Tag: Carlton Trail

Carlton Trail Walk, Day Two

This morning, Hugh handed out buttons bearing the Cree word Louise Halfe, one of the 14 people walking to Fort Carlton, suggested as the theme for our walk: asohtêwak, “together the hearts walk.” It’s a lovely statement about the possibility of deep connection that can be created when we walk together, literally or metaphorically. Cree is beautiful like that: words have stories, embedded etymological meanings, beyond the dictionary definitions. Every morning Louise says a prayer in Cree, and I love the sound of the language, so soft and rhythmic. I can pick out the occasional word, which after two years of learning the language is either not bad or terrible.

There are three kinds of roads in Saskatchewan: paved, gravel, and dirt. Dirt is the softest on a walker’s feet, and as long as it hasn’t rained recently, it’s the best walking surface. (It hasn’t rained around here for months.) For a few miles today we had the pleasure of walking on dirt roads. Someone had planted along row of potatoes along the side of one of them. I guess the Rural Municipality doesn’t mind.

Harold went to Mass in Bruno this morning. “I’ll catch up,” he said. Everyone thought he meant that he would drive. But when he left, I noticed that he was carrying his pack. Sure enough, when we were finishing lunch, we spotted a lone figure walking quickly down the road towards us. It was Harold. “I know the average person walks at three miles an hour,” he said, “so I was trying for four. I don’t think I quite made it.”

By the way, Harold is 83.

Later we thought we saw a large Gumby in the distance. It was this sculpture. A border collie came out to greet us–that rare creature, a friendly farm dog. I offered him a Milk Bone. He was reluctant to take it; maybe it was stale. To be polite, I think, he finally accepted it. But he refused to be photographed.

We passed memorials for two schools this afternoon. Rural depopulation has been happening here since the 1930s. Farms get bigger as the economy of farming changes, and when people sell up they move away. It’s a global phenomenon. We also passed a large glacial erratic–a buffalo rubbing stone. I left some tobacco with it. The roadsides were filled with wildflowers: roses, blanket flower, asters, goldenrod, sage.

Later in the afternoon, I took a turn driving one of the support vehicles for a couple of miles. Then I kept walking. My feet are blistered and sore, but I sang to myself to keep up my spirits. When I sang “The Old Gray Mare,” Madonna thought I was talking about her. “Well, if the horseshoe fits,” I answered.

Speaking of Madonna: since Matthew, who had the idea for these walks back in 2014, can’t be with us this year, she suggested her stuffed prairie dog might represent him. Here it (he?) is, tied to her walking pole. So, Matthew, you aren’t here physically, but you are here in spirit–and in effigy.

Carlton Trail Walk, Day One

The day started off cold and windy, and the people who came out to see us off at Original Humboldt (the site of a nineteenth-century telegraph station that became a small settlement) felt sorry for us. “Oh, it’s too cold to walk,” one woman said. “They’ll freeze.” I was glad I had packed a winter hat. Then the sun came out, and even though the wind stayed cool, when we stopped for lunch in the lee of some aspen trees, it was quite warm.

A group of 15 or so of us are walking from Humboldt to Fort Carlton along the path of the old Carlton Trail, which ran from Fort Garry to Fort Edmonton. Not on the actual trail: it’s been covered over by girls of barley and canola, although part of the original trail–the wagon ruts–are apparently visible at Batoche. No, we’re walking on grid roads roughly parallel to the Trail. It’s the third trail walk the Saskatchewan History and Folklore Society has sponsored. The first was a walk along the North West Mounted Police Trail, from Wood Mountain Post to Fort Walsh, in 2015; the second was the Battleford Trail Walk, from Swift Current to Fort Battleford, in 2017. Hugh Henry, an artist and historian from Swift Current, organized or, as I prefer to say, curated all three walks, along with last summer’s walk along the Frenchmen’s Trail, from Mortlach to Gravelbourg. The point of these walks, Hugh says, is to give participants a chance to connect with themselves, other walkers, and the landscape. And I would think, to connect with the multiple histories of this space.

Today we trudged along grid roads: six miles west, four miles north, past fields and sloughs churned into white caps by the wind, with a stop for lunch in the grove of aspens. That took us to the edge of the hamlet of Carmel, where our party divided into two groups: those who were willing to walk four miles more, and those who preferred to get first dibs on the camping spots in Bruno, where we’re staying tonight. I kept walking, but my feet are sore and I’m wondering if the other group made the better choice. But the roadside ditches were filled with asters and goldenrod and wild roses, and although the wind was in our faces most of the day, the sky was beautiful.

A few of us decided to help out the local economy by eating at the Bruno Hotel. (Also there’s cold beer.) The others are cooking for themselves, which might’ve been a better decision, but I don’t feel like ramen noodles. We’ll see what the chow mein here is like. (It’s excellent.)

The overnight low will be four degrees tonight. Think of us as we shiver together, wearing all the clothes we’ve brought and hoping the wind doesn’t carry our tents away.