Hiking in the Shadow of Malo : Torrington to Linden

After a quiet night during which we were serenaded by coyotes, we were woken up by the sounds of a hungry and demanding Black-billed Magpie family in the shrubs beside our tent.  This was followed by the sounds of the first transport trucks, loaded logging trucks, and trucks hauling double-long loads down the highway that bordered the campground.  Finally after a brief rain shower around 5 am, we got up, got packed, and headed south on the Trans Canada Trail out of the tiny hamlet of Torrington. 

It was another magical morning walking through the rolling hills and fields of Alberta's countryside.  We fully appreciated the cool morning air, slight breeze, and partial cloud cover, knowing that later this afternoon the temperatures would climb into the low 30's. Our walk began on a paved highway, which made for a few hours of easy and fast travelling, but we couldn't help wondering once again where all the traffic was coming from on a road that seemed to do nothing more than traverse farm country and connect a string of small and quiet communities. 

Despite the constant traffic, the world really put on a spectacular show.  Beams of soft golden light shone down through gaps in the clouds, creating pools of bright yellow in the canola fields below.  As the light shifted and changed, moving across the hills, lone trees stood out like sentinels. 

In the soft morning light the subtle reds, yellows, browns, and greens of grasses mixed with the delicate yellows, purples, whites, and pinks of the wildflowers.  Patches of light sea green shrubs and wild sage began to appear as well, adding a new colour to nature's palette.  The sweet smell of thousands of blossoms mixed with the fresh, spicy smell of wild sage filled the cool, fresh morning air.

We also weren't the only ones out enjoying the morning.  Savannah Sparrows lined the roadside, and a family of Eastern Kingbirds kept pace with us, keeping just ahead of us as they flew from fence post to fence post.  The constant shrill calls of Richardson's Ground Squirrels pierced the air, indignantly objecting to our presence.  Overhead the scream of a Red-tailed Hawk rang out.  Perhaps best of all, a tall mule deer with a magnificent set of antlers posed in a nearby field, as if waiting to have his photo taken. 

As the landscape changed to one of more defined hills and ravines we saw or heard a total of twelve Red-tailed Hawks, and three Swainson's Hawks.  We were also lucky enough to spot six more mule deer.  One paused as it was crossing the road ahead of us and turned to look straight at us.  Four were standing still in the quiet yard of an old farm.  As we approached they scattered into the hills, disappearing in great spring-loaded leaps and bounds. The last was a female, standing stalk still in front of a small pond.

Eventually our paved road came to an end, and we continued our southward trajectory on a quieter gravel range road.  The open countryside was beautiful, and we passed some stunning red wooden barns.  A short distance down the road a black pickup truck approached us, stopped, and the driver jumped out and walked around the back.  At first this was pretty unnerving – having a large truck sudden stop and having a mountain of a man race out and up to you - but it turned out he had seen us walking up near Wetaskiwin a few days ago, and was merely curious about what we were up to.  After a short chat he wished us well and continued on. 

Soon the landscape around us changed again, and we found ourselves descending into a long, grassy, ravine. Like yesterday, the soft, melted slopes along both sides of the grassy valley reminded us a lot of the stunningly beautiful Qu'Appelle Valley.  A small river meandered along the flat bottom of open the valley, but it was mostly out of sight.  A pair of Turkey Vultures perched atop a fence, and the cries of a Swainson's Hawk echoed from above. A little farther along we came across a pair of Wapiti posing on the far edge of the valley, their antlers cutting a very impressive profile. 

On the plateau above the far side of the valley we could also see what looked like a huge flock of white sheep. It turned out to be hundreds of shrink-wrapped bales of hay.  Throughout the day we passed many hay fields that were being mowed, or that had recently been cut, the fresh smell of grass still hanging in the air above the striped fields.  The beginning of the harvest is a clear marker of the passage of time out here on the prairies. 

The road along the ravine was also marked with some interesting historical plaques.  One was a metal sign for Crown S.D. 1041, 1904-1953.  When we looked it up, we discovered it marked the spot where School District 1041 used to be located.  Apparently the school districts were numbered consecutively according to when they were applied for.  As a result, they give a clue as to the order in which communities were settled and began to develop.  The other interesting historical marker we spotted was a plaque for a Century Farm, recognizing that the land had been farmed by the same family for 100 years or more. 

