to Turtleford, SK

July 24th: I slept late this morning. Some campgrounds have metered showers so Be Prepared, as they say in Brownies and Guides. Also washed some clothes in there, and dried them at the picnic table because the clay from the trail hung in clumps off the pants, tank, tee and socks of my 'cycling costume'. So I'm wearing my only pair of shorts for the first time on this trip. I haven't worn them cycling because of the skin exposure to the sun. I usually forget to apply sun-block a second time later in the day.
Last few nights has left very little condensation on the tent. Must be getting warmer, especially now that I'm heading southward. Makes it easier and quicker for leaving in the am. While the clothes and tent are drying this morning, I start to write in my journal pages.

Just met Walter, a tree removal man. He came over and sat for a couple of hours. He's diabetic. Swears by co q 10. Says it builds heart muscle back up, which the older body doesn't do naturally, and since using that and 800 units of Vit. E daily, he has been able to cut his insulin back to 17%. He may avoid having an amputation, and it may extend his lifespan considerably. He convinced his sister to start taking it when she was tired and listless all the time, and now she has energy to burn. He left to go for lunch at the restaurant next door saying that he eats only at restaurants now because when he works he earns $500/day.
He came back later with a slingshot from the hardware store. He used to have one when he was a kid (like Sampson's which you swing around before letting go) made like the biblical ones only out of a bike's inner tube, and it shot pretty true. This one is a pull type. He's visiting his friend in the trailer next to my site and is from Lloydminster. I find him fascinating to listen to.
I told him that I was bitten 2 weeks ago on my first night in Smoky Lake by what I thought was probably a spider in the middle of the night in my tent. I didn't feel anything until I woke up, though. My bottom lip swelled up so fat that it was shiny as though I was using vaseline on it. It pained constantly, and still burns or just tingles so much that it's sometimes hard to get to sleep at night. During the day, I favour it but forget about it a lot. The swelling has gone down now but there are two white puncture marks there, just as though I have been bitten by a snake.
I was really surprised when Walter said that he thinks it may have been a Spruce Beetle that bit me. Later, I begin to wonder if maybe it has laid an egg in there, and a larvae is eating away at me until pupation, the way a Warble Fly will do.
Want to leave earlier, but my bike is now my clothes-line. As soon as the tent dried I put it in its bag to protect it from sun damage.

Larre Memorial Park, St. Walburg
Caroline Clock plays beautiful tunes every hour and one bar of music every quarter hour. I stop in this park to have yogurt before leaving at 2 pm - really really late - and now I'm off.

Headed for Turtleford from St. Walburg. Hot and sunny now. Will see how much further I can go. Need a library to update blog on a computer.


It's so friendly in Sask. and the countryside is extraordinarily beautiful this far north with rolling hills and the gold of canola fields in bloom. Going down those hills is a great break, and I coast them. But I have to cycle up first.

This part of the TransCan.Trail is called the Spruce Lake trail.
It still has the steel railroad ties lying on top with the rails intact...totally inaccessible...no possibility of actually cycling ON the trail but the highway goes along beside for miles and miles and is so much smoother anyway. It's another 90 km to North Battleford.

Near Spruce Lake, I happen upon a small lake and notice a humungous beaver dam which must be 8 feet high. Ducks are swimming and quacking, a Red-tailed Hawk skirts the terrain above, bullfrogs are croaking although it's a bit late for their mating if I were still in Ontario, and there are wonderful fluffy white cumulous clouds making interesting shapes overhead. It must be half an hour before I feel I must continue on.

This is the village of Turtleford, 30 km south of St. Walburg. It has a giant green man-made turtle by the Hwy. 26. Supper in a Chinese restaurant again, pioneers all, I'm told.
At the Turtleford campsite, I met Amanda, a tall, lanky, lovely looking native girl, 17 years old and a newcomer to town. Amanda's family moved here from Turner Lake, 5 hrs. north of Meadow Lake, only 2 months ago. Turtleford has only one school, she says, grades 1 - 12. It seems I'm only one in campground except for her, and remain so. The campground is also the ball diamond and she's here getting some solitude, and reading. She leaves on a really little bike, although she herself is a senior teen who looks like an Olympic runner.
The site is not 100 feet from a secondary highway, and no one else comes in so I can spread out, and pitch the tent in the middle of a big soft lawn.
Big rigs go by often throughout the first part of the night, but I finally fall asleep. I've lock my bike just in case.
I'm awakened by the most ungodly screams of coyotes running, seemingly, up the middle of the road. On the prairies, you can hear for miles, and I hear them in the distance running towards me, screaming in very high-pitched yells, sounding like there's at least 6-8 of them, getting close so fast, and then right beside me. They don't stop, though I've uncapped the bearspray and am waiting. They go past my tent, thank goodness, still this ghastly screaming like they've experienced some horrific trauma (and maybe they have). All along the road, dogs are barking at them as they run past for what sounds like maybe 2 or 3 miles. No sleeping for quite a while. As I lie here, I make plans finally to have my lip looked at in the morning and plan ti go to the hospital for sure.
Maybe I should get a trailer for the bike. Could take Mr. T for rides in it, too, when I get back to Ontario. Need new helmet. This one has pieces falling off. Legs getting stronger, I think. Can feel lots of muscle. It's lovely on the road. Very few bike shops in Sask., though. Never do find one.

Hi, Luuc! Everything going well. Enjoy the good eateries this summer. Love, K

to Meota, SK

Today: Mervin, Edam, Vaun and Meota ... the TransCanadaTrail still has the steel railroad ties lying on it here, which means using highways. It follows the highway, though, for miles.

Managed to cycle UP one entire big hill without walking it. Getting stronger!

Everyone tells me what a rainy summer it has been, including the people back home.
It's my understanding that all of Canada has had their parades rained on this year.

Lovely village, Mervin. Stopped in when I saw a highway sign for a tearoom, even though I had made green tea before leaving Turtleford.
Children are out playing and riding their bikes freely here.
I remember back at Elk Pt., Andy, the motel owner, saying that their town was crime free! I've been leaving my bike unlocked lately. It really is a safe area in all this mid-north.

Jeff and Tam own Bumbleberry's Tea and Coffee House and are very interested in organics. Apparently, Tam started out making Smart Snacks for friends. Her baking is superb using as much organic as ingredients as is possible. Jeff and Tam, Bumbleberry's Tea and Coffe House, Mervin, SK
Had organic orange juice, and the best homemade whole-wheat toast n jam. Most of the food is organic, and I tell Jeff about 'Vickie's Veggies' so he can contact her through Google to find out more about the organic foods Vicky is growing here in Picton.
Tam has the best Bearington Bears collection I've ever seen, which makes the tearoom so warm and friendly. Later, when I find Sassy, I wonder if I should send her to Tam, but Sassy still sits on my dresser here at home.
Tam's lunch menu is unlike any I seen yet, and one I would normally have never missed except that I was given the chance to use a computer across the road to catch up on my blog here and became obsessed with finishing that I've missed lunch.
Jeff lead me to a hose at the side of the tearoom, where I washed off most of the clay from the trail that was still stuck to the spokes, fenders, wheels, and frame. The mud made the bike that much heavier and it's so heavy as it is that is has probably discouraged any potential bike thief. I mentioned that my helmet needed replacing because the padding inside it is loose, and he gave me the name of a good sports store in Saskatoon. No bike stores in the prairies. Now that Ontario people are also moving to SK, maybe that will change soon. After all, there are excellent tearooms there now.

Thanks to Laura who works in the municipal office for allowing me 3 hrs., more had I wanted it, on Mervin's library computer.
Behind me, in the municipal office, I heard someone say 'I hear we have a celebrity in our midst' and Lois comes over to the computer desk, wearing a yellow Revelstoke t-shirt with a bear on it, while I'm typing, and introduces herself. When I remark about her t-shirt, she tells me of her encounter with a grizzly.
She and a friend were walking a trail, I believe in Banff. Lois had a walking stick with her when they happened upon a grizzly bear.
She hadn't noticed it but suddenly, her friend says, 'Don't move'.
She didn't.
The grizzly approached them and sniffed them all over. It even chewed on her walking stick, and was drooling so much so that Lois wondered then if it is her that the bear has in mind for lunch.
Apparently, if you stay stock still, bears will usually (or is that often) leave you alone - not always but most times so don't press your luck. Have bearspray.
I wonder if she knows the story of the Revelstoke grizzly that attacked a girl on the beach of a campground many years ago.
She screamed and screamed and a young man came running to her rescue. The grizzly then attacked him, and injured him seriously, taking off most of his face.
My cousin, Judy, was one of his nurses at the Revelstoke hospital before he was air-lifted to Vancouver.
As soon as she mended enough, the girl followed him to the hosp. in Vanc., and after months of re-couperation, they were married to each other. The following year, Queen Elizabeth came to visit Canada, and made a point of meeting them.
See, those happily-ever-stories of a prince on a white horse that we grew up with in the 50's were believable.
Of course, nowadays, Munch's 'The Paper Bag Princess' is more plausable. Sorry, just had to add that, heehee.
Lois left me 2 energy bars. I was down to 2 and a bite, so now I have 4, and a bite.

