Don’t believe Google when it tells you it’s only 70 kilometres to Moose Jaw. Maybe if you’re driving. If you’re walking on backroads, it’s more like 90. At least, that’s what it feels like. I’m as wiped as someone who’s walked 90 kilometres in three days can be. I have 160 kilometres left to go.
I’ve been in the hotel–the fancy one–for an hour, and I’ve already showered and shaved, done my laundry in the sink, put ointment on my chafed areas, and gone through my pack to separate out stuff I have no intention of carrying one more step. Not bad. I might even get in a nap before supper.
What a contrast to sleeping beside the river last night, without even the illusion of safety a tent provides. Just me, in my bivvy sack, under the full moon, listening to coyotes sing and dogs bark (at me, probably) and nameless rustlings in the bushes. It was cold, too, and sometimes I was shivering too hard for sleep, despite wearing all my clothes. But it was also exhilarating, being there with the other creatures under the night sky. Yes, they don’t use Gore-Tex or fuss about water, but perhaps we were in the same space in a similar way. Or at least I’m pretending we were.
I ran out of water quickly–I’d never been so thirsty–so at the first gas station I saw, just on the outskirts of Moose Jaw, I bought a litre of Gatorade and some water. That took care of that. It might be my imagination, or my thirst, but Gatorade isn’t as terrible as it used to be. Then breakfast at a Smitty’s, with coffee and more water. I sloshed down Main Street in the heat. Sloshed, or hobbled, given my blisters and chafing. Ouch.
A woman on the sidewalk asked me where I’d come from and was surprised at the answer. “Stay hydrated!” she said. Wise words. I’d called ahead about a room, because I thought a large smelly dirty man might get turned away by the desk clerk. When said desk clerk asked if I needed a parking pass, he could barely believe the answer.
Christine is coming to meet me for supper. It’ll take her just 45 minutes to drive here. That’s the freedom petroleum has given us. On the other hand, of course, using it has set the world on fire and choked the oceans with plastic. And we’re all hooked on the stuff. I mean, nobody wants to walk three days just to take the waters at the Moose Jaw Spa.
After supper, I’ll use the in-room Jacuzzi on my sore muscles. Then, first thing tomorrow, I’ll be headed south. On the shoulder of a highway this time. There are upsides and downsides to that, but at least I won’t get lost. If it gets too busy, I might detour onto grids, but I might not have the stamina for detours. We’ll see.
Maybe tomorrow, if I have the energy, I’ll explain why I’m making this walk. Now I think it’s nap time.
I was fearful when you told me you would be sleeping in the great outdoors…. very happy you are safe. This picture is lovely… wish I could read the sign! Be safe tomorrow….
It says “Keystone Pipeline.” I should’ve gone closer…..
Thanks for your comments on this. I can imagine – but would not like to emulate – your cold night on the open prairie. stay safe!
…ok, so you found water and a bonus Gatorade! Brilliant! I guess our discussion about sleeping bag vs liner concluded incorrectly. I recall we discussed that it might get colder at night out there than in a city. Unfortunately, we were right about that! Except for a bit of skin irritation you seem good to go. A good meal, cold beer and a bed will fix you up. And yes, empty the nice to have stuff from your pack and leave it behind! Have a good day tomorrow amigo!
Geoff
I’m savouring your posts, Ken. If this was easy everyone would be doing it. My sense is that you couldn’t not do it, despite battling some internal resistance. Aren’t those little graces a delight on these days – the gatorade, the room, the shower, Christine’s visit… One of the things that always happens for me on these walks is that i become more appreciative of things I too easily take for granted in ‘normal’ circumstances. May you rise refreshed.