finds this hilarious?) mid-afternoon cycling in from Grassy Lake. The town's name was more than appropriate for the campground, where we pitched our tent on an island of pallets. Our purpose in 'the Hat' was to try and figure out how to detour around the lake that had become the Trans Canada Hwy, without going ridiculously far out of our way and without hitting any gravel roads (which would be muddy slop after all this rain). It was difficult to gather any solid info, and eventually we decided it would be better to stay in town for the night and hit the road bright and early in the morning.While hanging out by the library (because of course, that's where all the cool kids chill) I met a fellow named Scott who worked at the local collage and almost immediately offered up his backyard as a camp spot for us. We were stoked :) So we spend Father's Day chillaxing on Scott's shaded back deck, drinking Canadian, BBQing steak and potatoes, and conversing with a kind and laid back fellow. In my mind, being invited home by random strangers is one of the highlights of bike touring.
Next morning we started our alternate route up Hwy 41, then took and eastbound turn towards Richmound. There was no real excitement on the Albertan side of the border; slow rolling hills and grassy fields for miles and miles. We rode into a headwind for about 60km, so that was a bit tiring. Ran out of water, and couldn't find a farm house that wasn't less than a kilometer to ask for a refill of our bottles. We debated using our water cleaning pills on some of the swamp water, but in the end decided that the toxins they spray on the fields would probably be built up in the puddles and thus we kept moving, thirsty but with the border in sight.The second we crossed the Saskatchewan border, right on cue, the sky broke loose with thunder and lightning and more showers. Now I should say that we've had two days of really awesome weather, so the fact that it was raining again was not too bad. Except for the minor issue of 'what do you do when you see lightening strike while biking?'. Not the safest situation, to be sure. The official material all says useless info like 'get into you car' (we don't have a car) or 'go inside' (the houses are spaced about 5km apart). So we pedal forth into the storm, stopping in Richmound for a couple of burgers at the hotel. While socializing with the staff and patrons (everyone here is super friendly, offering us tools and advice and sharing their insights of their world with us), we had a chance to dry out and wait for the storm to blow over. Or so we thought. A few kilometers east it started to storm again, and really, what could we really do but laugh?
The countryside was totally gorgeous, even in the rain. Quick moving antelope spring along beside us in the fields, a couple of foxes watch us pass by, prairie dogs scuttle along beside our bike tires and hawks swoop down in front of us. Old wood farmhouses loom in the distant fields, their paint chipped and peeling. Abandoned and left to slowly deteriorate, or used as storage I imagine.So we cruised into Fox Valley around 6:00pm. We saw the giant grain elevators from waaaaaay off in the distance, but it seemed to take us forever to actually make our way into town. Our spirits were kind of low, since Dad's bike had started to make a most disturbing sound, and we realized that we would, yet again, be setting up our tent in the rain. Boo-urns :(
But, we had made it into Saskatchewan, even if it was through a big loopy detour route. And at least our homes weren't flooding, our livestock wasn't being washed away, and we weren't losing our crops and livelihood to this flood. So really, no biggie. Just a few more miles under our tires.
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