Comment on blog: 'July 28, 2008 3:30 PM ME said...So what is Saskatoon like? I'm guessing you made it there today, or will tomorrow. Hopefully you can use the library there somewhere!'
Comment from me: 'Read on. It's a wonderful province.'

Today's entries may be different from those that were text messaged in, but the wonderful job that my daughter, Josie, is doing putting the text messages into this blog is so deeply appreciated. Can't wait to have the time to read them more carefully.
Guess I'd better hit the road, though I may go see if Bumbleberry's still have any lunch left. Not likely as it's 2:33. I told Jeff about Vickie's Veggies so I'm sure he's going to look that up on the net as they, Tam and Jeff, are really into organic.

As you can see, I didn't leave then. At 3 o'clock, Laura calls out, 'Do you want to come over to the tearoom for a break, Karen?' and I sure do. When I get to the tearoom, she is sitting with friends and calls for me to join them.
Some of the names I also remember are Marianne Little whose son loves to read and wants a book, Linda, and Brandon. As I answer questions, and joke about some of my experiences, I hear a man named Ed say to the 3 ladies at his table, 'I'm going over there. It sounds like fun.' and over he comes to join us.
My one big regret on the whole trip is that I didn't go over and invite the other 3 ladies to join us, too. What a miserable oversight on my part. Ed pointed his wife got up and left the restaurant. However, the dynamics just didn't sink in my brain until later when I was coasting along the highway. It would have been so easy to put another table up beside ours.
When I went to pay, Tam told me Laura had already done so, treating me to Bumbleberry's bumbleberry/rhubarb pie and homemade iced tea - memorable!
Tam, you make the best pie ever.

Mary Esta is mapping my progress but everyday I have something so worthwhile to stop for, it may take me a millenium to get home.
Bye for now and Love, K

Comment from Paul: The rough spots are part of the adventure":
Comment from me: The rough spots are most of the adventure!!!

Comment from Mary Esta: Hi Mom! That pic with your bike on the trail is great (showing kickstand back in working order). I think I'd like Sask-cycling too - the mountains in Sask are a perfect size! :P
Comment from me: the mountains in Sask. are sometimes 4 miles long, going gradually up and up and up. You look up and see the top ahead and feel encouraged, until you reach the top of the rise, see that it flattens only a bit for a ways, and you see another hill rising above. This goes on and on.

I had a good laugh today.
As I was cycling, I pictured myself in a senior's home a year from now.
Josie and Mary Esta come to visit me.
Josie asks, 'How are your knees today, Mom? Are your legs still cramping?'
Mary Esta retorts, 'It's probably from doing The TransCanadaTrail last year, right, Mom?'
I can see myself answering with, 'What trail? Who are you?'
I burst out laughing on Hwy. 26 and chuckle for miles.
uhad2bethere. Trekking alone can 'drive' you loony.

I got to Meota around 9 pm. Why do I drive myself so hard, I wonder.
Not quite sundown because the prairie sun, esp. up north here, doesn't go down until nearly 11 pm.
There were no sites available so I pitched/squatted my little tent amid thousand of mosquitoes in a non-site corner of the park surrounded by cedars.
I am too tired to go down to the washrooms so I look in my pannier for my toothbrush and dry-brush my teeth beside the bike. A little while later, I see 4 children, about 10 - 12 years old, coming up from the beach. They walk near me on their way to the trailers. As they do, one of the girls says, 'That old lady was brushing her teeth right there.' And probably thinking 'how gross is that.'
I'm thinking, 'I wasn't spitting. Maybe I should have. How did I go from being a 'celebrity' to 'an old lady' so fast, all in one afternoon?'


Meota Swimming 'Pool'
The town decided to build that wall/dyke around a big area on the shoreline for a swimming area, and put in the fountain and tons of sand, et voila, a wonderful local beach that cyclists from Ontario can also enjoy, for free, except for the cost of the camping. Upon seeing it, I decide to stay over an extra day.

The swimming that morning was so refreshing, before the crowds came.
I sit at a picnic table on Jackfish Lake eating the fresh Bing cherries that I bought 2 days ago. The bad ones I throw to my friend, Keehar. The other gulls long ago gave up on me and left. Keehar promises not to tell on me.

In the morning, I head over for a wonderful, refreshing shower. I get all my stuff organized by the shower, my dirty clothes off and my clean clothes folded on the bench beside with my towel and face cloth, and get my loonie out, and it won't go into the box because, I assume, the money box is full.
I get dressed again, and just as I am ready to go into the other shower, someone else comes in and gets there first.
Had lunch at the canteen on the other side - choice of hotdogs, hamburgers, sandwiches, drinks, junk - and tell them about the money box being full.
The only thing I have stolen on my whole trip is here. My 2 litre water bottle! I figure someone picked up an order and thought it was theirs. I had been drinking from it, though.
After lunch, I on my blankey on the grass by the beach watching people.
Later, I fell asleep there, under a poplar tree, and awake to a couple of senior teens, a girl and a boy, playing volleyball right beside me. Not once does the ball bounce off my head.

The lake has been shrinking for a while now people tell me. Years ago the water came in 50 feet closer. In fact, the Women's Institute in town built them a 12 foot high, maybe 60 or 70 foot gigantic slide that would slide you down right into the water. I met a young couple sliding down it with their kids. The woman used to play on this slide when she were young, and she says it was old then. Now you slide down onto the sand but they were having a ball anyway, the whole family.

You can see the regata out there on the lake. They had races both days that I was there. People, mostly young boys, fish from the bank of the swimming pool into the lake. The shore is grassed and also has benches. People spread out their blankets along the lawn, mostly.

Midnight! Hiding in the washroom from a potential twister. Drying out all my clothes, sleeping bag, etc.

I was already asleep when the storm hit. Someone earlier had mentioned that there is a twister warning. The storm came up so fast and bad and with fierce winds that terrified me, pouring rain, thunder and lightning that I just grabbed a plastic bag, tore holes for my head and arms and put it on. I grabbed the nearest stuff that seemed important, esp. my sleeping bag and stuffed it all into my pillow case. My 'pillow' is a 2" piece of foam, 12" square, so there was lots of leftover room in the pillowcase. The bike wasn't locked, which was unusual, and I pushed the bike down to the washroom, with my pillowcase swinging heavily, into the driving rain and wind, getting soaked anyway. The building is made of cement blocks so I'm thinking that this might be the safest place. I forget to grab my glasses, though, and it's so dark I can barely see, esp. with the rain being driven into my face.
I push open the bathroom door, and take the bike in, too. Luckily, the panniers are on it, as my reading glasses are in one of them.
The floor in there is now muddy from me and the bike so I use up most of the rest of their paper towels mopping it up.
Then I hang up all the wet stuff on the stalls, as you see in the picture. It's relatively warm in here, compared to outside so I'm hoping things will dry, esp. the sleeping bag, or how will I sleep. Hopefully, it won't have to be in here on the cement floor.
I wonder if Mr. Tent will make it through this storm, or blow away to Ontario.
Thank goodness Sudoku is in one of the panniers. I brought a book of the puzzles that Des gave me - for emergencies - which this is.
At 11:15, I got real nervous when I heard a man's voice nearby, but then Chrissie from North Battleford comes in. She's surprised to see me. She and her significant other are also camping but at least they have a car they can jump into. Everyone else in the campground is in a trailer, 5th wheel, or motorhome. Lots of western music here today, earlier, on the beach. Most of them are here to attend a huge family reunion and the signs are up welcoming them.
Chrissie says that my tent is still up. I decide to stay a while longer to dry things out because I have now found a plug-in for my dead cell phone. It needs at least an hour.
Luckily, earlier today, I had a couple of naps, and Sudoku always keeps me awake.
At 1:15, just as I was about to leave the washroom, I hear a car pull up to the parking area outside. Cars have been going back and forth all evening, slowly, and I've been wondering if a perv is out there cruizing. I have forgotten about the reunion, so I am pretty nervous about this car, esp. when the person gets out, and I hear him coming up the walkway and he doesn't stop at the men's room.
I grab the bearspray and decap it immediately.
In bursts a woman on the run. She stops, sees me pointing that spray can at her, and screams, and I almost scream, too. Then she rushes into a stall but I have to grab the blanket off the stall door first.
Party girl! Sick!
Luckily, I can leave now.
It is no longer raining out there. I can avoid the puddles because they are the shiny spots. Anyways, I'm wearing sandals so it won't matter. I can't really 'see'. I have to walk very slowly so I don't trip over anything.
Yep, my tent is still there, it's dry inside and so are my glasses. I climb in with my pillowcase stuffed with my damp but almost dry stuff, re-distribute it all, and somehow manage to get to sleep anyway.

Happy Trails, folks.
Remember, the more you cycle, the more you want to cycle more. Except in the rain, maybe.

