On the Road: Rolling hills and fields

Yep, after spending most of the summer airing up at least one, sometimes two, tires with slow leaks, I at last have four grippy all-weather tires holding up the corners of the truck.

And thanks to my friend Bruce, they weren't even all that expensive!

My first thought was to head west of Sundre to visit the feral horses. I'd headed that way a few weeks ago but chickened out because of one particularly leaky tire and just bummed around the foothills instead. The weather was kind of drizzly and breezy today, though, so I decided to save that for another day.

Then I thought I might go to the Sheep River country for a look around. But at this time of year, that's a place to savour once the leaves really start to turn. Gorgeous now but better in another couple weeks.

So I checked the weather forecast and found that the Three Hills area was calling for partial clearing later in the day with light winds. Been a while since I've been out among those rolling hills and fields. OK, let's head there.

The day was gloomy with a dark sky overhead and patches of rain as I headed east from Airdrie, but off to the horizon beyond Kathyrn, there were patches of blue. Stopping by a field to take a picture of a pump jack against the sky, I could see the clouds were moving, drifting south and exposing even more blue.

The tires with their more aggressive treads were flinging up bits of gravel that clattered against the undercarriage but they bit at the road and carried me straight. Stopping at Beiseker for one of my frequent bathroom breaks — part of my bowel problems — I walked around the truck to see if the tires were holding up.

To no surprise at all, they were fine. Onward!

A lot of the fields beyond Acme were still standing, ripe and ready to harvest, but too damp for the combines. But they did look lush. Once things get moving again, rivers of wheat, barley and canola will flow.

Nice as they looked, though, they weren't exactly inspiring, photographically speaking. Had there been a few bits of machinery standing idly by waiting for the crops to dry, that could have worked, but there wasn't even that. As a result, I didn't shoot much until I hit Sunnyslope.

There was a field just south of there where the grain came right up to the gravel and the seed heads all nodded to the right, which gave it a kind of symmetry. Not a great picture but I shot it anyway. Across the road, though, was something a little more interesting.

I kinda love willows. Some of them grow straight as arrow shafts — and were used for just that — others lean with the current on river islands. The ones here were the twisty kind, tree-like and corkscrewing slowly toward the sky as they grow. The pasture they were in was still a lovely green with contented cattle that barely looked up.

All the willows looked nice but one had been knocked over sometime in its youth and now grew close to the ground. Decades of itchy cattle and winter winds had stripped the bark from the lowest parts but the rest of it was still torquing its way heavenward. Gorgeous.

Linden was just down the road so I stopped there to see if there were any pastries left at the coffee shop. Given my condition, I'm not really supposed to eat that kind of stuff but, I mean, ya gotta treat yourself once in a while.

Cherry danish in hand, I continued on east toward Swalwell.

Such a cute little town. There used to be elevators here — like so many other places — but they're gone now and only the tiny town and its well-kept homes remain. Lots of evidence of a thriving community, though. The streets were neat and someone was re-caulking the cinder blocks on the town centre.

I was there for the dam, though. In years past I've seen a lot of birds here, ducks, geese, coots, blackbirds, and I expected some today.

Nope, not happening. Too early maybe or just not enough water in the reservoir. There were a few geese because there are always geese and a handful of coots. A flock of tiny birds swept past and over the water but they just kept on going. So I circled back around and came at Swalwell from another angle.

Red barns. There's something about red barns that just screams take my picture. So I did. This one was positioned among round bales with Swalwell behind and a stormy sky overhead. A cliche, yes. But a forgivable one.

I continued on north toward Three Hills through more rolling fields. Most crops were still standing, but some had been laid out in windrows. Straw bales studded the grain fields that had been harvested while hay bales stood out dark against the green regrowth around them. Young meadowlarks were everywhere but very skittish. I did find a savannah sparrow that posed for me, though.

Those patches of blue sky I'd earlier seen off in the distance turned out to be just east of Three Hills. While there were still a few showers around, sunshine popped out and lit up sections of the undulating land. I found a flock of Canada geese that were so comfortable basking in it, they barely bothered to stand up.

I even found some machinery working. Looking down from a hill I could see the road heading toward the slash of Kneehill Creek off in the distance while somebody on a quad was checking the swathes in a field next to the road. It wasn't until I got down there, though, that I saw a swather cutting through this incredibly thick crop.

Looking away from the big landscapes for a moment I came across a long row of wild sunflowers, most of which were still in bloom. And in those blooms were bugs.

Lots of bumblebees gathering pollen, though doing it a bit more slowly than on a hot summer day. There were plenty of little moths, too. Sweat bees, hoverflies and a couple of dragonflies but, interestingly, no butterflies. At 9 C, it might have been a bit chilly for them.

I kept heading south now, passing dozens of kestrels that were every bit as skittish as the young meadowlarks, but I eventually had to turn east when I ran out of road. Turned out to be a lucky thing.

Antelope have amazing eyelashes and I could see the ones on this young guy even as he was walking away.

Thanks to a couple of missed — or ignored — turns, I'd ended up close to the Red Deer River valley upstream from Drumheller and now, coming up to a T-intersection, I saw an animal by the side of the road.

Yep, an antelope, a very calm, young antelope. He let me get fairly close before turning around and walking away and as he did, thanks to my long lens, I could see his eyelashes even from behind.

They are amazing. So thick and long, both on top and on the bottom, they almost don't look real. I have a couple of friends that glue on similar, synthetic things and they look OK. But these antelope lashes put them to shame.

I drove on past him as he sauntered along and I could see he was aiming to cross the road and head to another field so I pulled ahead a respectful distance and waited. He couldn't have cared less if I was there.

Within a couple of minutes he had crossed the road and wandered by right in front of the truck close enough to get a good look at those lovely lashes. The old advertising slogan went something like, maybe you're born with it, maybe it's Maybelline. Antelope are definitely born with it.

The end of the day was sneaking up on me now so, thanks to a road closure, I headed down to the Bleriot Ferry, crossed the river into the badlands and rolled back toward town through Drumheller. Dusk was coming on quickly, accelerated by rain clouds to the west, and by the time I hit Beiseker again, it was drizzling and nearly dark.

The day was ending pretty much like it had started but for a few brief minutes, the sun found its way through the clouds and lit the sky. Not a bad way to end the day. And I never had to stop even once to add air.

I think I'm going to like this re-tirement!