Someone prayed for me today

 . . . I don’t need to have folks praying for me, as far as I am aware. But it was a nice gesture anyway. And he had the courtesy to ask if I minded if he did so, first.

I think he worked here, at an enormous potash mine. Mosaic Potash (used for fertilizer) had a mountain of the stuff, all the more obvious from miles around because this part of Saskatchewan, anyway, is otherwise pretty flat.

I had stopped near the entrance of the mine to see if I could reach my destination without retracing my course for miles. It turned out I could, provided I didn’t mind driving on a little gravel! Ha!

Fred was the guy’s name and he stopped when he saw me possibly looking lost. Introduced himself as a fellow biker and was interested in my journey. He pointed me in the direction of this campground I am now in, and before setting off on my way he asked if I minded if he said a prayer for me. Not at all, I said and thanked him afterwards. I get the sense that this part of Saskatchewan is quite religious. Anyway, it was a very nice prayer. Hoping that God keeps me safe and shows me the beauty of the world and that I have a great adventure. I can’t really imagine how it would hurt. 

Couple of hours earlier, it felt more like the heavens had opened up to empty all of the rain in the world directly onto me. “Waterproof“ protective motorcycle gear is only a notion. Nothing is completely waterproof!

I think at that moment my only religious impulses were sacrilegious. 

Fortunately, it was fairly warm. But when I stopped to look at the weather prediction for the area around Brandon, it looks like the rain wasn’t going to stop for a good 16 hours.

Tou can sense the weather when you are out in it. Rain coming. The temperature drops, you can feel the air pressure change, there’s a fresh scent, these are all things you perceive on a motorbike but a car cocoons and insulated you.

Meanwhile, across the border in Saskatchewan, the weather looks to be much nicer. So I carried on.

Earlier today, I passed through Portage La Prarie, where the Assiniboine river flows across a snooze. The current was impressive, but I guess it must flow north to the Arctic just like me.

The Assiniboine River Valley curved around again, and it was a beautiful surprise in the middle of the prairie.

But now I’ve arrived in Esterhazy, Saskatchewan. 

It’s comfortable in my tent, and satisfied after a dinner of Filipino Style Rice Noodles, courtesy of the nearby golf course restaurant run by a Filipino family, I’m listening to the birds go to bed — no longer the raucous melody of springtime for the songbirds of earlier!