THE EXPEDITION Chapter 10 Things from Left Field (Section 3)

In which there is a death-defying bridge crossing 

May 13, 2019

From Webb to Swift Current 35 km

Going slow lets you pay attention. Sometimes I counted different sorts of birds, or trees, or what have you. This day, we saw the first living bee of the trip. All the others had been dead. He was so groggy and wobbly, though, it was awful and sad to see him struggling across the gravel towards the grass. I carefully lifted him closer to some early dandelions (I was afraid he’d fall off if I put him right on one), and we left him with prayers, and water in a shallow dish invented from a squashed pop can.

This was the day Lisa Bee quoted to me several months later, giving me back a piece of myself when I was mostly full of holes.

I wasn’t anywhere near that bad these days, but was actually hoping not to have to go all the way to Swift Current that day. I was trying to cooperate with my knee and not push it too much. My phone was being about as useful as doorstop on a bicycle but some of the friends in my online support group found a picnic site that might do as a place to camp, and there was a village called Beverly on the way as well. It didn’t seem likely, especially in light of Glen’s words, but you never know what’ll happen. Thinking there might be an earlier end to the day did make the day more manageable, though.

What happened was that the picnic spot was rather desolate. It was stuffed in among the trees in a larger than usual gap between halves of the divided highway, a loopy twisty cross between parking lot and a road, with vandalized tables tucked into nooks between trees, the whole business surrounded by more trees. It looked like one of those places where something goes horribly wrong in a scary movie. Even a couple friends who were able to zoom in on google felt that way, so we kept going.

Along the way, my friends kept looking ahead on the road for me. It seemed like Webb had been, in one friends words, “a booming metropolis compared to Beverly.” Sure enough. As we passed, I looked at the knot of houses called Beverly, waved at couple less than friendly looking people who were watching us walk by, and asked if someone online could please check about campgrounds and cheap places to eat in Swift Current.

By the time we were scooting along the service road into the city towards the promised Husky station for dinner, I was so zonked I felt like Gumby after falling in a garburator. I wobbled into the restaurant so utterly the opposite of inconspicuously that I promptly ended up in several very large conversations with all the staff between their duties, as well as the only other customer, a quiet and charming retired man who was as amazed at what I was doing as he was dumbfounded by the climate crisis. He asked permission to hug me, and did so very politely, before wishing us luck and a good night. His care and kindness did me even more good than being able to rest did.

The staff made an ice pack for my knee and kept refreshing it. They tucked us into a quiet spot near the kitchen where they could help and talk, and we could just rest a while. I had a really good veggie burger on gluten free bread with a great big fresh salad, and was happily amazed for the umpteenth time at being able to eat such things on the road, and at gas stations, no less. Mr Myrtle had his usual – a very runny sunnyside up egg. We shared fries (with no salt on his). They let us stay for ages while I nursed my knee, checked some messages, and talked myself into walking just the last little bit to the campground. It took a while.

Margo and Julie, the ladies walking ahead of me, often had helpful advice and certainly did this time. I and others had figured it made sense to stay at the campground on the far side of the city, so as to make leaving simpler. The one right in town looked awkward to get to, and out of, by our mode of transportation. The ladies had stayed at both places, though, and adamantly advised the opposite. The campground I was planning on had some serious dog-related concerns, among other things. Even if it hadn’t, though, the first campground was hands down the place to go. The man in the restaurant had also recommended that place, saying the man who ran it was as honest as the day is long, and a good man.

It’s easier to get there on foot than on a contraption. The road narrows and turns under a bridge, where all of a sudden there is zero place to walk and zero shoulder., just a lot of loose gravel on the edge of a skinny road between bridge-supporting walls, where all the large traffic wants to go. Thank goodness it’s immediately following an intersection, so that the dump truck who had no room to pass us was going slow enough that he could nearly stop, so we could get through and up the curb off the road without being turned into roadkill. It’s a toss-up as to who was more scared, me or the truck driver. I yelled an apology, and was so obviously lost and upset that he had the grace to not be angry, instead following slowly to keep more traffic from squashing us till we were quite safe.

They were absolutely right. I found Phil and introduced myself, namedropping Margo and Julie as well as the gentleman from the restaurant. I also namedropped the young couple I’d been talking to after the harrowing incident under the bridge. They’d been coming towards us and from their perspective a happy ending didn’t seem possible. They were afraid they’d have to be submitting witness reports soon, and were so relieved we got through that they came across to hug us and talk.

It turns out they knew of us already, having passed by someone I’d crossed paths with. Their own journey was called Tofino To Fife, and they were raising funds for good purposes close to their hearts and families. A multi-continental family, their itinerary included a lot of meaningful decisions, and a lot of distance. First they came from Scotland. Now, they were bicycling across Canada, with a forty day time limit and return tickets waiting. Then, they’d had to switch rowing for flying due to practical reasons, but would nonetheless return to Scotland, where they’d run their own personal marathon across that country. I think there was a swim involved, maybe at the beginning and end, or maybe not. At any rate, it was a seriously impressive trip, for heartfelt reasons, and they were such a sweet couple. They were staying at the same campground and pointed me up the road and told me where to find Phil.