North Battleford, SK

An elderly couple stopped to chat with me while I was packing up in Meota that morning. They had their big ole Bassett Hound named Copper with them with his sad face and long floppy ears. The lady has in her garden this year a big-leafed plant that gives them a purple trumpet flower every day. She believes it to be an heirloom pumpkin. It probably is. I had a pumpkin plant that gave big yellow-orange flowers every day last year. The flowers started to curl in on themselves by noon each day. Then a node would grow on it, get about the size of my fist, and then get eaten by something. Thus, it flowered from August until the start of Nov.
It started to rain as I was packing, so I just packed the tent wet. Missing one of my cycling gloves - lost in last night's storm.
Strong headwinds today so I averaged only 6 miles/hr.. So exhausting. I think my body is depleted of some important nutrients.
Stopped by a little lake and watched ducks for awhile.
Further on, I came upon a big straw bale on the side of the road near North Battleford. It's a wonder I've got this far. It's taken me 6 hours and I haven't gone that far. Maybe 40 miles.
I spread my fleecy on the straw bale. Then I pulled out my wet tent and held it up high while it flaps in the strong wind to dry it out. At least, I've found the wind good for something, and the rain has stopped again. Some scene I must make for the motorists.
It's Sunday, and thousands of cars and trucks are going by as I cycle. Must be cottage country nearby and they're all coming home. As am I, only a bit slower.

Mandy and Lukamus
ucamus, 3 months old:

The evening I arrived at N. Battleford, I was so tired!!! that I could have cried. I had battled head winds all day long...(maybe that's why the area is called Battleford).
I went to the first restaurant I saw in north North Battleford, and that helped as it was quite nice, and then I thought I would look for that campground mentioned on a highway sign.
I started cycling down a main street, having had to turn east, and, as Luck Would Have It, I spotted this lovely paved sidewalk between the highway and the residential area, completely fenced and cooled by the shade of tall poplars overhead and nice bushes on both sides.
I only went a few streets east before I had to stop and sit on a bench. As I did, along came this beautiful young woman on rollerblades with a baby in a snuggly on her chest.
As she sped past me, I thought how fortunate was that little one, and watched her going down the path.
All of a sudden, she twirled around like a figure skater, and looked back at me watching her, and rollered back up to where I was sitting.
I have asked myself so often, what promted her to turn around and come back. A very powerful presence is watching over me on my trip. May it also watch this very special girl and baby.
We chatted for quite a while.
Mandy had flown to Ontario a few years ago, and had rollerbladed in our various towns/cities, hitch-hiking, and/or taking bus or train to the next one. She did Toronto, even parts of our County here as she remembers the free ferry, Kingston, Ottawa, and, eventually, Halifax.
She asked me where I was going and I said I was looking for the campground.
Mandy said "You can put your tent up in my backyard if you want?" and I didn't even argue politely first, just got back on my bike and followed her and the baby. Even riding my bicycle, it was a struggle to keep up because I had bottomed out.
She has a lovely backyard, as you can see here, with the softest grass for sleeping on. By now, I can lie down on a kitchen floor and fall asleep. Grass is a bonus, of course.
She and Lukamus come out to sit on lawn chairs with me while she breast-feeds him. She has brought me a cup of chamomile tea. Another bonus. Even though it's hot, tea is very relaxing yet satisfying.
Her Mom phoned from her home in Meota, where I was 2 days ago, to tell her that twister warnings were sent out for that evening. Wouldn't that have been a crazy coincidence if I had met her Mom in Meota, shopping or at the beach!
It was so good to go to bed that night. Mandy left the back door open so that I could use the bathroom if I needed to.
It wasn't for the bathroom, though, that I needed to come into her house that night. At 11 pm, I awoke to the flashing lights and boom of an electrical storm, fierce prairie lightning, and crashing thunder. Remembering the threat of a twister, I grabbed as much stuff as I could from the tent and rushed in, and then called upstairs "Mandy, there's an electrical storm now", to which she replied "Ohmygosh, I'm in the tub!" She got out right away and soon came downstairs with the baby. We planned that if we heard a noise like a freight train, we were going to dash into the basement bathroom.
We chatted and played with the baby for a couple of hours. She gave me a painting of The Goddess, painted by herself, and I felt so complimented. It's done with an indigo background, and is here beside my computer until I get it framed.
Then they went upstairs to bed, and I simply put my sleeping mat and s. bag on the rug in the rec-room, and fell fast asleep. As I said, kitchen floor or rec room, it mattered not.
Her Mom and Dad drove in from Meota in the morning, where I had spent 2 days at the town's campground, with her Dad going to Tim Horton's for a coffee for me, and her Mom making me a real breakfast. Man, can she cook the perfect egg(s).
Her Mom also put some nuts, and treats in baggies for me, and Mandy gave me the best tasting squash, carrot, and pea soup/casserole to take along that I ever tasted. I had it 'cold', au natural, later for supper, next morning for breakfast, and then again for lunch. I could eat that every day of my life, I'm sure. I'm still smacking my lips.
I will never forget that lovely time at Mandy's home with her, Lukamus, and her parents.
The following comment was put on my blog by Mandy:
"Hi Karen.
It's Mandy from North Battleford.
I am so happy you have made it to Manitoba.
Have a beautiful rest of the Journey.
Kiss Kiss"

If I meet more people like you, it's guaranteed, Mandy. And I did!
Please come visit me here in Wellington. I'll take you on the free Glenora Ferry again, and somewhere nice to eat, as I couldn't possibly make a dish as good as the one you popped into my pannier. I will return your container shortly.
Love, K

Happy 75th Birthday to Des!

to Langham SK

After that very energizing and delicious breakfast that Mandy's Mother made for me, I started out refreshed and renewed. Kisses from Lukomus and hugs from them.
I followed the pathway back to where I had met Mandy the night before, and then got out onto the main road south to the expressway. It was downhill all the way to south North Battleford (does that makes sense?)
It turns out to be the best distance day so far, going 118 km.
Mandy had to go to Saskatoon later, and passed me on the highway and honked. I suggested that she honk after passing me. I find it's rather startling when people honk when they're still behind me. In fact, several times on the prairies, a man has screamed shrilly out an open window on the passenger side as their car passed me by. That is the worst!
A man on a thin-tired bike passes me with greetings. Don't see many cyclists on the prairies. He is dressed like an avid cyclist, whereas I am in an old exercise capri, soft material, and turned inside out. I also wear a normal tee with my tank over the tee. My second oldest daughter, Veronica, gave it to me years ago, and it's colourful with a cyclist on the front racing along blue, pink, yellow, green and lavender vertical stripes.
Right shoulder reads 'MOUNTAIN RACER'.
Left shoulder reads 'KNARLY RIDER' with RADICAL written above the cyclist, and RACING TEAM under him/her. I wouldn't be surprised if she had designed it herself as she was in the 'Boulders, Logs, and Trees (BLT's) annual mountain bicycle race down the North Vancouver mountains. She came 7th among all, and first among the women.
In AB and SK, the highways have a paved lane on the road allowance so it's like having your own private lane to cycle in. It's great.
It's been a lucky day for me today because the wind has been pushing me. What a treat.
When I get to Radisson, I spot a campground and decide I will quit early tonight, go into the village for supper, and then relax around the tent.
It's about a mile north of Radisson, well treed, and quiet. At the entrance, I pass an empty old car that is maybe a 1962 Olds, the kind with the biggest frame ever put on a car, I think, aside from limos.
I park the bike beside a picnic table, and since no one is around, I pee right there back of the table in the bushes, and sit on the table for 1/2 hour resting.
I don't have one of those vaginal portables for women so I use a lightweight aluminum container that I keep in a baggie when not in use, and wash out often. Everything has to be lightweight. Since my capris are very stretchy, I can just put it between the legs, and then wipe. That way, if I'm desparate on the road, no one actually knows what I'm doing.
After a while, I begin to wonder if there is a nicer site and get on the bike to look around.
I pass a site with 2 abandoned rusted old vans, and then I notice that there is a man in that old car at the entrance. He looks at me and then starts the car and leaves.
The campground is wild and unkempt, and I suddenly see that this campground might be very unsafe after all, so I just turn the bike around and head back out to the road.
In Radisson, I stop for an early supper at a Chinese restaurant, Lily's Cafe, and have the best fried rice I ever remember.
The waitress seems to be the owner. She is relaxed and chatty. She says people in China eat rice 3 times a day.
I ask her if she likes living in Canada or China best.
She answers 'Here. No humidity. You see the Olympics? Fog? Air not clear. So clear here. I ride bike in evening. Can see so far.'
I'm thinking of finding a motel now because I'm so exhausted I can barely get on the bike.
My odometer reads 6l5 miles total so far, less the 77 miles from Ont., multiplied by l.6 equals number of km I've done out here to-date. 800?
Radisson is small, and looks very poor. Lots of rusty old cars and pickups abandoned around, lots of real old woodframe houses that look pretty rickety, decrepid and empty.
Once I get back out to the highway, I decide to try a few more miles. With the wind still at my back, I don't want to waste it so think I'll try l0 more miles. It becames 30 more..3 hours.
Big, blooming Baby's Breath growing at the sides of the highway between Radisson and Borden, in particular. Gives a kind of grayish cast, and I love it. I even consider picking some to take with me, and I stop, and then reconsider. What foolishness would that be?
When I finally get to Langham, there is only one site left, and I had foolishly passed by it to look for a better one further back from the highway, and almost missed out on it entirely. Luckily, I wasn't too long. The campground, River Valley RV, is so clean and pleasant.
There is a small camper next to my site, and as I finish putting up my tent, I think I hear a knock on its window. I choose to ignore it in case it is somebody who is strange, and I'm too done in to deal with it tonight.
A few minutes later, a man named Dan asks me to come have tea with him and his wife, Reine (prob. not spelled correctly). They have their tent up on the other side of mine. The fellow who owns the camper has gone to hospital for a leg operation, and has invited them to use it until he gets back. I think I could use a leg operation myself.
They have come out west from Windsor, ON to get jobs in Saskatoon. Dan has one now at the potash mine, and drives the 30 miles into town every day at 6 am.
Reine goes with him, downloads resumes at the library and puts them around in various group homes as that is her profession.
Once they've both got jobs, they will look for an apt. in the Toon, as it is sometimes called.
We chat for over 2 hrs. A friend of theirs' joins us for awhile, too, standing in the open door as the camper isn't much more than a 22 footer.
When I get back into my tent, I start to shake. It seems I got chilled, as we had the camper door open, and I hadn't changed my clothes before coming over, so they had likely been damp.
My sleeping bag won't warm me up now, once the shakes start.
Suddenly, I hear Dan at the tent, saying 'Karen, Reine asked me to bring you this comforter and some laundry soap and a toonie for tomorrow morning'.
Don't the most wonderful things happen! How could she have known. I hadn't complained. I was warmed up in a matter of minutes.
Wish I had a picture of them to put here. Both are extremely good looking with kindness written all over their faces. A most beautiful blend.
I leave late next day - clean body; clean clothes!

