Day 9 Indian Head Saskatchewan

Our trip through Manitoba into Saskatchewan was an often amusing reminder that, though we are all Canadian, we live very different lives from coast to coast. When you pass a highway sign for Central Veterinary Services and you see two large barns, you realize that maybe going to the vet means something just a little different out here! Of course the large bull adorning the sign was a bit of a hint too.  The countless miles of washboard Trans Canada had me wondering what I was thinking in complaining about a rough spot on the 401. I was certain by the time we arrived in Brandon my fillings were loose! We saw the KOA where you may remember we were supposed to stay. It was right beside the highway so it was pretty easy to see that it is still completely submerged under several feet of water. The man who shared the laundry with me last evening lives in southwestern Manitoba, and says that in Minot, the water has reached the 7 foot mark and is now at the tops of garage doors! The highway through Manitoba crisscrosses the Assiniboine River several times. The pattern became clear. You would notice flooding and moments later would cross the river with the highway bridge just clearing the water line. Apparently, though worse this year than most, folks here are pretty accustomed to this battle with nature. The rich smell of fertile soil, as we travel between fields as far as the eye can see. Ridin’ in our pick-up with country music playin’ on the radio – yup, life sure is different ‘round these parts!

Entering Saskatchewan I expected to notice a big difference and immediately enter the prairie. It’s somewhat less dramatic than that, so far anyway. David was in Saskatchewan a number of years ago and tells me by the time we hit the other side of Regina and head toward Swift Current the prairie of my imagination will materialize. In the meantime, though not exactly what I expected, Saskatchewan is filled with a unique flavor that once again sets it apart from the rest of Canada. I remember years ago, during a time of separatist turmoil in Quebec, David’s Grandmother becoming agitated with the idea of a distinct society. She claimed hotly, that Quebec was no more distinct than the rest of us! I’ve thought of that often on this trip as we travel though one country that shares so much yet is so unique in its, geography, culture and expression.

Original grain elevator

Modern equivilant

Our destination today was Indian Head. We knew very little about it and chose it for no other reason than its convenience. The campground was near the highway and it was about the right distance for a reasonable day of travel. Little did we know until we registered at the front gate that we’re staying in Mercy! Literally. I had no idea, though I’ve watched the show, that Little Mosque on the Prairie was shot on location in Saskatchewan. The studio work was done in Regina but the outside shots were filmed in Indian Head. Apparently the producers were so impressed with the town as the perfect setting for the fictional Mercy that they have decided to all off-location shoots here in the future.

I remember this being the set for several scenes in the show!

Main Street Mercy/Indian Head

David and I parked the trailer and decide to set out on foot, being assured that “town” was just a nice walk. Indeed it was! We were told to go out behind the shed and head straight across the field – we’d find Main Street. Once again, filled with blind faith, we did as we were told and sure enough, we found Mercy! A bit deserted, everything closes at 2:00 on Saturday???? The old ice cream shop was open though so we enjoyed a treat as we explored the town and spent a happy afternoon taking pictures.

Traffic not so busy when your ice cream sign sits on the yellow line!!!!

Good thing we paid for the ice cream. These folks take debt seriously. In the front window of the electrical supply store!

Back at the trailer, dishes done, I am working on my blog as night settles on the prairie. The call of the loons has been replaced with a train whistle. We’ve already lost count of how many trains have passed by. The clack of the rails still sounding long after the whistle has faded into the night – that’s just how long these prairie trains are.