wind at your back would be relaxing, but I was pretty tired when I got there. I’m not so good at taking it easy, so I was pedaling at my normal rate (think ‘gerbil on wheel’) the whole way. I probably did as much work as if there had been no wind at all.

Sign on wall of the laundromat in Consort: “Please do not put liquor in the garbage”.

Where to next? Highway 12 turns into Highway 51 at the Saskatchewan border (about 62km away), but I’m not sure how many services there are along the way. I will have to check with the local travel info office in the morning. Consort does not have high-speed internet yet (big trucks and beer are still sufficient entertainment for many Albertans, according to my hostess, Debora who, by the way, slept with a guy that went to the same school as I in Winnipeg in 1977).

Wind. Ugh!

Drumheller to Stettler. DAY: 108.18km. ODO: 1,573km. AVS: 18.4km/h. MXS: 43.0km/h. ATM: 5:52.

Again, awake at the crack of dawn, but sluggish. I didn’t hit the road until noon. A big climb out of the Red Deer River valley started the day, but it was sunny, as usual.

In case you’re wondering, the Achilles tendon is still an issue, but it doesn’t seem to be a monumental one (yet). Riding from Calgary to Drumheller, I found that it started hurting after about 25km. However, regular stops to stretch it a bit, and walk around, seemed to ensure that it never got any worse. A couple of hours after I stop riding, it feels pretty good again. The same today. I am still planning to rest it up a bit when I get to Edmonton, maybe even consult a physiotherapist. It is rather annoying, and I would like to get rid of the pain altogether, if I an going to ride for three more months. I also don’t want to do any real damage.

As soon as I left the shelter of the Red Deer River valley, I was hit with a good, strong crosswind. This only lasted for about 20km, though, and then it became a good, strong northerly headwind, which lasted all the way to Stettler. The wind seemed to grow stronger the closer I got to Stettler, and the last 12km were quite a struggle. I did the work of 175km, but only covered 108km, and had an average speed for the day that was equivalent to riding up Kicking Horse Pass. I’m hoping for calmer weather from the north tomorrow. If not, I will probably make it a 75km day, and arrive in Edmonton on Tuesday.

I saw a lot of ducks on the way, but most were quite skittish and fled as soon as I came within view of whatever pond they were feeding on, which made identification difficult. However, I did manage to spot several Redheads and two Ruddy ducks. I also saw several Mountain Bluebirds, and a pair of Kildeer. Stettler isn’t high on my list of places to return to in future. It’s kind of smelly and quite suburban looking, the mosquitoes are vicious, and the civic campgrounds are reminiscent of a Johannesburg shanty-town full of ridiculously huge RVs. Several of my neighbours have satellite dishes on their rigs, and one is towing his own golf cart.

On the road again!

Calgary to Drumheller. DAY: 151.76km. ODO: 1,423km. AVS: 21.4km/h. MXS: 58.0km/h. ATM: 7:04.

Though I suspected that perhaps my Achilles could use a longer rest, it was feeling considerably better, if still somewhat tender, and I decided to depart. I had still been unsuccessful at connecting with my cousin Ann-Louise and her family, but I was getting restless and had had quite enough of Calgary (my apologies to my Calgarian readers, but I find little favour with your chosen home).

I abandoned all hope of finding a quiet route out of town and just headed out 16th, which is the Trans-Canada, eastbound, intending to head for the town of Beiseker to the northeast, which is en-route to Drumheller, home of a dinosaur museum that has been recommended to me by many that I have met along the way so far.

Near the town of Irricana, I spotted a couple of American Avocets, in mating plumage, feeding along the banks of a slough.

Upon arrival in Beiseker, I met a German couple (from Stuttgart) travelling by RV in the same direction as I, as well as a local Beisekerite by the name of John, who was quite chatty. I picked up some lunch and dinner materials at the grocery store before continuing on my way. By this time, the Achilles was bugging me quite a bit again, which started to get me a bit down, as it seemed a harbinger of the end of this adventure. I decided that I would undertake to arrive in Edmonton, where I could visit a doctor or physiotherapist (although I suspect that all they would tell me is to stay off of it for a while and “come back and see me if it worsens”, which seems to be the first phrase taught in medical schools. I also decided that I would try to ride lightly, and keep my distances short, so as not to overdo things.

