Pense, Again

Why walk to Pense? It’s not like there’s anything there. Well, that’s not true. One of my colleagues lives there, although I’m not sure exactly where his house is, and there’s a gas station where you can buy a Coke. But here’s the thing: I’m getting tired of walking in loops. I want to walk in a straight line once in a while. And the road to Pense is a straight line, with just one deviation, a dogleg where it crosses the main CPR line. So yesterday morning I set out for Pense. Two years ago I did the same walk, and I thought I knew what to expect.

Some of you are wondering where Pense is, or what it is. Pense is a village 30 kilometres west of the city across the flattest part of the Wascana Plains. They say it’s a great place to garden because the soil contains something special that makes plants grow. Maybe it’s traces of potash; there’s a big mine just down the road.

It was another hot day with a strong southeast wind that flung handfuls of dirt and pebbles at me. The gusts threatened to tear off my hat, despite its chinstrap, so I stopped and shoved it into the outside pocket of my backpack. I was wearing a Buff–a merino wool tube–around my neck to avoid sunburn, and I pulled it up over my head like a snood. So for the rest of the walk I found myself peering through the fluttering curtains of my makeshift niqab. I strode across the prairie like Lawrence of Arabia in shorts, my knees burning red despite liberal applications of sunscreen.

The heat and the wind wore me out. So did the blisters on the soles of my feet. They look like doughnuts now: an old blister in the middle, a fresh one around the outside. I started to feel nauseated from heat exhaustion even though I was drinking water and an electrolyte mixture. I was pretty well done in when Christine picked me up just north of the village. So I didn’t quite reach my goal. I really ought to try again another day, to make it all the way to the gas station and the cold Coke that’s waiting there, but it’s a hard walk, mentally: a long, straight, dull plod due west. Still, I hate to leave these things undone. The most important thing I took away from yesterday’s walk is the need to do something to prevent those blisters. Nothing I’ve tried so far has worked: it’s time to come up with something new.