Maps – Colleen Friesen
Yesterday I put a post-it note on our dash.
It read: Saturday, May 28th, 2016.
It was a joke. A lousy and rather dark piece of humour in its reminiscence of the Menno Home extended-care unit and the daily white board notification of the date for all its lost inhabitants.
Whether you write it down or not, time feels more and more Jell-O like and just about as easy to pin down.
It doesn’t help that we have been ‘retired’ for a long time. In fact, I have now been unemployed longer than I was ever employed. So, the whole day of the week thing lost importance quite some time ago.
But in the last few years of living in the city while Kevin was once again doing that 9-5 thing again, it was easier to remember. Besides there were reminders, like Tuesday was the day the recycling was taken out, and for a couple of years, it was Wednesdays that I drove to Abbotsford to see Dad at the aforementioned Menno Home…
But now, with this new rolling life, we have become completely unmoored. Not only from a sense of place and belonging, but from the currency of time.
I’m not just talking about the days of the week either. There was other contributing factors like the month of ‘summer’ spent this past February in Mexico.
Puerto Escondido – Colleen Friesen
And the recent dark and icy cold of our ‘Winter’ nights near Jasper, and now the unexpected blast of Prairie Spring time warmth as we drive further into Saskatchewan; all these non-calendar-like periods collide in to a rather disorienting mash-up of a season-less Never-Never time.
I have to think hard about the month, the date, and sometimes, to my great dismay, the year.
In order to provide a smidgen of context to our new lives, I like to think of this six-month trailer life experiment as a sort of pilgrimage. Rather than simply random traveling, part of this quest is to see if there is Somewhere we might want to live. Not forever, but maybe for awhile.
But really…who knows?
Clearly, we don’t.
Yesterday was a very long day of driving. We left our campsite near Mette Hot Springs in the Rockies, and arrived, just across the Saskatchewan border at a tiny town called Macklin.
Macklin Mirror – Colleen Friesen
It was Saturday night (see aforementioned post-it note) and given the loose plan that has evolved over these last four weeks of travel, we decided to not cook. We would eat out.
The woman at the municipal campground answered our query about where to eat. “Well, there are only two restaurants in town. One is Chinese and Canadian food and the other one is…”
She searched the ceiling for the right description, “…well…just regular food.”
We drove back to the one street of town. But no matter how hard we looked between a smattering of businesses and shuttered buildings that were either for sale or rent or simply just empty, we saw only one place that looked like a possibility; the Peking Restaurant – Chinese And Western Food. We each ordered the two-item dinner so we could share a total of four (count ’em!) items. Kevin chose the chicken with veg and the sweet and sour pork. I picked dry ribs and ginger beef. Both dinners came with a pile of fried rice. It was hot, filling and pretty good as far as the Chinese and Canadian genre tends to go.
Kevin asked if they had IPA beer. “Oh. I don’t think so. That’s American?” Before he could answer, her face brightened and she looked pleased with her solution to the problem, “Then…how about Miller Genuine Draft.”
“That’d be great,” said Kevin.
Two young men at the booth behind us talked about heifers, girls and cars. It was clear to me that we would be finding no Saturday night live music in Macklin. Random people came in to pick up plastic bags of take-out.
Macklin Hotel – Colleen Friesen
As we drove back to our campsite, I thought about our pilgrimage quest and my ongoing hazy grasp of time and I realized that though I can be too often unsure of the date or time of year, I am quite sure of this: I do not want to live in Macklin.
(This is, of course, said with all due respect to its citizens, because I know, just like anywhere in the world, a place is made complete by the people and I’m quite sure there is a strong community of good people that comprise the town of Macklin. But to belong to a small prairie town takes a lifetime, or most likely, several generations, and I no longer have a luxury of a lifetime to pull it off. And, not to sound too Vancouver-spoiled, I need at least one bookstore, a few coffee shops, and more than one street.)
This morning, we continued to drive down straight prairie roads with their cartoon-like way of looping the same scenery past our windows: mile after mile of endlessly repeating telephone poles, grain silos, fields and fences.
Straight Ahead – Colleen Friesen
This flat landscape, where I can see only blue-skied infinity in every direction only serves to further mystify my already foggy understanding of time.
Maybe there are no dates?
Maybe there is no time?
Maybe we have been suspended in the middle of a Truman Show illusion all along?
Truman Show (from Pinterest)
Maybe, just maybe, I need the plastic and cardboard-cup grounding reality of a double-double.
I’m keeping my eye out for a Tim’s.
Tim’s – Colleen Friesen
Comments
Colleen, you’ve started my day/week with a smile or maybe a few more. Having just returned from my own “pilgrimage” to small town Saskatchewan, I could relate to your observations about these places….and those long and straight roads that never seem to end. I’m enjoying your journey and look forward to the next stop.
Hey Sophie, I know you know the prairies better than most given your roots 🙂
We always enjoy our time here. Saskatchewan is definitely one of my other ‘homes’.
Lol…I remember those trips to and thru Saskatchewan , our yearly visit to Osler and area. It definitely has to be about the people because for sure, the scenery is on repeat every mile or two. Those endless miles of crops different shades of green thru golden are beautiful….for awhile. Timmie was always a welcomed sight. I miss those trips, it seems they died with our beloved. A person really needs to take those trips again; if to only give our memories the shake up they may need.
Hey Patty. I remember those same trips as a child. Seeing those farmhouses, that were already old then. And now, so many of them are sinking back into the fields; those wind rippled sea-like fields…I find the whole landscape quite haunting and beautiful.
*Love* the skeleton map image! How wonderful to be able to step outside of time, although I totally got from your description the sense of unreality of such an exercise. Who knows, the two of you might complete some epic karmic quest and transcend at a campground one night, leaving everything behind. Like a Buddhist version of The Rapture.
I came across Canada on the train when I was fourteen (cue images of real silver, real napkins, night time rides across the prairies in the observation car, listening to the porter singing deep South blues in the darkness). A favourite pastime during the day was to sit with eyes glued to the view whipping past and yell out “COW!” whenever one appeared to break the monotony of fenceposts and earth curving ahead and behind. Thanks for prompting that memory.
Laurie, I already have enough moments where I will see a pair of shoes by a door and have this terrifying (and blessedly fleeting) thought that the Rapture has indeed happened. Talk about fear imprinting eh?
Love your story about the cow sightings. Might have to introduce that plan into the mix. Right now, we’re listening to books on Audible which is a lovely way to take in the landscape while ‘reading’.
Sometimes it’s more important to know what you don’t want, eh? I really do envy your journey, both the physical travel and all the rest that goes with it. Keep on truckin’ girlfriend!
It’s so true Gwen. It’s a process of elimination. A friend told me that big changes in life is akin to ‘shuffling the deck’. I like that vision, and if that’s the case, I think our version of it is like playing 52 pick up😎
I hope you make it out to Ontario on your quest for a place to live! Can I recommend a stop in Nipigon Ontario? Mayor Richard Harvey ( a great guy) can introduce you to some local craft beer (Sleeping Giant Brewing), sailing Lake Superior and the mystic Agate Beach – which as you might guess is covered in real agates and crystals. There were also some ancient rock paintings along the way near Red Rock. He showed us a huge abandoned historic hotel that was very tempting.
Another cool spot is the Trent Hills area in Ontario – lots of craft beer, rolling hills, a long bike path and plenty of lakes for fishing. Best of all, it’s close to Toronto for easy flights to Europe and the Caribbean.
Thanks for the recommendations Michele. I remember you telling me about some great little towns that you’d considered moving to at one time. I’d love to check these places out.