Its all about the weather

I am getting used to the sound of rain pummelling the roof of the Jamboree. I use “pummelling” purposefully, rather than the otherwise expected, and cozier, "pattering", because it much more accurately describes how it sounds from inside when it is raining. The drops throw themselves full force at the Jamboree, as if it's my fault that they have to land on such a hard, unnatural surface rather than the preferred grass below.

It started raining sometime during our four-day stay in the Qu'Appelle Valley. While I managed to find dry spots during the days to stretch Betty's wheels and my legs around the lake, I didn't mind too much, as I had the company of my brother and his friend to cook and drink wine in the rain with. Jacob's company was, as usual, a welcome combination of thoughtful and fun, and I am always grateful when I spend time with him that he's my brother. Thanks, Jacob, for helping me to appreciate Saskatchewan.

We drove to Saskatoon in the rain. At least when driving in the rain I don't feel too bad about missing out on a good sunny day where I could otherwise be cycling or hiking or hanging out by a lake. This drive took us through some small Saskatchewan towns and the ever rolling hills of wheat and canola and mosquitoes.

The little towns in Saskatchewan are always amusing. One town sat along a small but busy highway, made us all slow down from 100 kms/hr to 60 kms/hr to pass 4 deserted looking buildings, and then carry on again. This must be where the term “blink and you'll miss it” originates. Most towns have local gas stations standing bravely in the face of international giants like Shell. They all have quaint little cafes and bakeries, and we stopped in a few to refuel on caffeine and notice the variety of people who populate them. Its not all natives and farmers, as one might think.

We stopped in one of these little towns about an hour before arriving in Saskatoon because we saw a building on the side of the highway claiming to be “Amy's Bakery” offering “fresh coffee all day”. I'm not sure if we wanted the caffeine or simply an opportunity to stop and stretch our legs from the long day watching fields go by in the rain, but we pulled in for both. I usually have to look a little harder than the driver of a car to find a place to park the Jamboree, but in this little town, a right turn off the highway offered a prime spot along the side of the wide road across from Amy's bakery. There was a little red building in front of where we parked announcing in big, bold, white calligraphy “From Soup to Nuts”. Jacob and I looked at it, looked at each other, and then fell into one of those fits of ridiculous laughter that lasted for several minutes, made my side ache, and wet my face with tears. You know that kind of laughing: it grips you, you can't stop, and it releases of all the kinks that have been building up inside and resetting them to go again. It still makes me laugh as I write it here. When we collected ourselves, we went into the bakery to buy our tea from Amy who, it turned out, was a woman from Vietnam who spoke only enough English, it seemed, to sell her coffee and baked goods, and I found myself wondering how she got to this little podunk town in the middle of Saskatchewan. I didn't ask her, though.

We stayed in Saskatoon at the Gordon Howe campsite. I don't need to explain who Gordie Howe is to any card-carrying Canadian, but for those of you who aren't, he's a hockey legend who played it big in the good old days of the NHL and came from one of those podunk little Saskatchewan towns not far from Saskatoon. The manager of the campsite was also named Gordon but appeared to be no more of a hockey player than any other Canadian guy, and who worked behind the counter with a dog the size of his fist sitting on his shoulder as if he was hoping it were a parrot instead.

It rained all weekend for us in Saskatoon, too. Despite it being a good opportunity to wear my colourful Dutch wellies, which I actually quite like and apparently everyone else does, too, as I get reams of compliments on them wherever I go in them, it also offered us a good excuse to sit inside our aunt's house and car and visit with her and our cousin. Although a walk along the Saskatchewan river, which originates on the Columbia glacier I walked on two weeks ago in Alberta, would have been nice, it wasn't necessary as we'd been there before. Thanks Auntie Lucille for a long-overdue visit; it was wonderful to see you and Daniel again. xo

Yesterday was the day the sun came out; it was the day on which I would have had to return to school if I hadn't taken this year off; it was the day that Jacob flew back to Calgary and, for the first time, I was on my own in the Jamboree and will be for a while now. I left Saskatoon after lunch and drove north to the Prince Albert National Park. Not an exceptionally long drive, a couple of hours, but, again, a surprising one for Saskatchewan.

There's a gigantic forest up here, people! In Saskatchewan! Saskatchewan is home of wheat fields and boreal forests, teeming with tall conifer trees, lakes, black bears and elk, apparently. How utterly unlike the Saskatchewan we all know and make fun of.

I'm camped in the park, named after late Queen Victoria's late husband, along lake Waskesiu. There is a cute little town of the same name, and hiking and biking trails sprouting out in all directions. The picture here is the view from my campsite (I promised you, Marja, that I would put up a picture of my view when you all were starting the school year over there in Amsterdam, so here it is. Hah.). My dad is responsible for getting me here, as this is, apparently, where he and mom came to camp for their honeymoon, and while it probably squelched any love of camping in my mom (maybe it rained everyday then, too?), my dad remembers it as the gem in Saskatchewan's natural landscape that it is. Thanks dad. Good tip.

The sun only lasted the one day (that I was driving) and then it reverted back to pummelling rain again sometime last night. While I'd had big plans to cycle along the “scenic route” today and then spend the late afternoon lolling around the lake, perhaps taking a swim, the weather had other ideas for me. Sometimes the weather knows best, as I've now had a chance to catch up: on sleep (I won't reveal how late I slept in, it'll only embarrass all of us), on some reading, on organising my pictures, and some writing. I managed to get a stroll in through the woods along the lake during a dry pocket between rainfalls, though.

Its a bit strange thinking that at this time of year I would normally be heading back to school; thinking about the curriculum I would be about to teach; going over class lists and organising my room. I'm normally well-rested and summer-holiday-satiated and ready to get back to work. I'm not sure if it's sunk in even yet that I'm not returning to school this year, but I know that for some reason, I don't feel desperate to be there yet. I do know that my body works in school cycles and rhythms, though, so it will be interesting to monitor how that goes as the school year really gets going.

I am planning to drive the reputedly beautiful northern highway 106 to Flin Flon, Manitoba tomorrow, and as I now head out in the Jamboree on my own I feel like the adventure is taking on a new beginning. I've been with loved ones since I arrived in July and started the drive from Vancouver Island; I've been in relatively familiar territory – all three provinces of BC, Alberta and Saskatchewan I've grown up in and know well. Except for Toronto and Montreal, the rest of Canada eastwards from here I have, as yet, never explored. Let the sun shine and the adventure begin.