Anonymous said... Hi Mom!Yep - I'm still tracking this. We still can't believe you're doing it! ME

July 28, 2008 3:30 PM ME said... So what is Saskatoon like? I'm guessing you made it there today, or will tomorrow. Hopefully you can use the library there somewhere!

to Grasswood, SK

Reine and Dan have left for work before I get up so I fold up the quilt that Dan loaned me last night, and have to put it on a plastic lawn chair beside their little trailer which is locked, and turn the chair so that it is against the trailer facing in to keep the wind from picking it up and giving it to the next county.
This is the nicest campground I have been in so far.
The washrooms are lovely, and there is a laundry. For a loonie you can do a wash, and for 25 cents you can dry the whole load.
By noon, I 'Am on the Road Again, Willie Nelson, and loving it, as the wind is at my back.
It's only 30 miles to Saskatoon from Langham, and Dan has suggested what streets to use that should get me down to the bike shop. I need a new helmet as the padding in this one is loose. I want a bigger sleeping bag, too. The one I have now is Josie's, who is size 6-8, while I'm size 16 but losing.

22 km north of Saskatoon I pass a small red-haired doll on the highway. At first, I tell myself to ignore it, but a ways down the road, I just HAVE to turn around and go back. I am just going to get a photo it, you see. She has a scrunched and broken right leg. When I pick her up, the booted leg falls off. I put her up against the grasses and take the pic. Shall I take her, I ask myself? I just can't leave her there, although I feel uncomfortable at first. It feels like I might be bringing bad luck to myself. What nonsense, but then I've been alone too long. Also, we have a doll doctor here in Prince Edward County and so I tuck her in among the clothes panier, and name her 'Missy'. Later in the day, I change her name to 'Sassy' because I've found her so close to Saskatoon.
Saskatoon Sassy

By mid-afternoon, I'm in Saskatoon at a northend Tim Horton's. Since I only have $2.00 cash, it means buying a muffin to go with my Gatorade. I mainly need the rest and the air conditioning.
This is rather a big city to be cycling through. So far I have stayed on their expressway - sure couldn't do that in Toronto.
I have to find E.B. Sports around 48th, I think and I figure it's prob. 2 miles south, near the river.
I'm wrong. I get downtown partly on the expressway because there doesn't seem to be any other way, as I stopped and asked 2 people. At one corner I am just about to ask a taxi driver who is stopped at an apt. building when my chain falls off. I'm so distracted that he gets away. I am devastated and bewildered. What to do? The bike is so heavy and awkward, but I think to put it up on the kickstand, pedal slowly and guide the chain back on. It works! Increases my sense of self-worth immensely.
I'm thinking that the store is likely across the river - my nemisis, The North Saskatchewan - and so I coast down the main street, a stop-light at every block. Lots of suppertime traffic. A youngish native fellow puts his head out of the car window and asks where I started and how far I've gone. I answer Edmonton, about 900 km. (or whatever it was then). He yells 'Yay' with a thumbs up. So much fun. I'm grinning and enjoying it thoroughly.
At the bridge, there is no way a bike can join the traffic safely to get across.
I cycle around and ask someone how to get across. He points down to the end of the street beside the bridge, and says cyclists have been coming and going from there all day.
It's fenced, but I ask the men who are working there, and they point towards the bridge, but underneath it, and let me through the work area.
I cycle on a path that takes me under the bridge and it's all construction so I follow the path a ways in the semi-darkness along a 4 ft. high ridge of earth. The path ends 200 ft. in, although I know the river must be close. There is only one way out of here other than back, and I hate going back, and that is down the ridge. After dismounting, I have to remove the four paniers, the sleeping bag, sleeping mat, and blanket, and drop them over the side of the ridge to the dirt below. A grader is working down there leveling the dirt and smoothing it for paving, I guess, but he stays back. Then I have to lift the bike and drop it, hoping I break nothing, and then somehow get down myself. It surely isn't easy as it's 4 ft. at least, but I manage, and then pray I can get the paniers back on, as full as they are. It's a real struggle for me. I'm so hot and dirty, and scared.
However, I push the bike up and out of the underpass-to-be and am now on the bridge with all the pavers working away. Two slow down their machines and let me by, but one does not and is only inches from me with the traffic from the two lanes to the left swishing by.
There are no stores on the south side after all, except for a variety store.
I ride for 2 miles and end up on a secondary highway going south. Past a golf course, I decide to go back to find the main highway.
Four miles or so out of town on the south side of Saskatoon, I find Grasswood. It's a native community for the most part. The gas station has a good restaurant, and then across the 4-lane, there is camping, right beside the highway going south to Regina, but it is nice lawn for the tent. Quite a few truckers have stopped there, too. I am beside a motel but next morning I discover that the real camping area is on the other side of the motel. I always bring the bearspray and the bike light into the tent at night, though.
Its 248 km to Regina from here.

to Blackstrap Lake Prov. Park, SK

Anonymous said...'Great to see the map of exactly where you are currently. Happy Trails, K'

Met a nice horse like a palomino, but it doesn't like energy bars. I had pulled off the highway on a dirt road for a rest. Across the old railway track, I put down my blanket in the long grass, and the horse was my companion for awhile. It was fenced in with a woods behind it. There might have been a path through the woods for it to access other pastures, but I couldn't see one. It looked like it was trapped in that small area.

Dundurn statue of The Bones Collector.
Buffalo bones were collected years after the buffalo had been all killed off.

The story here is that, again, I had battled very strong headwinds to Dundurn. Winds were so strong that even when coasting down hill, the bike wouldn't go over 5.5 miles/hr., that is, 8 km./hr.
I went into Friend's Cafe/Bakery where I met Marg who is 86, and her daughter, Lyn.
Marg is a retired farm girl who is still doing pushups at 86 and very active.
She suggests to me that I go to Blackstrap Park, 7 km. east, because she feels my knees and legs need a day's rest and she adds that I must be getting lonely.
She says there's camping in Dundurn back near the highway beside the motel, if I'd rather.
When Marg leaves Friend's, she puts her hands along the top of two chairs, lifts her feet off the floor, and swings back and forth a few times before leaving. She's lithe and thin but still strong, and full of positive energy.

Approximate Progress Map to date
'Mom is approaching the halfway point between Edmonton and Kenora. I think she is taking a day to enjoy the current campground and rest up for the next leg of the trip to Regina. [Josie]'

Up hill after hill to Blackstrap and me dying most of the way, even before I started, and then a long hill down to Blackstrap Lake in the valley below (which I have to walk back up 2 mornings later).
Lots of pelicans down on the lake. Seven flew overhead that evening, gliding past like giant white condors. The wings are black tipped, and the pale yellow beaks must be 4-5 ft. long.

