GWRT – THE FINAL CHAPTER

 OK so I have been back at home for two weeks now and it is time to wrap up this blog.  Getting all of the pictures into the entries may take a bit longer – even though I finally figured out a way to do this, it is still a slow PITA process.

In my last entry I had concluded my fabulous waterfowl hunt with Frank around Lloydminster, SK on the SK/AB border.  That was noon hour on Thanksgiving Saturday and the old grey mare headed for the home pasture, chased along by brisk winds and below-freezing temperatures.  In fact, here is a picture taken near Lloydminster the day after I left:

 

I met old buddy Ray on the highway at Langham SK, retrieved my muzzle-loader and shared a coffee and a chinwag, and said “PITY!” about the hunt I was not going to do with Ray after all.  I had “won the lottery” and had been drawn for a Canadian Resident Whitetail tag in Saskatchewan, even went and bought the licence and game seals, but I decided not to hang around like the ghost of Banquo.  Next stop was the Canadian Tire store in Saskatoon, to purchase some of those chemical hand-warmers like you might put inside a winter mitt.  Given that the brisk temperatures and wind chill had frozen the plumbing onboard, I figured that hand warmers with a wool sweater might thaw out the water pump at least.  (And they did!)

I was enroute to a buddy’s place near Selkirk MB where we hoped to do some trout fishing in his stocked pond, and then enjoy fresh trout for a traditional Thanksgiving supper.  Kind of.  But anyways I only got as far as Foam Lake SK when it was well past dark and I was beat to a snot.  I pulled up at a motel (which I had scoped out previously, suspecting that this would be as far as I would travel on Saturday), got a room with kitchenette, and plugged my camper in to the “block heater” receptacle.  With shore power I started up my electric heater again, to let it run all night and help thaw the pipes.  (And it did!)

It snowed that night and was sleeting on Thanksgiving Sunday.  I had kind of hoped to find a church where I could celebrate Thanksgiving, but had no luck in that regard, so I pressed on towards Beausejour with a VERY heavy headwind, probably forty gusting to sixty, dead on my nose.  I checked the fuel consumption and was averaging 25 litres per hundred kilometres, all the while trying to maintain speed to get to Wayne’s house in time to do some fishing.  QUITE some time later, with about fifteen minutes of daylight left, I arrived at “two-dogs” house and shortly thereafter we were fishing.  Our efforts were rewarded with a single rainbow trout, which Wayne caught on a piece of shrimp.  And we were five there for supper, and none of us is really able to do the loaves and fishes thing…………but Wayne announced that the others didn’t like fish anyway, so he and I each could have a fillet, which I then cooked up on his stove.  I had just finished my fillet, when I felt like somebody had smacked me with a billy club.  I just felt TERRIBLE, and excused myself to go back out to my camper.

It was only about 8:30 pm, and I crawled into my sleeping bag, which I might add is a good, warm, three season bag, with a fleece liner.  Soon I was shivering so hard the whole camper was shaking.  I got out of the bag, shivering and shaking, put on woollies and a toque, and went back to bed.  Not long afterwards I was sweating.  Then freezing.  Then sweating.  And so it continued until somewhere around 0530, when I finally fell asleep.  That was quite the memorable Thanksgiving…………….

The next morning the plan had been to return to the trout pond, and hopefully catch some more fish and maybe even smoke some.  But I felt like crap, so bid Wayne adieu and hit the road again, determined to make it home as soon as I could.  So Monday morning I was near Selkirk MB and Thursday I was home before supper.  That was a marathon, and I was being chased by northerly gales and sleet all the way home.  It was VERY good to be home, having driven 15,358 kilometers in my truck and many hundreds more with other folks over the course of my trip, call it sixteen thousand klicks or ten thousand miles, and my bones were somewhat weary.

Now the camper has been winterized and is in storage for the winter, and I am starting to turn my mind to preparations for deer camp.   

 

With the camper off, and thereby having lost my very convenient onboard head, my youngest son Marc gave me a gift which he made himself and which might come in handy:

 

 That fits into the hitch receiver..............

Our rifle season starts on Monday 7 November, maybe I will have a bit more luck here at home than I did out on the road.  Please wish me luck!

And thanks for reading – I have had quite a number of people that have told me how they enjoyed following along.  It’s been a slice.

Doug