THE EXPEDITION Chapter 18: Printing Presses, Pie, Pretty Great Music……..and Pikachu (Sec

In which the road to Carberry starts with three strong reactions to Ann's message 

Date: June 20 2019

Bry-Mar Campground to Carberry 33 km

The day to Carberry started fine. Actually, it was really special.

First, as we left the city behind us, a young man pulled over. He’d heard my interview, and he was in pieces. He’d known about the climate crisis, but hearing me, and his subsequent immediate research into the crisis and the lack of response had him in tears. We talked, and hugged, and cried, for quite a while. I gave him all the resources I could think of for information, people, the most useful books and groups I could think of that might help. Mostly, it was just beautiful to be able to share this huge piece of fear and pain, and help start turning that into something positive.

Not very long after that, Evan from the road crew pulled over. He’d been so affected by talking with me that he’d been talking with friends and co-workers, very seriously. They, especially he, all wanted to know more – what they could do, and look up, and learn about. I gave Evan much the same list, and didn’t think to wonder till now if they ever crossed paths, but it was really a gift to be able to see the ripples from a chance meeting on a bridge already spreading.

Two strangers, adults I didn’t know, were so moved by everything I was talking about that they found me on the highway and came to talk and cry and start to change and be part of change. That will always be one of the most special days ever for me.

Mr Myrtle and I stopped to wander through a willow grove and take more pictures of flowers and green things (and Mr Myrtle), and love the day and the place. It was warm and sunny and we had a little time, and human beings are good and as long as that is the case, there are possibilities.

Just as I was hopping on the scooter to get going again, in the middle of this nice quiet day and nice quiet piece of highway, all of a sudden a big old grimy Penske semi came into sight, stepped on the gas, and as he nearly sideswiped us, I could see a huge angry grin on his face. He leaned on his horn at the same time.

I have no idea if it was the same driver who nearly knocked us off the road back in Alberta, but it doesn’t matter. Some people are so afraid of truth they prefer violence, but we’re alright… maybe someday he will be.

I’m not sure who was more shaken, Mr Myrtle or myself, but after I checked him and the trailer to make sure they were alright, we sat back down a while to get our breath and our perspective back. I almost pitched our tent right there in the willow grove instead of going on. But I’d arranged a news interview in Carberry the next day, so I kept going.

It started raining long enough before we reached Carberry that my weatherifically challenged jacket gave up trying. Between that and the shock and the roller-coaster way the day had been, I was hurting and drained, and by the time I slogged into the Robin’s Nest motel on the highway at the turnoff to Carberry, I must’ve looked like Swamp Thing’s evicted roomie.

I babbled something that must have made a little sense, whatever it was, because the young couple who were clearly in charge sat Mr Myrtle and I down at a table. They brought Mr Myrtle water, and tea for me… then soup, a little bowl of really, really good home made vegetable soup… something else dinner-y, I forget what, nothing fancy, but I remember being surprised at how good it was. They took turns doing this, all this in between serving a crowd of locals and running a kitchen and checking in motel guests, quietly asking if we were alright and telling me to just sit and rest.

They must have explained their bedraggled guest to their regulars, because some had kind words or questions, and others donated enough to pay my bill and more.

When the rush calmed (and I had too, a little), the young man came to sit with me. We talked about what I was doing, and what had happened, and he offered me a couple nights for a very small price. The care and comfort were even more valuable… the warm food and people, dry room to solve wet things and self, and being believed in undid all the recent frazzling and hurting.

Date: June 21 2019 (the Summer Solstice!)

Carberry

The town of Carberry is a nice scooter ride down a decent road. There’s a lot of potato fields, and a lot of trees, so it’s a very green walk, especially after all that rain. It’s a pretty town, too, and like many, they’ve hung onto history and heritage, and a close sense of community.

The newspaper office is such a living symbol of this. The source of current practical and humanitarian information (small town papers sometimes seem a lot more ethical and aware than conglomerate industry publications (maybe that’s why so many are having their p[age count and budget slashed by their owning companies)) is an open-minded network of offices and people in a building older than most and filled with all the original and subsequent antique newspaper printing machinery and devices and items… all of it. This place is a museum, and a metaphor for our culture – built to last forever on land where it doesn’t belong, holding together a community of good people, filled with literal and symbolic records and machinations of ‘progress’.

Old brick and stone and wood and iron, holding together new ideas and people while the world changes.

There was a town fair while I was there. Something deeply sad and damaging had happened to someone in the community, and someone else had started a small local fundraiser to help. In a blink, that effort had become a full scale event with activities, all sorts of hand made goods and foods, a flea market, and I’m not even sure what else.

It did, however, include a few dozen deliciously pretty pies, baked overnight by the sweet young couple who owned the hotel. They stayed up the entire night before the fair, after closing up business and until they opened it again for the day, to make the pies and be sure all were absolutely fresh. Each one was unique and they were all – according to locals and to the piece I’d allowed myself in spite of the gluten – the yummiest thing for miles around. Honestly, if you’re anywhere near Carberry, go have pie at the Robin’s Nest… the pie and the people are special.

It did rain more while we were in Carberry, and Mr Myrtle lost another boot. I envision a network of mice across the country living happily in Mr Myrtle’s lost boots while wondering what the heck those nice pre-fab nests are and how they turned up. We were advised, and invited, to stay till things dried out the next day.

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