The Best Trip

“Oh, little snowbird take me with you when you go...”

Our iTunes had just sparked up Rani Arbo and Daisy Mayhem with their cheery rendition of the old Gene Maclellan classic as we headed north along SK-2 near Ardill when two actual Snowbird Tutor jets climbed in tandem through the blue sky above. Up, up, up they banked until, just when it seemed there was no more sky, they rolled over backwards and looped earthward, dropping like hawks.  At the last possible moment, over some farmer’s field, the wings tilted 90˚ and the planes split apart. Fantastic – a heavenly pas de deux with only us to see it. We felt well and truly welcomed home.

We were returning from what has turned out to be our best road trip so far (that's Daisy on the dashboard).  We got an early start, slicing through the thin fog enroute to Rosetown.  Another reason we love driving in Saskatchewan is the abundance of diagonal roads.  The grid system allows these efficient trajectories because farmers and other workers cover a lot of miles each day, and the forgiving landscape allows you to put a road just about anywhere.  

But why do the engineers insist on building turns at the crest of most hills?  For the jolt of terror as you meet a tractor pulling a seed drill coming round the blind corner? The fog was mostly gone by the time we reached Lake Diefenbaker, although we did see a fogbow outside of Eyebrow.  Fogbows, aka white rainbows, are made by smaller droplets of water trapped inside fog so that sunlight doesn’t refract into colour rays.

We got to the village of Smiley shortly after noon and easily found The Great Wall of Saskatchewan.  It's an amazing piece of work - six feet high, nine feet wide at the base and almost a kilometre long - built entirely by one man.

As most farmers do, Albert "Stonewall" Johnson spent many hours picking stones out of his fields.  It isn’t unusual for them to make a cairn or to use the field stones in other projects around the farmhouse – a fireplace or support for a gracious verandah.  But Albert sort of got carried away building his wall.  The engineering is a marvel.  He used no cement or mortar and the wall is designed with larger tapered stones angling inward so that the outer sides fall towards the centre.

He had setbacks.  When a portion blew in he was forced to rebuild 500 feet of the wall.  He planted spruce trees along the western edge as a windbreak to protect the wall and kept building.  It got to the point he was working on it eight hours a day, cleaning rocks and hauling them into place.  

He started at age 52 and kept working for over 30 years, handling “about a billion rocks” along the way. Yes, he was married and had children.  His son Ken is famous for another Smiley construction project - a canal one km long, 36 metres wide and 4 metres deep that he uses to water the garden and to cruise in his motorboat.  He’s stocked it with trout, and migrating ducks are pretty happy to visit too.  Both the canal and the wall are visible from Google Earth’s satellite.

These two Johnson men have our deep admiration for their hard work and dedication.  By doing a little bit of work each day Albert has altered the landscape and given safe homes to thousands of creatures.  We smelled honey near the south end and presume there are wild bees living in the wall. Smaller mammals such as mice, voles and shrews, along with snakes, toads and a galaxy of insects are safely tucked away in the gaps between the rocks. No one asked him to do this, and he surely heard scoffing from doubters. But he kept at it, day by day, stone by stone and built his great wall.

  

I see him there / Bringing a stone grasped firmly

by the top in each hand / Like an old-stone savage armed.

               

Next time we'll head into cattle country, including Fort Walsh, Maple Creek and the Great Sandhills, where rancher and conservator John Both of the Sandhills Stockmen's Association built this archway.  Happy trails!