Around 11 am we reached the tiny community of Sunnyslope.  This was a Mennonite community of around 28 people, but it was listed as having a community hall and a church.  We had been hoping to take a break outside one of these buildings, but the community hall must have been in one of the homes, and while the church was a large and immaculately kept building, there was absolutely no shade anywhere.  By this point the sun had broken through the clouds, and it was starting to get very hot, and so we continued on to get as much distance covered before the blazing temperatures of mid afternoon caught up with us. 

We had initially been planning to walk to Acme today, but at some point after we left Sunnyslope the muscles in my left leg began to really hurt every time I picked up my foot, and my ankle started to swell up.  For the first time in crossing Canada I could barely walk for the pain.  I soon went from hiking to limping to hardly moving.  

With the temperature now at 34 degrees, Sean made me take off my backpack and drink 2 litres of cold water.  While I sat under my umbrella I watched as he then locked my backpack onto my hiking cart and then proceeded to clip my wheels onto his backpack so that he could pull all of my gear while pushing his own.  And so for the remainder of the day he would pull-push and carry almost 150 lbs of gear, water, and camera gear amid the stifling heat without a word of complaint.  I was stunned as continued forward and continued to photograph the landscapes and trails while perspiration rained off of him. I have never seen anything like what he did this afternoon in my life.  

 

In this manner, we made our way down another long river valley, the sun beating down from above, and the crunch of our feet on the gravel road the only sound apart form the birds.  A Great Blue Heron swooped low over our heads before landing at the edge of the meandering stream beside us.  A strange call in a stand of trembling aspen called our attention to a group of Western Kingbirds foraging and moving about in the leaves.  As we crossed a small concrete bridge over the waterway a large flock of Bank Swallows swooped and dove above the river, bringing the occasional insects to hungry nestlings in the many burrows on its earth banks. 

When we finally climbed out of the valley on the far end and found ourselves once again at a paved highway, we decided to divert off the trail into Linden.  My ankle was really hurting, and it was rapidly becoming too hot to be pleasant on the road.  This turned out to be a wonderful decision. 

As we were climbing the long hill towards Linden on the baking hot and busy highway a car stopped to ask what we were doing.  The lady who chatted to me had spoken to Mel and Malo when they came through a few weeks ago, and was very enthusiastic about their hike.  This wasn't the only person in town who had fond memories of the duo.  When we stopped at the convenience store to get a cold drink, the owners asked what we were doing, and when Sean explained, their children enthusiastically asked if we also had a dog too.  They immediately lost interest when they learned we didn't, but the superstar status of Malo was reconfirmed.  It seems he is a hard act to follow! 

When we arrived at the Linden Campground we found one free site of the seven available. Phew!  By this time is was punishingly hot, and there was no shade in the site, but luckily there was a central pavilion with a roof. The other occupants of the campground, all of whom had RVs, watched us in fascination as we set up the tent, washed our clothes in our camp bucket, and then hung them up in the scorching sun to dry.  Nothing makes one humbler than hand washing yourself and cleaning all of your clothes in front of strangers – there is little left that is not known to the world after this. 

Eventually one brave man approached us in the pavilion where we were working and asked what we were doing.  Word soon spread, and the wonderful people in the campground chose to adopt us.  One lady brought us two enormous and delicious plates of salad. Another couple offered us oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.  Vickie and her husband gave us matches and fire starters carefully packed in a Ziploc bag to keep them dry.  The kindness and generosity of these people was humbling and overwhelming, and it was wonderful to meet them and hear a little about their own travels. 

When the heat finally began to abate a little we walked around the campground.  A paved pathway looped around two small ponds, which are surrounded by tidily mowed green spaces with gazebos, benches, a small covered bridge, a couple of bat boxes, and several bird houses.  Down by the pond an American Kestrel flew past overhead.  A Belted-kingfisher complained loudly as it circled and then came to rest in a nearby tree. Two Black Terns circled ceaselessly above the water, where a large family of Canada Geese, a single American Coot, and several Mallards floated.  

The park connected to the surrounding neighbourhoods, and it was lovely to see several families out with small children, and others walking their dogs and enjoying this natural space. A definite highlight was spotting three coyotes standing watch in a field of grain at the far edge of the ponds.  As the light began to fade a mule deer approached the edge of the campground and stood quietly watching from the trees along the edge. 

Today was tough, but it was filled with incredible beauty, and it ended with unexpected kindness.  As we lay here watching the light fade we can inexplicably hear cows mooing somewhere nearby, and a slight breeze is rustling the leaves of the trembling aspens behind the tent. We feel lucky to be here.  The kindness, curiosity and adventurous spirit of Albertans has been wonderful to experience first hand!

See you on the trail!

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