Sask ’26

Of the many reasons that I’ve had to “go home” over the years, a diabetes fundraiser was never even on my radar. Until my niece Erin’s young son Blake became one of the many children in Canada to develop the nasty disease.

The annual fundraiser walk for diabetes happens in Saskatchewan early in June. This year’s date, June 6, coincides with the Vernon Gardens Show and Craig’s garden is on this year’s tour. We defer to next year, book a cat-sitter, pack the car, clip Chichi into the back seat and head east. This year the walk feels more important than showing off the garden.

First stop: Calgary. Home of Shelley & Jim, their kids & spouses and pets. Our Calgary B&B hosts and dear old friends.

In weather that is being called a “prairie heatwave” we seek out shady dog parks, preferably river-side. It’s not actually that uncomfortable, certainly not compared to a 40 degree Okanagan heat dome. But, for Calgary, at the end of May, it is unseasonably hot.

When not in a dog park (Sue Higgins Memorial Park in SE Calgary a gem!), or having drinks in Shelley & Jim’s back yard, or chowing down a scrumptious barbecue dinner at their dining table, we dog-walk around the neighbourhood,  an area of SW Calgary called Richmond, close to Marda Loop. We marvel at the tall, narrow, graceful, three story homes on skinny lots that have almost entirely replaced the once ubiquitous bungalows. These new dwellings are all unique but of a very modern slant. Lots of black & white. Wood as an accent. We wonder: where did all that vinyl siding go?

Next stop: Saskatoon, routing through Drumheller, where we find an assortment of both fake & real dinosaurs. Most of the drive is rather dull & boring, flat prairie, mostly still unseeded and brown, last year’s stubble indicative of a practice called “regenerative farming”. Summer fallow now out of agricultural fashion. “Leave the land as it is” the new credo.

The drive from Calgary to Saskatoon normally takes 6 – 7 hours. Not bad, we think, not calculating into the equation the time spent with Chichi in various prairie dog parks. It’s a 9 hour trip for us. We see some sad dog parks. No other dogs. No trees or bushes. Small. Not really worth going out of our way for, but if you don’t go you don’t know.

Craig & I both attended U of S in the 70s and called Saskatoon home for several years. So it should feel more familiar than it does. We drive by former addresses, places we lived, bars we frequented. Swap a few stories of our 20 something shenanigans. We wonder: did it all really happen?

Bunking in with Craig’s youngest brother Brent and his wife Heather, their doodles Abbey & Ellie and their daughter’s 4 month old Lab puppy Penny is a bit chaotic. Chichi tries to get along with the other dogs as best she can. But her drive to protect us kicks in whenever one of them approaches us. Honestly didn’t think she could be that snarly.

Craig turns 70 on June 1 and there is a family party in Brent & Heather’s back yard. Lots of “way to go Craig… you made it” sentiments expressed.

We have breakfast at the Berry Barn, shop at a funky plant & outdoor decor store, dine at a Mexican restaurant, and dog walk along a green easement between the neighbourhood and the freeway. It’s a short 5 minute walk away and becomes our go-to for off-leash.

Saskatoon couldn’t look greener. Plenty of snow and then plenty of rain have been a boon for the flora. For the mosquitoes too. And the ticks. The downside of a wet spring on the prairie.

As if driving a thousand kilometers to get here weren’t enough, we take a day trip northeast of Saskatoon, through Rosthern, to Batoche, a National Historic Site. The site of a Metis settlement along the banks of the Saskatchewan River in the late 1800s, it was also the de facto capital of Louis Riel’s Provisional Government of Saskatchewan.

The Battle of Batoche – one of several occurring during the North-West Rebellion of 1885 – resulted in the defeat of Riel, Gabriel Dumont, and their Métis forces. Dumont fled to Montana. Riel was executed in Regina. Long martyred by his own people, it is only recently that Louis Riel has been crowned a hero by the rest of us. Maybe not a winner, but a hero nevertheless.

Next stop: Melville. We have plenty of time to get there so we take a longer route, through Watrous, home of Canada’s “dead sea”, Lake Manitou. The lake’s high salinity is said to enable even the least accomplished swimmer to float. Of course it is still too cold for us to take a plunge and test that claim. Instead we walk along the shore with Chichi. Then stop in at a whimsical art shop. Then back on the highway heading to Kamsack, a small town close to the eastern border with Manitoba.

