2018 On the Road Again #11

I am sure that Morse, Saskatchewan is a lovely little town - most of the towns that I have visited just off of the Trans-Canada are. They have been charming. There have even been a few that I have fantasized about living there. But I, like so many of the towns along my route, never got to see it. In fact I only saw the hundred or so metres around the gas station owned by my previous driver. Morse, no matter how big or small it is, was just up over a low rise. A rise that I had no need to climb.

It was not a great place to stand. Across the road from where I was standing, there was Reed lake - It is one of those shallow lakes that are great for migrating birds and mosquitoes. Just beside me, running alongside the generous shoulder was a deep ditch - partially filled with water. It was the first time that day that I was glad of the wind - it kept the bugs away. Other than local traffic, there was no reason for cars to slow down when they saw me. Everyone seemed to be going a billion miles an hour, most of the cars seemed to have more than one person in them and almost no one even looked my way as they passed. There were the usual number of trucks on the road - but most of them were grain trucks - they all seemed to be in a rush as well. There was a fair amount of local traffic - folks who turned off to get gas and then went into town or else got back on the highway to go back to where ever they had come from. It was a frustrating few hours. I would have walked somewhere but there was nowhere to walk to.

As the sun began to set, the wind dropped, not completely but just enough so that the mosquitoes could find me, and land on me. The silly little buggers did not know that I had spent years living in Ontario and for the most part my skin is too thick for them - or something. I had a few bites, but very little itching. They were just bloody annoying.

I had already chosen my spot to sleep. There was a nice big sign just off the road welcoming me to Morse, Saskatchewan. It had a few shrubs around it and flags flying from a tall flag pole. It was on a wee hill so that I knew it would be dry and it looked as if there was enough of a flat space for me and my little bivy sack.

I tried to hitch well past dusk - I know better. In spite of a street light at the corner, there was no way anyone could see me in time to slow down. But there was nothing else to do and so I stayed. Eventually I admitted defeat for the day and after using the gas station's bathroom and buying something to drink, I went up to my little mound to set up the bivy sack. Of course by that time it was dark and as I had not set it up for a year, I took me longer than it should have to get everything in the right place. I was tempted not to bother with the tent but there will still a few bugs around - nothing interrupts my sleep more than a mosquito taking too long looking for just the right place to get some blood. I also did not want to get wet. The sky was clear but that did not mean that it would stay clear all night.

The ground was hard. Most ground, unless it is soggy is, but this dirt had no give in it at all. It was not the most comfortable night's sleep that I had ever had, but on the other hand - it wasn't raining, I had met some interesting people and if I wasn't where I hoped I would be - I was on the road again - proving at least to myself that hitchhiking is still the best was to travel.