By the end of the day, I arrived in Drumheller, 151km from Calgary, for a total of seven hours and four minutes of actual cycling time, much of which featured strong head- or cross-winds after Beiseker. So much for taking is easy. Once the body-brain gets into riding mode, it’s hard to stop, until the juice runs out.

Here’s the Red Deer River Valley:

Because it was close to town, and my juice had run out, I stayed at the River Grove RV Park. Yuck! Think of the Green Point Campground near Tofino. Barking dogs, crying babies, car alarms, and liquor-fueled debates on various aspects of professional sport. Welcome to the Hotel Proletariat (I know, I’m a snob…).

I would like to leave tomorrow for somewhere less vulgar, but since this is the first camping long weekend of the year, this might be as good as it gets.

I’m sure you’ve noticed in your own travels those roadside markers placed, presumably, by the loved ones of traffic victims. Usually a cross, frequently adorned with flowers or other knick-knacks, and sometimes with a photo of the deceased. Though it may seem to some to be in poor taste, I have decided to make it a side-hobby to document some of these along the way. Such as the lovely marker pictured below. However, let me point out that, should I meet my demise along the road, under absolutely no circumstances should a roadside marker of any variety be placed in my memory. And especially not one with a photo. If you wish to remember me, buy a bench at Beaver Lake in my name, or hold a wake. But no roadside markers!

STILL in Calgary

I’m actualy getting a little anxious to hit the road, as things are getting a bit dull here. Calgary doesn’t really have a neighbourhood in which I like to hang out (that I’ve found so far), and I’m tiring of the continuous presence of the crack demographic. Reality it may be, and I wouldn’t want to be the type to divert my gaze by hanging out only at The Gap, but it is beginning to depress me.
I still haven’t decided whether the Achilles problem will prevent me from carrying on for a bit longer. It has improved, so I’m hoping to leave tomorrow, but we’ll see.

Still in Cowtown. Or is it hogtown?

Calgary (sightseeing). DAY: 0.00km. ODO: 1,271km. AVS: 0.0km/h. MXS: 00.0km/h. ATM: 0:00.

Is Calgary Cowtown or Hogtown? And why is one of those monikers assigned to Toronto? Someone please enlighten me.

I’ve been wandering all day, but I’m not sure what I’ve done. Second Cup is now threatening to start charging me for WiFi use, and I’ve only used it for a total of 2.5 hours. I guess I’m not drinking enough tea or something. Apparently the information superhighway is a toll-route. Damn that Klein. Maybe I should buy him a beer.

Ah, the joys of hostelling! Last night I got about 4 hours sleep, thanks to the peculiar nocturnal emanations of my dorm-mates. One, a machine language programmer from Fort St. James, who is otherwise a fine individual, snored out his best imitation of a jet ski. And another chap, with whom I have not conversed, talked in his sleep in a manner that sounded like either a series of whispered prayers or a soft monotone commentary. Perhaps he was praying to St. Jude for the snorer to be recalled to heaven.

I managed a lengthy conversation in the hostel last night with a 23 year old (who just moved to Calgary from Sault Ste. Marie) on the topics of employment, material wealth and the pursuits of happiness, which was the first conversation I have had on this trip that didn’t cover the topics of the weather or the insanity of cycle touring.

Seeing Calgary

Calgary (sightseeing). DAY: 0.00km. ODO: 1,271km. AVS: 00.0km/h. MXS: 00.0km/h. ATM: 0:00.

Finding an internet connection in Calgary has proven to be challenging. WiFi cafes are scarce, and the one close internet cafe I found would not let me connect my laptop. However, I have since found a Second Cup that provides free WiFi, so all is good (except that I’m drinking a lot of tea).

As my Achilles is stll causing problems, I didn’t cycle at all today, choosing to walk and take the LRT instead. The hostel I am staying at is on the fringes of downtown, where all the junkies hang out. There is a needle repository box out front, and a shooting gallery in the alley behind. It’s not one of the more modern hostels I’ve been to. This afternoon they posted signs on some of the dormroom doors indicating that “preventative fumigation” would take place on Wednesday. My room is one of the few that is exempt, which leads me to suspect that as soon as the spraying starts, any bugs will make a beeline to my room where it’s safe.

I had dinner with my sister, Karna, tonight, at her favourite haunt – the Ranchman’s Club. I’m not exactly the ‘western’ sort, but it was interesting, and the people watching opportunities were great.

On the way home, I happened across a bike shop with a very large poster in the window that shows a guy riding a bike below the words “Quit Your Job”. Can’t argue with that!