Hazelnut campground. So tired that I can barely put my little one-woman tent up. The ground is so lumpy, inspite of my good sleeping mat, that I can hardly get to sleep. Next morning I will move it, and scrape the ground before I re-erect the tent but it's too dark now.
That night I had a strange visiter. Woke up after midnight to the sounds of very loud crunching which I thought to be a bear trying to get into the food panier, and grabbed and decapped the bearspray real quick, unzipped the tarp as loudly as I could hoping to scare it away, shone my bike flashlight towards the bike and paniers first and then around the site but saw nothing. The crunching stopped, though, and then there was a mad scrambling of breaking branches as whatever it was tore through the bushes at the side of my site, followed with a big splash. It sounded like a bear or a person falling into the water.
My heart started thumping wildly when I thought maybe not a bear but a man.
My campsite was waterfront with a little dropoff where the lake met site.
Couldn't get back to sleep. I wondered if maybe the bear, or guy, didn't know the embankment to the lake was there and had fallen in.
About fifteen minutes later, the crunching started again, so I was sure it was an animal rather than a person, and this time the flashlight didn't deter the critter, which I still thought to be a bear or raccoon. I wondered why the fellow in the next site, whose food seemed to be in the process of being invaded, didn't get up and protect it - at least put it in his car. I figure the animal is eating crackers. Turns out his site was further over than I thought.
I listened to the crunching for at least an hour, and suddenly with a great crash, a tree falls across the road with a crash not 10 feet from the tent. The owner of the tent on the other side of mine woke up and yelled out in fright.
Then another splash.
And my brain said 'BEAVER!'
I think, just like a mountain climber, the beaver probably felled that birch just because it was there, although he will probably try to tell you that he was sharpening his teeth.
I'm relieved that that mystery is solved, but can't get back to sleep. I lie there thinking about my trip, wondering whether to stay longer.
All of a sudden, I see a brown hairy hand coming through the opening of the tarp and yell as loud and as deeply as I can hoping to scare it away. I grab and decap the bearspray again. As I do so, I remember that I had zipped the tarp opening down and so the hand couldn't be where I have just seen it. There's nothing there now.
It begins to dawn on me that I've drifted off and have had a nightmare.
So I relaxed and eventually went to sleep. Hard when your heart is thumping madly.

Comment from Viewer: "Sounds like a Blair Witch night. Glad you are safe. Love Jo"

In the early morning, the man on the north side tried with my help to move the fallen tree off the road because the cars were crashing over the end of it rather than take the long road back, up a hill and around the other side. It was too heavy and we couldn't budge it.
I desparately want to make tea but the sterno stove is out of fuel. Non of the hardware stores have carried it, though I haven't stopped at that many.
Later, the man on the site south of mine, and wearing track pants whose bum reads
RCMP, moved it with the help of a man who drove up in a car. The beaver has felled it in exactly the only spot where it could fall without lodging between trees, which very luckily for me is across the road instead of across my tent.

Warm with strong southeast winds so I'm glad to stay put. My knees hurt so I'm sure I couldn't have gone far today, anyway. Will definitely stay here. Nice park.

In the afternoon, Sue, and her daughter Michele, drop by my picnic table for a chat. When I tell them of last night's adventure, one of them says, 'No bears south of Saskatoon, Karen.'
I put myself on a liquid diet of energy food, bars and mix, for the day, and lay about to give my poor legs a rest. I have no energy, anyway.
There's a sandy beach 9 km. further down but I haven't enough energy to cycle down.
My knees hurt quite a bit although I've had no leg cramps while cycling the whole trip. They come on the train trip home.
Later, around supper time, I hear 'Karen, Karen, oh, are you sleeping?'
It was Michele, and, no, I wasn't sleeping but in the tent on my back resting, with the tarp up so I could look at the lake.
'Would you like to have a hamburger with us?' she asked me.
Would I!!! Real food? No restaurants or variety stores out here at this park.
My sterno stove (can) empty.
My cell phone had died but the office 1/2 km. back had an outside plug that I had been invited to use. Hated leaving it there unprotected but had to.
I had only 1/2 litre of water left, albeit water purifier that Josie had given me, and also a bit of Gatorade.
There's still lots of dried fruit, though, and the energy bars and mix.
So over I trudge with Michele, wearing an old pair of exercise tights that I forgot I had on until I realized, 'Oh, no, these are my jammie pants'. The trouble was - still is - that there is a 1-inch hole in the back upper thigh that looks like a moth ate through. I put on my jacket - she was in short sleeves - because whenever my system gets down, I feel cold or get the chills. The jacket partly covered the hole.
Her Mom, Sue, had made the best potato salad ever, homemade potato salad to die for and real no-fill hamburgers, and slices of tomato and onion and dill, I think, and cheese, and dessert, and so much more. Everything you'd need for a perfect picnic. Next day they were to have an annual family reunion there and what better place I can't imagine.
Michele and Vern live on a farm near Craik which they share with their nanny and her kids. She says she names all her animals, but they do sell the kids. Sue is close by.
When Sue and Michele say goodbye to me, they gave me the warmest and most sincere hugs that I have ever experienced. What a wonderful memory.
Thank you to both of you. I'm so happy to have met you.

Sue, Michele and Vern at Blackstrap Lake

"Picture of Blackstrap Lake sunset July 3lst from Sue, Michele & Vern's camp site."
[Wow! Great picture with the camera phone! Impressive. Josie]

Anonymous said...What a serene view K. Wish I was there. Happy Trails, Love Jo

When I get back to my campsite after that wonderful dinner, the man next door calls out that my friend is back, meaning the beaver but it doesn't spend the night chewing another tree.

Someone took the two big toilet tissue rolls out of womens' bathroom while I was at dinner. Have to steal pieces from the mens' bathroom. Can't believe it!
This part of the park is for tenters only. The campground for trailers and motorhomes is 9 km. down the road where the sand beach is. Right!

Message on blog from them: "Hi Karen. Sue, Mick & Vern here. We are so surprised the miles you have made. Hope your knees hold out, we know you can do it. We are so thrilled to have met you.
Safe Journeys. A warm hug from us to you."

to Kenaston, SK

Indi Lake - A dozen pelicans (that rim of white across the lake) rearing as many young are out on that small spit of a tiny island closeby and I watch them through my binocs as I sit on my blankey in long grass overlooking the lake. Their bills are huuuge - at least 4 feet long.
I have to use my cellphone camera because I lost my USB cord in the big hail storm back at Bonnie Lake. Because of this, unfortunately, my pictures aren't good, nor can I zoom in. I have a Samsung Camera, BIG MISTAKE, because replacing parts is next to impossible, parts are exacting meaning that one can't use a generic cord, and parts cannot be replaced without months of waiting, I've learned. I'm still waiting. And p'd off about it, too.

There is such a strong headwind from the southeast that I can't even coast downhill today - have to pedal instead except for the steep hill down to the south end of Indi Lake here. Ate lunch which was Power drink and energy bar - a cashier told me later that her son said that Power has a lot of sugar in it but Gatorade is not always available - down at the bottom of this beautiful, deep valley, and contemplating the prospective of having to walk back up a mile high hill.
It turns out to be almost 4 miles of continuous climbing uphill out of here in deadly heat - 30 degrees, no clouds, wind cruel and in the face. However, the road leveled out occasionally where I could get back on and ride the bike a bit.
What I have found helpful on these steep, long hills is tacking, almost like a sailboat tacking into the wind. I go a bit to the left, and then let the bike 'fall' back to the right shoulder so that it picks up speed imperceptibly, and I pedal a tiny bit easier and go left again, etc. etc. in the lowest gear possible. I usually get off and walk it as there is no sense straining my heart muscles needlessly. I want to survive this trip so I can talk about. Love to talk.

My text to Josie: 'In Hanley. Same headwinds. Only 20 km in 5 hrs.'
August 1st: In Hanley I had iced tea with 4 ladies in a Chinese restaurant. One of them works in the municipal office so I asked her about Outlook. The TransCanTrail is to go from Hanley to Outlook. She said it was 50 km. to the west of here, on gravel roads and that it would be hard riding on a bicycle as the big trucks throw up a lot of stones. Gravel means not fine, but coarse, of course. As my dog, Benny the Bumpkin says, 'Rough! As far as this lady knew, it was also gravel roads all the way from Outlook to Moose Jaw.
I'm thinking, 'No way! I've had it with the TCT and rough gravelled roads, and especially going back west. I want to go south and east. I like the smooth highways now that I'm getting used to the noise of trucks/traffic on pavement.'

My next text message: 'This hwy. is the old Louis Riel trail. It's still a trail and goes to Moose Jaw, too, so I'm staying on Hwy. ll. The wind is gusting and veering to the southwest although I think it's not quite as strong as earlier. Didn't get any of the text messages from Marjo that you mentioned. Did u get pic of Sue, Michele and Vern? Hi to Luuc and everyone else. Thanks for all your support. luv K.'