We have a 4 PM rendezvous planned with my sister Judy & her husband Jake, at the Kamsack cemetery. Here we remember our ancestors. As well as many old family friends. We wander around the headstones, saying their names, recalling a story or two and talking about how they died. It sounds morbid, but for me it is comforting to know that I was spawned of a larger community.

The cemetery trips are part of a tradition we started after my father died; Judy & I would take our mom. And even though she too is now gone, the tradition still matters to my sister and I. The cemetery trips are an opportunity to go back in time. To retell old stories.

A short half hour drive away, the Runnymede cemetery is full of ancestors too. An oddly high number of babies and young children. I’m reminded that a little hamlet like Runnymede would not have had much in the way of medical care back when these wee ones died.

 In Rhein we visit a “graveyard” rather than a cemetery. Apparently if the graves are in a church yard, they are in a graveyard. If they are at a separate location from the church they are in a cemetery. Who knew?!

Here we pay homage to more kin. Russlanders, German nationals farming on the west side of the Volga River in Russia in the 19th century. Come to Canada to make a freer and better life. And boy did they ever!! The land around Rhein is black and loamy and rich and plentiful and flat. Not that they had it easy, but they had it easier than those who landed in less fertile places. And they worked hard. That goes without saying.

Over dinner in Yorkton we reminisce about our childhoods. Running free on our uncles’ farms. Walking on the railway tracks. Weddings & anniversary parties with our large extended families, in small town halls, with local musicians, open bars. Learning to do the polka and country two-step. Learning to sneak a swallow of whiskey. Crushes on our cute, older cousins. Or their friends. Swimming lessons in nearby Madge Lake.

We get to Melville just as the sun is setting. I lived here for 7 yrs, graduated high school here. Because Judy & Jake live here, it’s a town I return to often. I met Craig here in Melville. It’s not exactly “home” for me but it is as close as it comes.

We make two forays down into the Qu’appelle Valley, to Crooked Lake, where Craig’s family has a cottage. More lush green scenery. More mosquitoes and ticks. West Nile virus and Lyme disease on our minds, we spray DEET, do frequent inspections, kill several ticks, mostly on Chichi.

The diabetes walk day dawns cloudy with rain in the forecast. The walk venue has an indoor track for those not wanting to get wet. The rest of us follow team Blake out the door and into the elements. Chichi in tow. At a distance of 2 kms, on the almost completely flat streets, the walk is a pleasant stroll around the town. We walk with family we’ve not seen in a while, my sister’s sister-in-law Ann & her granddaughter Lila. Catch up on each others’ lives. Close the day with dinner at Judy & Jake’s.

The next morning we say goodbye to family and to Saskatchewan. Head back west with strong feelings of gratitude for growing up in southeastern Saskatchewan, in farming communities, in the ‘50s & 60s. A simpler, freer, richer, deeper way to live, closer to the land, closer to family. Closer, even, to God.

And although time and people have moved on, so much is unchanged. So much is familiar.

And no matter how far I wander, my ancestral home will always be here in Saskatchewan. I’m thankful that my sister and her family keep the home fires burning. The back porch light on. A welcome that I never take for granted.

We end the trip with a few nights in downtown Edmonton. Hold the groans. Apart from the weather, which was truly horrendous. Apart from the mosquitoes, which were truly multitudinous. Apart from the larger-than-what-you’d-expect number of homeless people. And apart from how far the drive home is from here, we enjoy our time in Edmonton.

Our dog-friendly Holiday Inn is just south of Jasper Avenue, right in the centre of what appears to be a crisis of homelessness, drug abuse & mental illness. I see all three on the street just a block from the hotel.

We spend mornings in dog parks, of which there are many in Edmonton, generally beautiful and large. We find that spraying DEET on thick and also using a DEET spray can as a weapon is the only way to spend too much time in these parks, they being lush and green and perfect breeding grounds for hordes of both mosquitoes and no-see-ems.

But we are not here in Edmonton for the dog parks, nor the mosquitoes, nor the Muttart (which we tour and give a “meh” rating) nor the Art Gallery (save money, don’t go). We are here for a very prairie musical experience: The Guess Who reunited for a night at Roger’s Place. For both of us it is a trip down memory lane.

Burton Cummings is almost 80 and Randy Backman is older. Randy sits for the entirety of their time on stage, whereas Cummings bounces around like the teen he was in the ’60s. Plays several instruments. Hits the high notes of his vast repertoire. Voice strong to the second encore. Bravo we say as we leave the arena.

It’s well after 10 PM, but not yet dark, reminding us that we are far north and closing in on the Summer Solstice. Makes for some interesting pics.