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August 11 Thursday Bicycle touring from Provost Alberta - Wilkie Saskatchewan In Unity, Saskatchewan, we phone Tim's (an old roommate of mine before Sharon and I were married) mom and dad and agree to meet them at their place later. We buy grapes, buns, vegetable bread, Italian tomato soup, ham, turkey, tomato and cucumber then cycle over to the park. A group of kids are at the park, having a wiener barbecue wind-up for the summer park's program. We talk to Keith from the Parks and Recreation Department. He tells the women in charge to make sure we got a hot dog. Or two. Filled to the brim, we hop on our bikes and cycle over to the Yochims and chat for four hours, catching up on past and present family news. They send us on our way with new spuds and carrots from their garden. I buy a postcard from one of the downtown businesses and fire it off to Tim and his wife Bernie in Vancouver. Pedalling down the road, we arrive in Wilkie hot and sweaty and on the lookout for a pool with a shower. We get directions to the pool from a farmer and his wife. The husband is in his truck, waiting for his wife to come out of the house when I pull over to ask him for directions. His wife appears and the couple talks to Sharon and me like we known each other for years. They have ten kids. Before we depart we are told what each of the kids do for a living: from teachers to chartered accountants to farmers. After our shower, we discover the camp in town wants money, so we head down the road for Landis, thirty-two kilometres away. We're pedalling along nicely when it begins to get dark. We notice a grain elevator in the distance -- that's one thing about being in Saskatchewan: one is never more than a stone's throw from a grain elevator. Suddenly, a police cruiser pulls in behind us and follows us at our slow pace for a couple of kilometres. Rather disconcerting. I wonder if they're wondering where we are going at this time of day without any lights. We pull off the road to head onto the side road to the grain elevator. Some folks are standing in their yard in front of a big old farmhouse. I give them a big wave. The police car turns around in the driveway and heads back towards Wilkie. We pedal towards to the grain elevator. Just as we approach the elevator a pickup pulls alongside us and stops. The woman asks, "Where are you going?" "Quebec," I say. "Why did you turn there then?" she demands to know, in an unfriendly tone. "You mean I'm lost again?" I say. She has a long scowl on her face. "You should have stayed back in Wilkie," she growls. Her husband comes to our rescue, piping up, "Would you folks like to camp in our yard for the night?" This does not improve his wife's demeanor. Of course I accept. This produces a very dark scowl from the woman. We follow them back to their yard where we talk to him and their son for a couple of minutes. Then they excuse themselves, saying they were just on their way to visit a neighbour. We set up and hit the hay. |
