I had to take a week and a half off of work. Our Glorious Department of People has a hard-and-fast rule that Thou Shalt Not Carry Over Vacation, Even If You’ve Worked 65+ Hour Weeks For Months Because We’re Overloaded And Couldn’t Take Time Off.
Yeah, slightly bitter about that.
My first couple of days, I stayed at home. Because Alex is working, the kids are at school, and me flying to a sandy beach would not end well.
Then I decided I didn’t want to stay at home any more.
I was standing at the breakfast counter, eating a bagel. It hit me: get in the car and just go somewhere. Don’t think, go.
I ended up on Highway 564 heading east. Ultimately, my destination was Dorothy, but that was just because I needed a landmark, it wasn’t the place per se.
The prairies are beautiful and I don’t see them enough. They’re a bit harder to handle in winter, largely as the endless blank white space is a bit much. They are, however, punctuated by black tarmac and the odd valley.
I plunged into one such valley in search of something I’d not seen before: an abandoned railway line.
(Okay, yes, I’ve seen many abandoned railways. Just not this specific one.)
Years ago, long before I was dating, I loved trains. I worked on CN 6060. I roamed the countryside just to follow a train. I followed one such train as it was heading into Drumheller … and I gave up chasing it shortly there after. Which, in hindsight, as an absolute loss of an opportunity, as the train would have continued towards the Rosebud River valley and big its long trek out towards Calgary. And the Rosebud River Valley would have been one heck of a chase.
I found it today much as it has been in the years since: quiet. The tracks were pulled in the mid-2000s, leaving behind the roadbed, some bridges, and those gorgeous curves that come from engineering the curves and grades to keep trains moving quickly and efficiently.
The only other thing I found were deer, who were not too pleased to see me trudging along their paths.
I passed through Wayne, which sits in the Rosebud River valley, home of the Last Chance Saloon, which I do need to properly visit one day. But it was too early for lunch, and I was still aiming further to go.
Exiting into the Red Deer River valley at Rosedale, I turned east and headed along Highway 10, eventually crossing over to the north side of the mostly-frozen river. Everywhere I looked was white – the valleys, the trees, the ice on the river. Only the roadway provided a different hue.
I explored little ways off the side of the highway, looking into the snow-covered badlands for something different, seeing the shadows and shapes, the natural landscape periodically cut with signs of human habitation.
Eventually, I reached my destination, the ghost town of Dorothy, about 40 kilometres away from Drumheller. There’s not much here to see, save for the long-abandoned (but still up-kept) Dorothy grain elevator, standing at the side of the road, itself laid atop a long-abandoned Canadian Pacific line that ran south.
It was quiet, only the odd car coming past to disturb the pseudo-silence of the valley. Not much breeze, hardly any animal sounds. The sun was trying to squeeze through the streaked clouds, giving me just enough light without casting a harsh shadow.
And then I was headed back. Only this time I went through Drumheller – ostensibly for lunch – before heading back on Highway 9 via Beiseker, where I nearly caught a northbound CN freight, then stopped a moment on a nearby parallel, and also long-abandoned CP roadbed.
I think I need to do this again.
