Storyline: Westward Ho!
Fri, Jun 9 – Sun, Jun 11
To get ahead of the severe thunderstorms forecast for Saskatchewan we left the eerie Grasslands a day earlier. The last city of a province full of wonders, espressos, straight yet wavy roads, and museums at every corner was Swift Current.
Perhaps we could overnight there. But then it was so close to our next stop at Gas City, Medicine Hat campground that it made sense if we could extend our stay with a night there instead. We still hadn’t fixed the griddle and perhaps chances in a bigger city are better.
Called the campground. They had our spot available for Friday. In a hindsight we would have been much better in the pretty little town Swift Current on a Friday night. But for this later.
Swift Current is halfway between The Grasslands and Medicine Hat. It is home to Saskatchewan’s oldest operating theatre. We decided to have lunch there.
Parked on a one-way street just in front of a restaurant I had already jotted as an option. Akropol, a Greek family restaurant. Entering it one could immediately sense the family atmosphere. The grandma ran the restaurant and the granddaughter greeted us at the door. She also takes the bills. The son was our waiter. We didn’t think of taking photos, but the Greek themed food was really good.
We’d have coffee at the café a few doors along, just for the experience.
Swift Current is on the TransCanada Highway. The typical grain elevators, some of which were huge, the ploughed hills, bales, farm structures, lots of cattle, and tons of salt lakes. We don’t know what kind of salt it was.
Was it potash, calcium or something else? We spotted many lone antelopes, but it was hard to take a photo with the speed on the highway.
Approaching the Alberta border the scenery changed. More hills ahead, but covered with smoke. Although the wildfires that have been ravaging this province for a long time (long before we left for this trip) are mostly under control, many are still burning and the smoke was everywhere.
We stopped for the usual photo with the provincial welcome sign. One can see the haze over the hills ahead. Leaving the hotel at Moose Jaw a guy approached us and told us about the cheap gas, immediately after crossing the Alberta border. Did I say the Saskatchewanians are very friendly people? We did see the gas station, but had enough gas and Alex thought it was one of the fringe gas stations so we passed on it.
Reached Gas City campground around 4pm. Lovely spot, backing onto a ravine with a trail behind us. Nice breeze and shade from the trees around us. For the first time since we’ve been on the road, the temperatures were moderate with no rain in the forecast. Finally, we set our rug and chairs outside. There were a few tasks on the list. First see if we could fix the griddle, then wash Doranya from the accumulated road dust and the tarry stones gathered way back when we drove to the Grasslands; then find a liquor store to replenish our wine stock. The rumours were that wine in Alberta is cheap. We’ll later find out that it wasn’t quite the case and Alberta doesn’t produce wine, so it is either from Ontario or BC. Alex will eventually find some cheap BC wine in the coming days, but not in Medicine Hat.
And so we set the table and Alex pulled out the griddle, preparing it for complete check of the hoses and trying to diagnose it (if I had thought that prayer would have worked, I would have been sorely tempted to try it – A). Once connected though, everything was just fine. It was working. I still think it was too hot when it stopped working back in the Indian Head campground. Or something else. We’d never know, but it seems it had a character. Didn’t like the winds in Newfoundland last year, didn’t like the heat in SK. But works in a moderate climate elsewhere.
Next morning a strange white car was parked in front of us. This was rude, but they didn’t seem to care. Last night after we had settled a huge travel trailer rolled into the site across from us. A local family with 3 kids. The young ladies from the white car told us they’d just unload the groceries. So they did and then parked at the visitor’s centre for a while. Until the afternoon when more loads were delivered and they seemed to like our spot, instead of parking next to their friends. At a certain point of time, I had to tell them in a polite manner to leave our campsite. They were not happy. Later, while we were sitting outside trying to enjoy the campground that everyone had recommended, they parked and blocked us again. They even made nasty comments about me wondering why were they at our spot. I guess our van is small and doesn’t fill the campsite, so they thought they were entitled to the space in front. Besides they were locals and we were from Ontario. Didn’t know their sentiment, but many rural Albertans don’t like Ontarians.
Later on Saturday evening the people with the kids would have a big party. That’s what all the deliveries were for. The white car of their friends did not move from our spot until after the party. Sunday morning the family with the kids left too, and we could finally enjoy a quiet afternoon at our nice campsite. As I often say, a campground is a personal experience at a point of time. Unfortunately, a bunch of entitled locals ruined the experience for us.
In the meanwhile, on Saturday morning, while I was reading outside Alex found a big truck wash station nearby and finally got rid off the tar and grit (well, most of it. Tar is quite tenacious – A) on Doranya. He also bought a few Ontario wines from the nearby liquor store and said the price was similar to Ontario’s.
We walked on some of the trails among the coulees, saw some hoodoos in the distance and on Sunday did our laundry.
Monday morning we’d drive through the town. There was noticeable poverty at the center. We parked Doranya near a café and walked around. Ended up having a breakfast with cappuccinos in another café, chatted with the young lady at the counter, on summer break from her studies at Lethbridge University. Although born in this city she couldn’t tell us much about it. Either she was shy or there was nothing to tell.
Later when we were to depart a man not much younger than us stopped for a chat. He was originally from Ontario. His kids are still there, but he moved to this really nice city. His words, not ours. Perhaps we didn’t drive through the residential areas, but we didn’t have much time to waste. Dinosaur Park was calling us.
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