Next message: 'I actually left the TCtrail route at Hanley when I didn't go west 50 km. so I guess I'm out of the game now. I'm at Kenaston now. Did only 48 km today but the in-my-face-making-me-want-to-cry wind let up for the last l5 km. It's about l80 to Moose Jaw from here. luv'

The campground in Kenaston is right by the 4-lane highway, behind an arena. I need a beer so badly but am way too tired to go get on the bike again, let alone cycle through the village.
A handsome, 6 ft. as-is-normal-here-on-the-prairies, 30ish man with a trailer next to my site came over and chatted, then asked me if I wanted to come over for some whisky.
I told him no but thanks anyway and he said, "It never fails me".
"It fails me," I replied. "It puts me right on the floor with a terrible pain in my stomach."
He began to ask a lot of personal questions so I told him Harley and his friend had gone over to Outlook to check out the TCTrail and that we would join up either later tonight or tomorrow and that I was waiting for a call from them, but had had to plug in my cell phone to recharge. It was the first time I had had to tell anyone about Harley, but Harley was the name my friend, Jo-Anne, had suggested before I left for this use.
I had forgotten what Harley's friend's name was to be, but next day as I was cycling happily along the highway, I remembered - Joey.
I've also forgotten this fellow's name. He used to be a rodeo rider, as was the guy who works for him who was off at the bar having that beer I needed.
He said he is from Alberta & installs fence posts for the ranchers.
It's so noisy here beside the highway. A Kenaston nt.'

The next morning I had a badly needed shower. Hadn't wanted to the night before because there are no windows in there, and the light switch was right by the door. I had seen a 1960's big square Ford come by, windows wide open (no air conditioning back then in cars, I guess), 4 big adults laughing, as I was pitching the tent. They drove up to the washrooms, got out and were quite a while before driving away again. I guessed that they were poor and had their own daily showers here.
Next morning, I decided to have that shower, but took my bikelight and my bearspray with me. I kept it close.
After my shower, a woman came in and chatted. She might have weighed 80 lbs. and it seems she spoke with a French accent. Now I recognize her as having been in the other car that had driven around last night, which had also made me nervous. Of course, she and her mate are the superintendents of the park and she was here to clean the washroom, too.
She admired my tan and I pointed out how uneven it is from my cycling clothes.
She replied, "Oh, its great to be a pinto!"

to Bethune, SK

I've done 33 km today so far along the Louis Riel Trail (a highway).
Bladworth done and am now at Davidson having soup and a vegetable wrap at Subway. When you first pull off the road, there's a tourist area that has a beautiful log building, and a big roomy screened-in bird sanctuary behind it as you can see faintly in this picture.

Davidson Tourist bureau, and Bird Sanctuary.
Earlier in the day, I had ridden passed a little bird on the road allowance, just sitting there. When I realized that I had passed a live bird by the glint in its eye, (it didn't move an inch as the bike passed it) I stopped the bike, put it up on the kickstand, and walked back out in the highway so that if the bird got scared and ran, it would run to the side of the road instead. Even when I picked it up, it didn't move but it did look up at me. I put it in a nice nest of long grass, and said a little prayer for it. Now, seeing this sanctuary, I wonder if I should have brought it here. I'll never know. Hopefully, it got its strength back, and flew off.

The roadkill of choice in this area of SK is not prairie dog but skunk. In fact, you rarely see prairie dogs on the highways now. Years ago, I would see hundreds or thousands of them as I drove through the prairies. So, you see, the farmers have killed them off, just as they've done here in Ontario with the groundhogs. Not to mention how many of themselves they've killed kindly with cancer because of their other poisons, toxins, and chemicals while feeding the world.
Also, I passed by at least 3 dead seven-inch salamanders. I'm wondering now if maybe they were skinks, not salamanders. Strange to see them on a highway. I thought they lived their lives in dark areas like under logs etc.

I am riding with my right glove only as during that big storm in Meota, my left one left. It has taken some getting used to, but isn't that uncomfortable.

I'm in Craik, home of Sue, Michele and Vern whom I met in Blackstrap. They raise kids. They name them but sell them for the meat, although, if I remember correctly, they have other animals, too. I'm in a Craik bar because I'm desparately hot and need a beer. I sit by myself but a fellow comes over and chats about my bike outside. He offers to let me set up my tent on his lawn although he will not be home tonight but off with 'the boys' somewhere and wouldn't mind if I pitched there. There's chat in the bar about a do somewhere down the road and people have been talking about who is going in what car.
Their town, Craik, is trying to go green as much as possible, and have made a flax bale house, among other things. Didn't get to see it, though. It's so hot, with a fierce headwind from the east, and I'm far too tired to hunt further for it. I rested and tried to go a bit further that day.
I message Josie: 'I think I'd like to head for the SK/MB border and start coming home. cya'

When I got to Chamberlain just after supper, I had to make two choices. Do I continue on - couldn't find a campground there - or do I look for a hidden farmer's field area to set up my tent. I decide to continue on. It's hot, and I'm very tired. Even at work, I rarely did 10 hour days like I'm doing now.
Second choice was whether to take the fork in the highway down south to Moose Jaw, as planned, and look for the TCT there, or to stay on the Louis Riel all the way to Regina. The TCT is elusive. I started up the Moose Jaw road, but within 10 feet, turned the bike around and headed down towards Regina.

In a text message to Josie and Mary Esta, I wrote that 'I will do what I can but my knees are losing strength'.

I rode and rode, obsessively, as I wanted to stop but 'just 1 mile more'. From Chamberlain on, I ride beside a big valley on the north side. I know it means that I will have to cross it at some point, and I try to think like Louis Riel. I think he likely followed along the top of the ravine until he reached the Qu'Appelle Valley, so I won't have to cross before then, and I guess right.

Bethune is quite a ways away but I head for it, hoping I will come across the perfect camping spot first. No such luck.
However, 4 miles west of Bethune I pass a rest spot. A rim of trees surrounds it, and then fields. There's a washroom, and lawn, and it looks inviting. No one is there, but it looks like just a resting area, not camping. I consider putting up camp there, anyway, when I notice a black pickup coming west in the opposite lane and slowing down. It turns in there. As I stand beside the bike, I watch him get out and go over to the washrooms. He stays quite a while, but when he comes out, he turns east instead and passes me. Foolishly, I think it might be some perv checking it out, and start up the highway again. To be the only camper in an area so exposed and close to the highway seems too dangerous.
Later, I realize that he was probably the one who checks the grounds every day.
These camp grounds by every village and town are often donated and run by Lion's Clubs etc.

I have finally reached Bethune. I have gone a record, for me, of 92 miles (144 km) today. I believe the signs on the highway showed a motel to be in the hamlet. Not! Two teens I pass and stop to talk to tell me I could use the ball park just south of the hamlet.
At first, I go to the back of the ball park, and find an area that is enclosed by a tall wooden fence and think that would be great. I pitch the tent among dozens of picnic tables stored there. The ground is packed so hard I can barely get the pegs in. Then I notice the big swinging 'door' as part of the compound, and envision someone locking me in, accidentally or not. I might die of thirst before I'd ever be found. So I take down the tent, and go 'outside', and pitch beside a womens' outhouse.
My sleeping bag is soaked. I had forgotten to unpack it at noon and dry it out. I spread the 2 x 5 ft. kid's fleecy blanket I carry directly onto my sleeping mat and then put the blue plastic tarp on top of that, then the sleeping bag on top of both of them, so I shouldn't be bothered with the wetness of the sleeping bag but will benefit from its warmth. Then I pray that it works and I can sleep. It does.
It looks like rain again with lightning to the south. I hear the rumble of the thunder as I lie there, and a couple of cows in the near distance. Their lowing soothes me, and I eventually drift off.

to Regina - east 10 miles

Comment on blog: "Wow! Mom - I got typed all your texts from July 23 until yesterday and just printed them now for Lucas. I love all these pictures Josie put up. Thanks so much, Josie, for posting this :)

I started out from Bethune's ball diamond in the morning by 6 am but had to pack my tent wet. It didn't rain last night but I was fairly comfortable in spite of a wet sleeping bag, by using the tarp. I put it under my sleeping bag like a blanket. There was considerable wetness on it underneath - sweat, I guess - but it didn't premeate the s. bag itself, thank goodness.
No restaurant in the hamlet so I eat part of an energy bar before leaving and drink the last of my Power drink. I prefer Gatorade but can't often get it this far north or this far from a big city.

"In Bethune 5:50am. Regina. That way!"
The ball diamond is at the far end of the hamlet, away from the highway, but next door to a cow farm. Two distinct cows mooed back and forth all night, and all morning, as if they were talking to each other but each knew only one word in cow, each with their own distinctive way of saying 'moo'.
As I pitched the tent last night, an electrical storm descended, but didn't actually reach Bethune, but must have been pretty close. I was working as fast as I could to get the tent up and my stuff inside before the rain, and it was almost dark. It was hard to see everything. I always took the bear spray in with me at night, and the bike light...LED, luckily as it never wore out. I was uncomfortably uneasy, not because of the lightning, but because there was a bar not far away, and cars going up and down that back road that the ball diamond was on, occasionally, for hours.

Usually by noon you'd find me sitting by the side of the highway, and me taking turns holding the tarp and then the tent up so that they fly in the wind, drying out. Sometimes the wind is so strong that, like a kite, it never touches the ground. On those days, I clip them together so one doesn't get away on me.
I start out early in the hopes that I can get 3 hours in before the wind picks up which is usually 9 am. Usually 10 am in Ontario. That way, if it's going to be in my face, again, I will at least get 30 miles in of relatively easy riding.
I am still on the highway called The Louis Riel Trail, to Regina. It's Sunday, so only one vehicle in 15 minutes, average. Great! The road to myself. And the wind is at my back, and stays that way for the rest of the trip. What Luck!
Lots of people wave in this area, esp. the few truckers - Sunday, you see.

