Sadness in the air in Regina

REGINA -- There’s a stillness hanging over the RCMP’s national training centre here that has nothing to do with it being Sunday or the impending prairie thunderstorm.

Known as The Depot since its first days as an important post of the North West Mounted Police, the centre is where the Royal Canadian Mounted Police trains its mostly young recruits. It would only be human to have second thoughts about one’s career choice after the senseless massacre of three young officers and the wounding of two others in Moncton last week.

I went to the force’s Heritage Centre to pay my respects. For some reason, the slayings have affected me deeply.

No one signs on to become a target for a 24-year-old nutjob with more high-powered firepower than the officers he casually murdered right in their cruisers.

I had intended to write about some of the hazards I’m facing on this cross-Canada ride, but they pale in comparison to the deaths of these three Mounties. My heart goes out to their young families and loved ones.

I’d spent Saturday in Moose Jaw after a bone-jarring ride across south-central Saskatchewan on SK Hwy. 363, a continuous pothole every inch of the way from Cadillac. I only stopped there for a photo of the town sign to send to Frank, my friend of 35 years, who once had a 1958 Caddy lovingly restored by Ken Hindley, a classic-car restorer in Union, ON, south of London.

Cutting east on SK 13, the Red Coat Trail, so named for the scarlet tunics the first young Mounties wore as they marched into Canada’s wild, western frontier bringing law, a semblance of order and Canadian sovereignty to the vast and largely ungoverned region. It wasn’t long before I regretted my choice of route.

I probably could have, should have turned back. Ever the optimist, I doggedly kept on hoping the road would improve by the time I got to the hamlet of Shamrock. It didn’t! And as it turned out, if there ever had been a sign heralding the place’s Irish heritage, it had long ago faded into obscurity.

 

I probably could have, should have taken any number of gravel roads back to the Trans-Canada, but gravel scares me. I have no desire or ability to try to lift the half-tonne Bike-a-Lounger onto its wheels by myself and in 150 clicks on that rotten road, I saw exactly three trucks! Isolated doesn't begin to describe it!

I was saddle sore by the time I got into Moose Jaw, so-named for a bend in the Moose Jaw River, shaped, well, like a moose’s jaw!

No better excuse to take in the healing waters of the Temple Garden Spa!! I alternated between the 40C outdoor pool and the much hotter steam room until I was in danger of becoming a puddle on the tiled floor! Heavenly humid heat!

I followed that up with a re-hydration regime at Bobby’s Place, near the ever-busy casino next to the spa. A couple drinks and a pretty damn good, made-to-order shepherd’s pie had me feeling a whole lot more limber than I had been on my arrival.

They say Al Capone grabbed a train to Moose Jaw whenever the heat was on in Chicago, although there‘s little proof of that. and al wasn't exactly camera shy!
 

Speaking of the casino, the original Scarface would be impressed with the amount of legal gambling going on in his little prairie haven. Maybe not so much with the tours of the supposed bootlegger tunnels that connect many of the city’s historic downtown buildings and the various tourist traps which bear his name and mugshot.

Other than my visit to The Depot, the only other thing I did was get my picture taken in front of the Saskatchewan Legislature. It was Dog Jog Day and the woman who took my picture handed me the leash attached to her Dobermann named Odie. I don't think either of us was entirely comfortable with the arrangement.

That makes two out of three provinces that regard their legislature precinct as a place of the people. So far, only Alberta considers its Legislature Building and grounds -- where I worked for nearly 20 years -- a private enclave where such photos are disallowed by armed guards. Sad.

Tomorrow, I’m heading out to Weyburn, home of firebrand prairie preacher and populist politician Tommy Douglas, who led the fight to give Canadians universal health care, based on need not greed.

Then it’s on to Estevan on the U.S. border for a couple days fishing for bass!

Right now, I’m going to grab a bite and pin the ribbon for the fallen Mounties on my jacket.

I’m planning to be in Moncton on this ride. It won’t be the happy visit I’d planned on for obvious reasons.