Frenchmen’s Trail Walk, Day One
We camped at the golf course in Mortlach last night. It was cold. I broke the half-zipper on my ultra-light, high-tech sleeping bag, which didn’t help. I’m not sure if the manufacturer traded robustness for weight, or if the bag was designed for a slim-hipped youth rather than a man of my carriage. And I could’ve used a winter hat–against the draft through the opening of my bivouac sack–never forget a warm hat for cold nights. I slept poorly, and the half dozen freight trains that passed on the main CP line 100 metres away didn’t help. I’ll be tired today, but that means I’ll sleep better tonight.
A group of us are walking the Frenchmen’s Trail. It’s the route settlers from Quebec took, from he railway station in Mortlach to heir homesteads near Gravelbourg. The walk is organized by Hugh Henry, who put together last year’s walk on the Battleford Trail. These walks are a way to experience the history of this place in a visceral way, with our bodies. And it’s fun to walk with other people. The walk to Wood Mountain was isolated in comparison. Solo walks are that way.
Yesterday we toured the museum in Mortlach, and then we drove out to look at a couple of archaeological sites. We at dinner together in town. The restaurant, Franklyn’s, apparently makes real English fish and chips with mushy peas, and I’d like to return to give that a try.
We’re still getting ready for the day. There’s breakfast in town, but Matthew brought bagels from Montreal, and that’s a rare treat. Today’s walk is 25 kilometres, and I’m looking forward to it.
Later: It’s lunch time. We’re 10 kilometres in, and so far all is well, although the shoes I’m trying out instead of my heavy and hot (and therefore sweaty) boots could be more supportive. There’s been a lot of harvest-related traffic on the road, although of course I didn’t think to take a picture of one of the combines.
Later: After walking some 25 kilometres, we arrived at our campsite: an abandoned farmyard. Everyone is tired. I’ve been wearing different shoes and insoles, and my feet are exhausted. But it was quite a day of walking: through Nature Conservancy pastures and along the original path of the Frenchmen’s Trail. Usually we walk on grid roads that roughly parallel the route of the trail, because much of its path has been cultivated and is on private land, so to walk in the ruts of the trail itself is unusual and special.
Now it’s time to cook some supper and rest my feet.
P.S. There was no cell service last night, so I’m posting this blog this morning.