We visited and talked more that evening, though we all turned in pretty early.

May 14, 2019 Swift Current

In the morning, we wished each other well and they zoomed off. I had to wash my clothes and hang them to dry, then go find a bank way off in one direction, and knee braces way off in the other direction, and check a bike shop that wasn’t really between those (and which turned out to be closed). As long as I was in a place where it was possible, I should also replenish my stash of superhealthy, carryable, no-cooking-required road food, and some good kibble for Mr Myrtle Sir. I also wanted to print a hard copy of the petition – I had wanted to keep it electronic, to avoid using paper, but so many people couldn’t sign that way. I decided I’d only print a page or two at a time.

I did too much that day, because I didn’t want to stay an extra day. Physically, I managed alright, but I got too frazzled. It had been close to a month since I’d had to trip around in a city; in Medicine Hat, I hadn’t gone out and about much alone or on the scooter. I was used to keeping company with trees and wind. I got back to the campground and packed up the dry laundry, and resorted the gear again. Then I spent a bit of time with Phil, and with Robin, who worked there with him.

Even without my fine references, I’m quite sure Phil and I would have gotten along just peachy. He’s full of stories and jokes, and always ready to listen to more. He’s a sweet man who doesn’t like how complicated the world has gotten and how sloppy and disrespectful humans have become. He’s not too impressed with our government or the whole system, either, same as so very very many people already along the way and oodles more to come. Robin is a good, real, no nonsense person too, and it was so nice to settle down a bit with them both. We certainly talked about the climate crisis, about politics and people and frustration. We also just plain had a break, and that was lovely.

Phil was concerned about the first bit leaving the city. Apparently stuff happened around there, and if even Phil didn’t want to talk about what, then it’s safe to say I didn’t want to hear details. I assured him I had a cell phone on me at all times, and and air horn, and bear spray. Also wasp spray, because it reaches eighteen feet or something like that. And a crazy loud whistle. Also a flare gun and bear bangers. Besides, not many folks get their hackles up about a flaky old lady on a scooter with a puppy.

I was more concerned about getting from the campground to the edge of town. There was no way I was going back under that bridge, so I’d have to go a very long way around. Perusing the map while I waited for Phil for advice, I realized that whatever we went, we’d go right past where I’d gotten the knee braces, which made me roll my eyeballs a little, but it was best to be able to leave without stopping, and nice to be slightly familiar with the way.

I decided to ask Phil for a lift to the edge of town. It was only a few minutes that way, but a long enough walk any other way that it might be hard to reach the next stop before dark. I didn’t want to be on the road at night. Too many easily avoidable problems waiting to happen.

May 15 a.m. , Leaving Swift Current

We got everything into the back of Phil’s truck and grabbed breakfast at A&W on the way. A&W was often really good to us, giving Mr Myrtle plain little egg patties and lots of attention, and often donating my meal as well. It’s still fast food, but they’ve had healthier practices than others for quite some time and are doing even more recently in light of the climate crisis. They’ve always used cows and eggs from relatively better sources and were one of the first to offer vegetarian burgers. They use metal, compostable, and otherwise relatively eco-friendly serving stuff and packaging. Also, they generally like dogs there.

After breakfast I was all for unpacking our things from Phil’s truck and reconstructing our caravan, but he said this wasn’t a good place for Mr Myrtle and I to get back on the highway. I forget if there was construction, or what, but it was a very valid reason that wouldn’t have worked out well on a scooter. We passed that though, and Phil looked a little guilty.

“You’re still worrying about us getting through that area you were talking about, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Well, um, yeah… Yeah, I am… I hope you don’t mind, I just can’t let you walk through that bit. I won’t take you any farther than that though, I promise, I understand you need to walk, but please let me worry and just drop you a little bit farther out?”

He was being so good to us I could hardly be annoyed. How dear of him to go out of his way so early in the morning to keep us safe. If I didn’t agree, I was pretty sure he’d spend half his day trying to unobtrusively follow us to make sure we really were all right, and if I didn’t notice, he’d probably make the highway patrol folks think he was a stalker or something, and get arrested, and have his truck towed – he didn’t say any of that, but I was pretty sure he’d worry too much not to follow, and my imagination went from there. He’s such a truly nice guy. When we got Sam out of the truck and back on her wheels, and the trailer hitched and loaded, we traded phone numbers and hugs, and he sent me off with good ideas about where to eat and camp in some of the upcoming towns where he’d lived for many years.

#WalktoWakentheNationexpeditionbook