Lumsden is down at the bottom of a deep river valley and there is a TransCanadaTrail sign at the top. I coast down slowly as I'm afraid of losing control and going over the side. The hill is steep. In Riverview Park, at the bottom, I drink the Gatorade I was able to get from a gas station across the road. It's beautiful here, and I plug in my phone, and spread my clothes and sleeping bag out on the 2 picnic tables to dry. Then I sit down at the corner of one and write in my journal.
There are a few campers, and a horrible washroom but I use it anyway. A man stops me near the washroom and chats. They are building a new washroom facility soon. I hate to be rude but I have to excuse myself. The washroom floor is 2 inches deep in water. There must be a leak somewhere, and I hear women exclaim as they come and go. It really is awful.
Lumsden is in the lovely Qu'Appelle Valley. I've been following the valley for 2 days and many miles, and knew it would eventually take me into a valley too deep to cycle out of. I prepare mentally for another long uphill walk but I wonder, hopefully, if I can find the TCTrl, maybe it will leave the valley in a gradual uphill way.
I dry my stuff out there while waiting for the phone to re-charge, and then remount to hunt for the ever elusive TransCan.Trail. I find it, and it's a hard-packed sandy trail maybe 20 feet above the Qu'Appelle River among trees and scrub and wildflowers. Such a lovely ride until only 1 mile into the ride, the trail simply ends at a barricade by the highway. I know I can hunt for it across the highway, but it's too complicated to find the route across - (a four-lane/bridge/overpasses) so I opt for continued highway riding, instead, the rest of the way to Regina.
My heart's gone out of the TransCanadaTrail part of this venture. I know I'm on my way home, one way or another. And it's sunny & warm which definitely boosts my spirits.

On reaching Regina, I'm cycling on a 4 lane with a grassy medium in between.
As I pass a weigh-scale station, closed, I pull in for a rest and head down a slope into the long grass to be under a poplar tree. There are several. I lie down on my little fleecy and fall fast asleep with the traffic flowing by. I wonder what they think about seeing my packed bicycle, and me asleep nearby. The bike is locked, but that doesn't mean I'd be safe. Actually, in the prairies, I find I was quite safe all through the trip. I even stopped locking my bike except near big cities.
In Regina, I found a Joey's Seafood for an early supper, and an air-conditioned break. Across the street is a Zeller's so went in there, too, and found a bigger fleece blanket that I dearly need for cold nights. A quilt would be far too big and bulky to carry but the other fleecy (Mr. T's) is just too small for me.

On looking back, I can't believe how in Saskatoon and Regina, I cycled from north to south ends on their expressway. Gives me the shivers now thinking about it now. Regina's is called The Loop, and it was like a big circle, and took me right to the TransCanadaHighway finally. I didn't get a motel in town because it would be too expensive, but I knew I needed one as I needed to soak in a hot bath despite the heat of the day.

52 miles today. I'm in a motel, had a light meal and then rented a room for only $45 and well worth the 2 hot baths I've had. It's about l0 km east Regina. So, it's only 340 miles to Winnipeg now! (550 km?)
The winds today were pushing me - may the wind be always at your back. Bonus!!! It was Wonderful!
The air conditioner is not working in the motel room. There's a huge parking lot out there for the big rigs so the temperature in here with today's sun beating down must be 95 degrees at least and my legs will not carry me back to the office to complain. The other rooms are filled anyway. I have turned on the air conditioner's fan and if I lie on the bed near it's southern edge I can get enough light breeze maybe to sleep but it is screaming, too. It will be so hard to sleep tonight - as bad as my worst night camping out, I bet.

Josie just called and let me know about that dreadful murder by stabbing and decapitation on a Greyhound bus. Portage La Prairie is not too far from here. I calculate that he may have made his first stab about the time the bus was even with Piet and Lorelie's place - the Spruce Woods Prov. Park area. As exhausted as I am, there is no way I can fall asleep as I keep thinking about this. Think of the terrible trauma that the people and bus driver who witnessed it must be undergoing. Josie says they are taking therapy for it now. I cycle and don't buy newspapers to read at night as I just pitch the tent, and pitch myself into it. The passengers banded together at the bus door to keep him from getting out of the bus after it stopped and he brought the young victim's head up front for them all to see. They will never get completely over that for as long as they live. I feel as deeply for them as I do for the poor young man.
It must have been this that the coffee group in the Dundurn restaurant were discussing the morning I stopped in for breakfast after leaving Blackstrap Prov. Park. All I heard was a fellow saying 'He had to have known the guy to have gotten into such a rage to have stabbed him that many times.'
I thought it was a local murder but didn't butt in and ask.
I believe that it would have to be a person with multiple personalities. That condition is caused, I believe, by terrible abuse when a child is young as a means of coping with the abuse. Time will see. He is being kept in the Portage jail until after the court case.
Until this, I had felt so safe. Tonight, for the first time, I feel scared.
It was well past midnight before I finally drifted off to sleep. In the tent, I can be asleep by 9:30.

Text message: Hi, Luuc, Karen here. The restaurant special tonight served liver and onions! Too bad you have to miss it. Sure am glad I did.

[From Josie... I talked to Mom on the phone tonight... she is wondering if there is anyone interested in driving to Kenora to get her in a week? ha ha ha. As long as the wind doesn't turn around again, she thinks she'll be in Kenora in a week. But she can take greyhound home... or wait... maybe Via Rail would be the better option?]

to Grenfell, SK

Received invitation from Josie to stop at Piet and Lorelie's past Brandon, MB.
Answer: "Sure will. Just got to find out best hwy. to take south from TransCan. I was planning to phone them when I reached the Manitoba border. Thanks, Jo, I'm in Indian Head having tea. It's bigger than I remember from previous road trips. Every place is. From a car, you see so little. The wind is strong from northwest. Isn't that what every cyclist prays for: the wind at my back and not in my face. Some days I just felt like crying after battling those strong south and east prairies winds.

Text message to Josie:
"Just passed Sintaluta.
Lovely name, musical, likely native.
I sat on the grass beside the highway for awhile just because the area felt 'good' spiritually. It was in the air.
I've done 50 km today."


Lots of old cars on the highway - reminds me of zipping down the hwy. east of Smoky Lake with Milt McRae in his 1947 Ford (above) to see his wife's old homestead. Imagine! Only 3 or 4 wks. ago.


Wolesley: mural on the grocery store.
Doncha just love the kids, and the old car!
When I stopped to take this picture (cell phone photo so not so good) a man in a white pick-up stopped to chat - from his yes white truck - and suggested that people take a look at this 12 year old girls website: www.thegirlwhostoppedtheworld.com [not a website that I nor my daughters can find - I must have one word wrong]. It is wonderful how people are so extraordinarily cordial.
Had hamburger soup and poutine at Wolesley. First time for me - hamburger soup.
Unless you count Italian Wedding soup.
This is the prettiest town I have been in and could quite happily move here. Tourist map says 85 miles to border. It's 15 miles from here to Grenfell. That will leave just 70 miles to do tomorrow and then I'm in Manitoba. I think the map was also in miles. I'm glad that my odometer was set in miles instead of kilometers because I get to each town so much quicker...heehee.
Woman came over to chat with me in Wolesley who had moved down from NWT a couple of years ago and just loves it here.
Beautiful campground here by a river - wish I was staying but I have to take advantage of this wonderful tailwind so I head for Grenfell instead.
I must have referred to Wolesley as Pleasantville in a text message to Mary Esta as I've just come upon her answer as I was going over old messages:
"Wow, I think your entire trip is Pleasantville. You must be close to the border. You are spirited."

Grenfell: Dirtiest restaurant I've ever seen - Esso. I left even though I needed a meal real bad. Had an avacado and can of ravioli in my pannier so ate that instead.
CPR runs ryt by here.
Greyhound driver westbound waved at me from across hwy. when I was stopped for a drink (I always stop to drink so I get a break as well). That was a first. The bus drivers must be feeling their neck over that horrific murder near Portage La Prairie a couple of days ago.
Cyclists always seem to wave at other cyclists, or come over and chat if you're stopped for a bit, or even ride with you for a bit here on the prairies.
Motorcyclists never - Piet says it's because you don't dare to move your hand off the throttle. I guess that is the gas peddle so they have developed this one-finger wave, according to what my brother tells me. His old motorcycle still sits in his Edmonton garage, unused but not forgotten.
Scooterists often wave, and I wonder if it isn't because just last year they were formerly cyclists, but have now upgraded. May be me next year, and maybe Harley, too.
Truckers wave in AB and SK if it's a two-lane highway, but not usually a four.
Some cars honk lovely little melodies, and some men actually scream out the window as they drive by - that sure gives one a jolt!
Vanagons, motorhomes, and campers have never waved at me. They rarely even look my way, it seems. With one exception: this couple, Eiler and Manon, whom I have just met, wave at me and give a little honk next day when they pass me, again.
I find that basically people are so friendly. I love this trip.

