edwards block

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.

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).