TAKING THE LONG WAY HOME - March 14, 2018
Today we are in the Living Sky Country of Saskatchewan and though cold and windy, it is gloriously sunny. For hours between Medicine Hat and Swift Current we drive through ice fog that obscures the landscape and coats every tree and bush with sparkling hoar frost, but from there on east, the blue vault rises above us strung only with the merest wisps of clouds.
Once a young man of my acquaintance referred to Saskatchewan "as the brown streak on the underwear of Canada" after spending a summer working at CFB Dundern, and I know he is not alone in finding it a dry, barren land. I, however, am particularly fond of the vastness; the hills like waves of green in the spring and summer, acres of gold in the fall and such a contrast of white snow, black shadow and serried rows of stubble in winter.
I have one perfect spot where we always stop near Chaplin; a bird observatory on the grassy shores of Reed Lake. In spring, summer and fall migratory waterfowl of every description pause here by the thousands to rest and feed and nest. This shallow lake along with nearby Chaplin Lake comprise the second largest saline water body in Canada and here sodium sulphate is mined. In the saline water, brine shrimp or arternia, thrive and provide a rich diet for the birds and a livelihood for fishermen that net and freeze dry the minuscule crustacean for sale to the aquarium trade.
"It is an arctic landscape," observes Carl as we prepare to quit early today and just enjoy camping in our favourite place. The lake is a blank slate, a sheet of seamless white ice unbroken by crease or crevice and the air, in other seasons a cacophony of sound, is now silent but for the whistle of the bitterly cold wind and the crunch of snow beneath my sandals. Yet spring is creeping onto the land; watery pools round the grass clumps, the softness of the earthen trails and the rings of open water circling the sloughs all vouch for the bird's return within three weeks. A bit late for us this year, but we have been here to enjoy our special place just the same.
Once a young man of my acquaintance referred to Saskatchewan "as the brown streak on the underwear of Canada" after spending a summer working at CFB Dundern, and I know he is not alone in finding it a dry, barren land. I, however, am particularly fond of the vastness; the hills like waves of green in the spring and summer, acres of gold in the fall and such a contrast of white snow, black shadow and serried rows of stubble in winter.
I have one perfect spot where we always stop near Chaplin; a bird observatory on the grassy shores of Reed Lake. In spring, summer and fall migratory waterfowl of every description pause here by the thousands to rest and feed and nest. This shallow lake along with nearby Chaplin Lake comprise the second largest saline water body in Canada and here sodium sulphate is mined. In the saline water, brine shrimp or arternia, thrive and provide a rich diet for the birds and a livelihood for fishermen that net and freeze dry the minuscule crustacean for sale to the aquarium trade.
"It is an arctic landscape," observes Carl as we prepare to quit early today and just enjoy camping in our favourite place. The lake is a blank slate, a sheet of seamless white ice unbroken by crease or crevice and the air, in other seasons a cacophony of sound, is now silent but for the whistle of the bitterly cold wind and the crunch of snow beneath my sandals. Yet spring is creeping onto the land; watery pools round the grass clumps, the softness of the earthen trails and the rings of open water circling the sloughs all vouch for the bird's return within three weeks. A bit late for us this year, but we have been here to enjoy our special place just the same.
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