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.