"Am invited to Eiler and Manon's huuuge motorhome for herbal tea.

Eiler and Manon in Banff

"Left Behind: Eiler had just sold his condo in Vanc., and bought the motorhome. They are headed back to Manon's home province of Quebec. They invite me in for tea, and what a swanky (do people use that word anymore?) pad it is. It has a least two pop-outs, as well as absolutely everything one might want to live 'happily ever after', in any Floridian, Californian, or any Canadian park.
Manon, and another couple at the park, were happily Quebecois, and chatting in French for a while. Both couples had seen and passed me on the TransCanadaHighway earlier that day, but 20 miles further back from me, they both had first passed a male cyclist whom they all had thought was probably my husband. They figured I had simply left him in the dust.
I can't help wondering how many hundreds more people that day thought the very same thing.
I wonder where he got to, that 'husband of mine', poor fellow.

From hereonin right to Brandon, Manitoba, cell phone text messages were not sending or else were not being answered. That was really bothersome.

Moosimin, SK.

Ehler and Manon just passed me and honked. I was 17 miles ahead of them until then. The next berg is Whitewood, I think, another 17."


Yep, this is Whitewood's welcome - impressive garden under the flags of numerous countries within these gigantic rocks.

Wapella Boxer: At Wapella, in the late afternoon, I found a shady mowed area on a side street where I lay down on my fleecy and fell asleep instantly. Hot day.
When I awoke an hour later, I decided to go through the village to look for a TD bank so cycled down the first residential street.
Suddenly, a large male boxer came rushing at me from behind a bungalow. Gave me a good chance to try out the shrill whistle that Murray gave me for protection.
I stopped short, jumped to the ground as he reached me, whistled shrilly, and decapped the bearspray.
The boxer stopped short when I did, then advanced slowly.
A couple of ten year old girls came running.
Since I didnt want to traumatize them by having their dog screaming in pain, I just waited with the spray can pointed at the dog. One of the girls pulled the dog away saying 'Be nice, Basil. Be nice.'
The way I look at it, a boxer hanging onto yer butt could be a real pain!

Isn't it great when you've cycled and cycled your little heart out on the southern prairies, you're waiting for your first glimpse of the next town, and then you top the next hill to see ahead of you the grain elevator towering high above the town in front of you.
It can't be more than a mile away.
Right?
Wrong!
It's four, five, six, or maybe even still another 10 miles (not kilometres) down the highway.
Man! It's simply not fair.

One thing I meant to mention is that years ago I used to watch PBS lectures by Leo Bascallia.
He suggested then that you smile, talk to people, join them when you can.
When I first got to Moosimin to a restaurant, an older gentleman (81) just getting out of his car had a few nice words to say, and I followed him into the inn.
A few minutes later, I notice he was sitting by himself, so I asked him if he would like company. Bill said yes. His wife had died of cancer only 3 months earlier, and we chatted all through the meal. When he was younger, he used to farm in Wapella. Now his son has the farm.

Outside afterward, at my bike , before the storm chase, I met Maxime and her daughter, Emily. Maxime mentioned that they both knew Bill, and had both lost their husbands, also, to cancer. Maxime's husband had died only a month ago. Both men were formerly farmers, too.
Emily's brother, Maxime's son, was also dying of cancer a few yrs. back. His wife bolted him into his room one day, and wouldn't open to door. Five days later he died. He had a sink in there from which he was able to get sips of water in the cup of his hand. Very sad story.
The wife didn't do jail time but died 2 yrs. later of bone cancer. Maxime says what goes around, comes around. So much cancer here although the brother and wife lived in Brandon, about l44 km away. So sad. Maxime now has his poodle.
It was a sad story, but I was so astounded by the number of cancer deaths in the area. Sure makes one wonder about the chemicals that farmers work with.
Wouldn't it be sweet if Bill and Maxime became close friends now.
As I was cycling later, I imagined Emily making the two of them a nice patio lunch, hamburger soup like Bill said his mother used to make, and BLT's.
Left late today. Had to dry out after the rain."

When I stopped for dinner, the weather was sunny and hot.
After dinner, I rode west a bit, back up the road towards a campground, and ran into rain. It soaked my clothes, of course, and I forgot about the 2 blankets on the top of my tent.
I turned around and went back to the motel - no room at that inn, nor the other 3 across the street. Remember, this is one of the 4 best tourist weeks of the summer, and anyone wanting a room stops at 4 pm to procure one.
The rain had stopped but the sky was black and streaky to the west very close.
Like a rabbit, I cycled to the east end of town thinking to go on to the next town 10 miles down the TransCanadaHwy.
There I realized I couldn't possibly outrun the storm so headed back west toward the campground. It was 3 km. away. I was so tired I couldn't go fast, but somehow I made it before the storm. The best camp so far. Private, and lovely, similar to an Ontario prov. park. Stone buildings made with the round colourful large stones such as Milt McRae used in Stony Lake for his castle. The fellow in the office said that Sask. storms often swirl around back and forth and often don't even reach you, and so far this one hadn't hit.
I was put in a spot a distance away from the office, but somehow managed, with prayer and extra effort, to get the tent up, and all the stuff thrown inside before the thunder, rain, and lightning actually came. The storm had stayed just a few hundred feet to the west until I crawled in - snug as a bug, or more like a turtle in the safety of its own little shell.

to Virden, Manitoba

Aug. 6/08 Sask. Tourist Bureau across highway. They allow you to plug in your cell phone at a jack that is outside by the door. There's a picnic table there, although I spread out my blankey and lay down in the sun awhile for a complete rest.
Notice that I tie a large handkerchief to the bike's handlebars so I can wipe my forehead occasionally. Prairie sun is hot!
Panier is open for a bite of energy bar before I head out.

(K's cell phone message to daughters:)
"Border Crossing at l:02 pm.
Now I'm in Manitoba.
Whoops! It's 2:02 pm.
It must have taken me an hour to walk across the border.
I shud have biked instead."

Manitoba Tourist Bureau 10 km. further down the highway.

(For several days now, my cell phone has not seemed able to send messages, except for ones with only the subject typed in - no text.
I didn't expect this trip to be problem free, but... )
Two Comments from Viewers:
Anonymous said... Oh, no, your cell died!
Are you going to have it cremated? hahaha
Wow - you're in Manitoba!
I dropped by here at Lucas's today as T wanted to come visit, too. Lucas said, first thing, that you made it to Manitoba! Then I saw Pauline and she knew you were close to the border, too! She agreed that Ontario's pretty rough, so once you hit the border, that's a good spot to "pause" (not end) your trip for this time :)
Mr T's playing in the Toy Room.... and picking all your snap-dragons from the garden... heehee
August 8, 2008 10:39 AM Anonymous said... ha - took you an hour to cross! takes that long to get to the city of Central Time Zone heehee.

At the MB Tourist Centre, in the lady's washroom, I discovered a woman from Vancouver washing her green plastic clogs in the sink.
She said to me that her 3 dogs had been so anxious to get out for a break that they got out of the car before she was ready with the leash, and they had dashed off and into a swamp. Well, she had to chase them into the swamp to get them so she, her clogs, and her dogs were muddy. The dogs are Boston Terriers. She, and they, are on their way to Winnipeg to the Dog Show. The male cost $1500 n the female $2000.
I asked her if she had seen 'Best in Show', one my all time favourite movies and mostly Canadian actors. She had, and some of her friends were in it. It was made in Vanc., she said.

The dog I had while growing up was a Boston, and Bonnie was her name. I'm sure on my Dad's meagre salary as an airman in 1950 he paid no more than $20.00 - note placement of the decimal point.
Bonnie, like any bull terrier, had very strong jaws. She would grab my skipping rope (remember those?) and hold on while I would swing her around and around. She would be at least 1 to 2 feet above the ground, and I don't remember her ever being the one to let go first.
She taught me determination, I think, or was it tenacity?
Sure need both for a trip like this.

A few miles passed the border, in Manitoba, I will come upon an old car museum. Unfortunately for me, I get there after closing time. Love old cars. Grenfell had four beauties just off the highway. I had planned to go back in the morning light to take a picture, but forgot when morning came. I hate going 'back' at any time, and that is why I love this trip. Back in Prince Edward County, when I go out for the day on the trail, I felt I had to go back on the trail when I was practising for this trip, and hated that part. Little did I know that I would be doing highways or I would have cycled all the different county roads, which are so beautiful. Same 'old', though - houses, farms, lawns, crops and a bit of woods occasionally. People move to our county from Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal etc. so they can live in the country, and then they destroy it with monster houses and 3 acre lawns...lawns which are destroying life all over the world.

At Virden, I stayed at the Lion's Park. CPR trains run day and night, so all night was awoken by the sound of the train whistles for the various street crossings.
"Virden Lion's campground. shh! don't tell Mr. T."