I’d made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t drive at night in places outside of city centers. It was made after a stressful drive back from Sudbury to Grundy Lake when a black bear darted across the highway where I realized that my high beams don’t work, and was reminded that I still hadn’t gotten them fixed as I drove back from Brooks, AB and passed not one but three bulldozed pronghorns laying splayed on the side of the Trans Canada. It was a vow that kept repeating in my head like the blinking emergency lights of the white pick up pulled over on the side of the 22 to Pincher Creek, the red guts of a male elk splattered across the grill. The gut-spewer laying mangled a few meters up the road.
If there’s anything that makes the fear of being killed in a collision with a wild animal on a Honda Shadow 750 worth it, it’s the beauty of the southern foothills on a clear, summer night.
I spent the weekend of July 13 with my friend Dan, visiting his farmstead and taking a day trip to a local folk fest in Pincher Creek, organized by one of his friends he hadn’t seen in a while. I met Dan in Alert and we became fast friends, and had visited a few times while I was out in Medicine Hat as his partner was working nearby at Dinosaur Provincial Park and knew some other researchers working out of the Suffield NWA. The odds were such in our favour to become friends it seemed hard NOT to visit at least once while I was out here.
Dan adamantly declared he would be taking his bike, and that I was welcome to passenger but it was firm that he would not be taking ‘The Cowboy Trail'(hwy 22) on such a beautiful day in a car. I had never ridden on a motorcycle before, but I also thought it was completely unnecessary to have to bring two vehicles for just two people. It wasn’t until the morning of the trip that the environmentally-conscious side of my brain out-weighed the anxiety of being stuck on a motorcycle for 2 hours both ways, despite my churning stomach from the cider we drank the previous night. The echoes of my past triumph, “If I can climb an arctic mountain hungover, I can do anything,” bounced around my head as I hyped myself up. If anything, I’d just throw up and continue on.
Now, when you look at this picture of me, please know that it was the only gear Dan had available (aka his old biking gear) and the angle of the photo does not do me justice. Despite the hot weather, I was surprisingly cool in the get-up. You see, since it was all 3 sizes too big, the wind would puff up all the empty space and create an all natural cooling mechanism, though I am sure to any passerby, I looked like I was wearing one of those inflatable sumo wrestler costumes.
Highway 22 is called, ‘The Cowboy Trail’ and it is a breathtaking trip into the heart of Foothills county going through picturesque towns like Black Diamond (Diamond Valley now) that really play into the wild west history of the area, and passed the best of what Alberta rancher’s have to offer while the southern end of the Rockies stretch across the horizon.
As we pulled out of the small gravel road onto the highway and began accelerating, my heart began to race. I am kind of thankful that Dan doesn’t have one of those fancy mouthpiece radio systems that allows driver and passenger to talk to each other on the road, because all I would’ve had to say was, “THIS IS FUCKING SICK!” and try to keep my cool. After coming back from the Arctic, I am not as much of a speedster as having to drive 20 km/hr for 4 months makes speed limits seem much more reasonable, however, my favourite feeling is the feeling of accelerating. You, for a brief second, feel like you’re in Mad Max or some road rally.
The scenery was beautiful and Dan would, on occasion if we were stopped or going slow enough to yell over each others shoulder, point out his favourite bars or places to go in the small towns we rolled through. That previous Thursday we had wrapped up in Saskatchewan at one of the farms 5km away from the Manitoba border. So, in those 3 days, I had travelled across the plains of Saskatchewan, into the badlands of south-eastern Alberta to retrieve my car from Medicine Hat, blitz to Calgary, and bike through the foothills to the edge of the Rockies. The landscape of Canada continues to impress me as it morphs in the blink of an eye, and you see the variation of landscape even within one landscape (e.g., SAS-MB border has so many more trees and is infinitely more flat than the border of AB and SAS). I felt a little claustrophobic driving through the forested backroads outside of Calgary after so long in the vast openness of the prairies.
