The prairies are flat, with lots of horizon, and really big sky. That is sort of what prairies are all about. So the Cypress Hills, which rise 600 metres up out of the prairies, should really stand out. But they don't. In fact, they seem to appear out of the flatness rather abruptly, like some optical illusion or local practical joke meant to freak out tourists.
Spanning the Alberta/Saskatchewan border the Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park was one of the areas I originally planned on hanging around for a while. I wanted to explore the area, meet the people, see the sights, smell the air, breath it all in, and hopefully have a lasting enough experience I could write about. But Writing-on-Stone was an unexpected and overwhelmingly delightful experience that, when combined with a visit to the Etzikom Museum, sort of sucked the day's ration of exploration energy out of me - and a good chunk of time. So, by the time I reached the Cypress Hills area it was later in the day than I had expected.
Like Banff, Jasper, and any number of other parks, Cypress Hills has a town within its boundaries: Elkwater. According to the map of the park I picked up back in Milk River it didn't look too far between Elkwater and the campground I was heading for, so I decided I would head back to town once I got myself settled. I drove on and up along a winding road into a thickening pine forest. This was the most trees I had seen in days.
Maps serve as guides, thumbnail sketches of an area at 1:150,000 scale, but often do little to alert the reader to what he will really find on his journey other than generalities. What does it mean if a road is unpaved? Is it dirt? Gravel? Soybean? Maps tend to offer few clues. Scale can be deceiving as well. Thus I found myself, with the sun hurtling toward the horizon, riding along a gravel road up over hills and down through hollows on a short journey, by the map's scale, to the Spruce Coulee campground.
I'm not sure where this map came from, but I'm pretty sure I didn't rely on it to get me anywhere.
For a seemingly short journey it seemed to take forever to get to the end of the road, and I have to say I was a little disappointed when I finally arrived at the campground. It looked like one of those places people go for long-weekend parties. It was a tough looking, hooligan attracting, campground with evidence of campfires held in non-designated campfire areas, faded beer cans scattered in the bushes, and the campsites themselves looked a little shabby.
But it wasn't a long-weekend and I was only staying one night. And I had the whole place to myself.
As I hauled my gear from the parking area to the campsite I had chosen a pick-up truck arrived. Great, I thought to myself, here come the hooligans. But it was only a park ranger who seemed a little lonely and kind of surprised to see me. We had a conversation I sort of wish we hadn't had.
John: Hi.
Ranger: Howdy
J: Nice evening, eh?
R: Yup. Hope you don't mind the flies.
J: Flies are okay. I don't imagine there are any bear in these parts are there?
R: Nope. Killed the last one 'bout a hundred years ago.
J: Hmmm. That's too bad.
R: Yup, 1905 I think it was.
J: Well, at least I don't have to worry about them. I've been camping in the mountains for a week. Hungry bears sort of have an effect on you.
R: Nope. Don't have to worry bout them here.
pause ...
R: Now Cougars on the other hand.
pause ...
J: Cougars?
R: Yup. There was a fresh kill just a week ago down near the town.
J: Fresh kill?
R: Yup. Deer.
J: phew.
R: Well, gotta go.
J: Er, right, thanks for the chat.
Ranger hops in his truck and is just about to drive away when ...
J: Hey, can you come here for a moment?
R: Yup.
J: (pointing to paw print in mud) What's that?
R: Probably a dog.
J: You sure?
R: Pretty sure.
J: K. Thanks.
Silent death lurking in the forest. Statistically speaking I knew the odds of being tender vittles for a 150 kilogram cat were greater than being struck by lightning, but ... I built a good fire and kept it stoked until the scotch had made me brave and the pot had made me mellow. I never did make it back to Elkwater that night.
The best thing about Spruce Coulee at Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park.
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