First day of vacation - always exciting! Especially exciting this morning since I stayed up too late and didn't pack anything in advance. Oh well.
Although the day will end in Waskesiu, we've decided to start out with a side trip to Fort Battleford, because we can use our FREE Canada 150 park pass. Also, because it's been a while since we've been there. And it's sort of on the way... or not. We might have accidentally mis-read the Parks Canada that shows the actual geographic layout of the parks. But let's not quibble about the difference between north by northwest or westish-northish. It's all the same. Right?
Whatever, we're off. It's a lovely sunny day, perfect for travelling, and it's smooth sailing down the lovely divided highway to North Battleford, then across the river to Battleford.
At Fort Battleford, I happily tell the clerk it will be FREE, due to my FREE park pass. He doesn't seem overly excited by my announcement. I guess I am not the only one with one of these babies - go figure.
We decide to do a self-guided tour (cause it's shorter - and FREE!), and so walk on over to the fort, which is a giant stockade. I wonder if the top of the stockade used to have pointy logs, instead of the nice uniform log-cabin logs that it is now made of. Wandering character actor say no, the original walls would have been made of much smaller trees, so the beams would have been much skinnier and uneven. I feel safer already when I get inside.
Anyway - brief diversion for a family history lesson: My great-great grandfather was a home guard at the fort, and met my great-great-grandmother there, way back in the way old days. My mom talked about how her aunt had come into possession of the original flag that was flown at the fort, and how she had donated it to Fort Battleford many years ago. They had seen it on display once, and it had been ripped, which made them sad, and then they never saw it again. My mom ranted a bit about how bad this was, and how they should have looked after it, et cetera and so on.
Returning to the present day: We walk through the original barracks building, and there are lots of displays: a movie (that we skip), a little soddy house, some military uniforms, and hey, look! There's the flag! Mom is super happy that it has been repaired and is on display. Booyah!
We continue walking through the fort. Mom is a bit disconcerted because:
I should note that officers had it good - and the commanding officer had it really good. Nice houses! But, even so, there are elements of Victorian decorating that must be described as tacky. I'm thinking of the horn chair (why?), and the hat rack made of horns (why?). Why did they think this was a good idea???
Anyway, the battle of Fort Battleford was an epic and mostly imaginary battle, where I imagine my great-great grandfather performed great heroic features of heroicness, and that's why they were never actually beseiged there, but if they had been - well, they would have been ready, darn it.
Okay, we've done the fort. Time to go. We have to walk back to the car - Monica and I are going to take the long way outside the fort (because there's a nature trail), while Joe and Mom will go out the visitor's entrance. Mom seems concerned she'll get lost. I don't think that's likely.
Monica and I set out over the prairie, going out what was originally the front entrance of the fort (by the Commanding Officer's house), and we loop around the outside of the fort to meet up with the much slower Mom & Joe near the visitor's entrance.
Mom is facing the parking lot, but still doesn't know which way to go. She starts to turn sideways, for no reason that I can discern. If we didn't stop her, she would have wandered back into Fort Battleford, and would probably be haunting it still, circling forever, with her squeaky walker wheels echoing through the night. Squeak-squeak-squeak.
Fortunately, I am a good daughter and say, "No, go toward the car, you dunderhead! The parking lot is right there! It's right there!!!"
Monica forcefully informs all of us that her stomach needs to be fed, and we should stop dillydallying.
We decide to go to a nearby restaurant that Mom remembers from a hundred years ago, the Pennydale Junction or something - apparently, we have been here before, but I have no memory of this place. Perhaps I was a wee child, or perhaps I am brain damaged from hard living. Whatever. Doesn't really matter, does it? It was a bit on the expensive side for lunch, but the important thing is that we got some food into Monica's stomach, so peace in our time (mostly).
Time to leave town, and head north. BUT WAIT - someone had the great idea to detour to the graveyard first. Check out the next post.
Although the day will end in Waskesiu, we've decided to start out with a side trip to Fort Battleford, because we can use our FREE Canada 150 park pass. Also, because it's been a while since we've been there. And it's sort of on the way... or not. We might have accidentally mis-read the Parks Canada that shows the actual geographic layout of the parks. But let's not quibble about the difference between north by northwest or westish-northish. It's all the same. Right?
Whatever, we're off. It's a lovely sunny day, perfect for travelling, and it's smooth sailing down the lovely divided highway to North Battleford, then across the river to Battleford.
At Fort Battleford, I happily tell the clerk it will be FREE, due to my FREE park pass. He doesn't seem overly excited by my announcement. I guess I am not the only one with one of these babies - go figure.
We decide to do a self-guided tour (cause it's shorter - and FREE!), and so walk on over to the fort, which is a giant stockade. I wonder if the top of the stockade used to have pointy logs, instead of the nice uniform log-cabin logs that it is now made of. Wandering character actor say no, the original walls would have been made of much smaller trees, so the beams would have been much skinnier and uneven. I feel safer already when I get inside.
Anyway - brief diversion for a family history lesson: My great-great grandfather was a home guard at the fort, and met my great-great-grandmother there, way back in the way old days. My mom talked about how her aunt had come into possession of the original flag that was flown at the fort, and how she had donated it to Fort Battleford many years ago. They had seen it on display once, and it had been ripped, which made them sad, and then they never saw it again. My mom ranted a bit about how bad this was, and how they should have looked after it, et cetera and so on.
Returning to the present day: We walk through the original barracks building, and there are lots of displays: a movie (that we skip), a little soddy house, some military uniforms, and hey, look! There's the flag! Mom is super happy that it has been repaired and is on display. Booyah!
 |
| The famous flag! |
We continue walking through the fort. Mom is a bit disconcerted because:
- She is old.
- It is hot outside.
- She has wheels (okay, a walker) and there are often stairs (because in ye olden days, old people did not have wheels).
 |
| Commanding Officer's House at Fort Battleford |
Anyway, the battle of Fort Battleford was an epic and mostly imaginary battle, where I imagine my great-great grandfather performed great heroic features of heroicness, and that's why they were never actually beseiged there, but if they had been - well, they would have been ready, darn it.
Okay, we've done the fort. Time to go. We have to walk back to the car - Monica and I are going to take the long way outside the fort (because there's a nature trail), while Joe and Mom will go out the visitor's entrance. Mom seems concerned she'll get lost. I don't think that's likely.
Monica and I set out over the prairie, going out what was originally the front entrance of the fort (by the Commanding Officer's house), and we loop around the outside of the fort to meet up with the much slower Mom & Joe near the visitor's entrance.
 |
| Tragically circling the fort for eternity. |
Fortunately, I am a good daughter and say, "No, go toward the car, you dunderhead! The parking lot is right there! It's right there!!!"
Monica forcefully informs all of us that her stomach needs to be fed, and we should stop dillydallying.
We decide to go to a nearby restaurant that Mom remembers from a hundred years ago, the Pennydale Junction or something - apparently, we have been here before, but I have no memory of this place. Perhaps I was a wee child, or perhaps I am brain damaged from hard living. Whatever. Doesn't really matter, does it? It was a bit on the expensive side for lunch, but the important thing is that we got some food into Monica's stomach, so peace in our time (mostly).
Time to leave town, and head north. BUT WAIT - someone had the great idea to detour to the graveyard first. Check out the next post.
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