After lunch in Lundbreck at Oldman River Brewing, we finished the trek to the campground where Beaver Fever was being hosted and settled in for the music.
One of the headliners, John Wort Hannam, was one of the musicians Dan wanted to see, unfortunately, his set started at 8pm. I quite liked John and have now added him to my roster of Canadian folk/country singers playlist, just to boost my patriotism.
As we loaded back up on the bike, I had just put the helmet on when John walked in our direction (he had parked nearby), and Dan complimented him on the show. They started chatting and I slid the helmet back off. John looked at me and smiled, raising his fist for a fist bump and said, “Put ‘er there,”. I stared at it for a sec before sheepishly returning the bump. When John had departed, I looked at Dan and said, “That was really weird, do you think he thought I was like…a kid??” We were both silent for a beat.
“In that get-up? Probably,” Dan replied, sliding his own helmet on and turned the ignition.
The half-moon hung low over the mountains, an orange hue against the purples and blues of the fading sky. The wind had a nip as we sped back down The Cowboy Trail, it now being well passed 9pm, and the night was quickly spreading.
On the turn into Lundbreck was the truck I had mentioned at the start, and I realized how truly out in the open we were. I tried not to think about it and instead tried to enjoy the nighttime scenery as there was not a single cloud and the stars began to blanket the sky.
We were passing back through Black Diamond when Dan yelled, “That gas station was supposed to be open!’ referring to the dark gas station that had yet to be blessed by the concept of 24/7 card lock pumps. We filled up in Lundbreck just before going the last 10km to the campground, so despite the small tank size, Dan was confident we could at least make it to the next town to hopefully have better luck.
That was until the bike stalled in the middle of the highway and refused to turn back on, leaving us to roll to a conveniently placed shoulder turnaround. My legs and hips were killing me, it felt like the muscles had been stretched taught and refused to relax so despite the situation, being able to move around was a silver lining.
The bike would pull it’s stalling in the middle of the road stunt three more times before Dan made the executive decision to keep the fuel pump running while we rode and hope it lasted us to the nearest open gas station – the only one open in a 70km radius being in Okotoks 20km away. Thankfully, it being 11pm and most people being not as risky as us, the highway was pretty quiet for a motorcycle to crawl down.
I watched the estimated time of arrival tick down on google maps over Dan’s shoulder and took a breath of relief as the lights of the city of Okotoks came into view. Maybe in other circumstances I would’ve been a lot more anxious about the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t a cold night and I wasn’t by myself so if we did get stranded (which we didn’t), it wouldn’t be the end of the world. At the end of the day, or end of the night as we pulled into Dan’s driveway at 12am, it was all a funny memory.
With the bike full up and fuel pump on, we finished the last of the journey driving through the backroads of Okotoks county and seeing the far off lights of Calgary, mimicking the starry night sky above.
I bussed back to Calgary for the Calgary Folk Fest this weekend. I had originally bought tickets to see one of my favourite artists – Odie Leigh, perform but she didn’t play until the afternoon and gates opened at 9:30am so I wandered around the fest and listened to some really great artists I had never heard before.
There’s six stages at the Calgary Folk scattered around Prince Island Park – 2 of which are larger mainstages for the more well-known artists and the other 4 being reserved for smaller groups/musicians concerts and ‘workshops/sessions’ where multiple artists come together to improv with each other and take turns performing. You don’t need to buy tickets to enjoy the fest, as there is a free stage that hosted the best artists that I listened to (besides Odie) and you can still walk around outside the fenced areas to watch the other stages from afar.
Despite my promise to myself to save money on food as I brought some food with me and the hostel had a fridge, I couldn’t help myself when I walked through the plethora of food truck vendors. Throughout the day I had churros, gelato, sorbetto, a Bahn Mi steak sandwich, and multiple free samples of salted caramel pretzel clusters. Overall, it was a great day and even though I ended up going by myself, it was worth it having a self-date to rejuvenate the soul.
Some of my favourite songs from the artists I saw:
Alert-120 
Leave a comment