A Travel Writer Again by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

Amazon US: https://us.amazon.com/Road-Tripping.../dp/B0GNJFDZMF

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/Road-Tripping.../dp/0228639352

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/.../road.../1149544339...

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/1968339

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/.../road-tripping-southern-alberta...

 

I took a few writing courses and began my published, writing career (as opposed to my unpublished writing career) with a short story titled A Hawk's Reluctant Flight, in a small magazine called Western People. With that on my short resume, I had travel and historical articles accepted by other magazines, one of which didn't pay anything to the author. Then I took another writing course and one of the speakers was a publisher, Grant.

At the time Alberta was divided into tourist zones and I had been thinking about doing a book on what there was to see and do in each zone. I sent a query letter to Grant's publishing company and the senior editor responded with a phone call. We set up a time for me to go to the city and meet with both of them. I outlined my idea and Grant said yes it was a good one but he thought the books should be more on the people and culture of each zone. He liked his idea and I liked mine so we decided we couldn't work together. As I stood to leave I said. "Well, at least as I research the zones I will see all the backroads of Alberta." He replied. "I've always want to do a book on the backroads of Alberta." I sat back down and that was how I began my backroads series. Over the next ten years I travelled through and wrote two travel books on Alberta, four travel books on British Columbia, and one travel book on the Yukon and Alaska.

My favourite books to read have always been mystery novels and after much thought I decided to write one. Since one of the mantras of writing is to write what you know I made my main character a travel writer. Since then, I have written seven mystery, six historical, two sci/fi, two holiday romance/comedies, and one non-fiction. Now, thirty-three years after my first Alberta travel book was published, I am a travel writer once again.

My latest book is titled 'Roadtripping Southern Alberta' and here is the Introduction, and the section of the book that explains the front cover. Enjoy reading and hopefully you will visit the area soon.

Introduction

Unfortunately, many people have lost the art of the drive. It’s been replaced by the art of the destination. Everyone wants to get to their journey’s end instead of enjoying the drive, the travel. This book is about travelling through southern Alberta. Each chapter in this book is a loop, so you start and end in the same place. Some of the loops are close enough to each other that you can hop off one and onto another, tour it, and then hop back onto your first loop. You are free to take as long as you wish on each chapter to enjoy the whole experience.

Most hamlets, villages, and towns have museums that are preserving and chronicling the unique history in each area. After visiting those, and other places cited in this book, drive or walk around the communities. You might see children selling lemonade or iced tea on a street corner or you might meet the residents who are friendly and helpful. You can check out the shops, galleries, and stores. There is always something unique and interesting to see. Plus, you might be fortunate enough to find a Farmer’s Market where you can pick up fresh vegetables, baking, eggs, and meat products.

Regrettably, not all sites, adventures, or experiences are mentioned here- it would take a book much larger than this and I extend my apologies to those places. This book is designed to give you an idea of the natural and man-made attractions, the stories and history of the areas, and the famous and infamous people who lived here. In the process, it is my aim to get you out exploring this part of the province. So, if you see a sign for something not mentioned in here, or if you wonder what is down a road, feel free to go check them out. It is your holiday and hopefully this book will make you love the journey again.

Alberta is a large province with wide, open spaces. In places you have an unobstructed view in all directions. Sometimes there is a long distance between towns or locations so you can check to see how the crops are doing, count the number of cattle in a field, watch for wildlife, and wonder about the dreams of the people who built the houses, barns, and granaries that are now in various stages of decline. Or you can play a new game: I spy with my little eye in the far, far distance something that is….

It doesn’t matter how you are travelling, there are campgrounds (some with hook-ups, some primitive), resorts, national and provincial parks, recreation sites, hotels, B&B’s, and motels for you to stay at. Most towns have parks for picnics and golf courses, and some have RV sanitation dump stations.

If you decide to reverse the route in which you explore any of these roads, remember to also reverse the direction in which you turn off that road. Once off the road, all other turns will remain the same.

Relax and enjoy the trip and remember, many of the sites you will see can only be found in this province. As one man I met said: "This is the true Alberta."

Medicine Hat and Red Rock Coulee

‘The city with all hell for a basement’ was the way Rudyard Kipling described Medicine Hat because of the gas fields discovered beneath it in the 1880s. By the early 1900s most homes, offices, schools, and churches were heated by the gas.

The city was named after the Saamis, or Medicine Man's, hat which was lost by the Cree's medicine man during a battle with the Blackfoot. This was considered a bad sign and when the Cree were all killed the site was given the name Saamis.

The Saamis Tepee, which can be seen from the Highway as you drive through the city, was originally constructed for the 1988 Olympics in Calgary. After the Olympics, it was bought, dismantled, and moved to Medicine Hat where it overlooks the Seven Persons Creek Coulee. The teepee is 20 storeys or 65.5 metres high and its poles are made of steel with a concrete foundation.

To see the teepee, exit off the highway onto Southridge Drive/College Avenue SE and the teepee plus the Medicine Hat visitor information centre are to your right along Southridge Drive. At the centre you will find information on sights not mentioned here such as the city's historic walking tour, the viewpoints, and the many parks.

The poles of the teepee are not covered so it is open to the sky. Walk inside the teepee to see the round storyboards, which are paintings depicting stories about the history of the first people, such as the Plains Cree, the Blackfoot Confederacy, the arrival of the non‑First Nations, and the Metis. There are interpretive signs below explaining each board.

From the teepee you can walk to the edge of the cliff and look down on the Saamis Archaeological site in the Seven Persons’ Coulee below. It is believed that the area was occupied as far back as A.D. 1525 and as recently as A.D. 1740.

With the abundance of clay along the banks of the South Saskatchewan River in the Medicine Hat area, it was natural that a pottery industry began and grew in the early 1900s. There was natural gas to fire the kilns and a railway to transport the finished products to market. Three potteries, Medalta, Medicine Hat, and Alberta, were all operating at the same time. Medicine Hat Potteries later became the Hycroft China, Ltd.

To see the products of Medalta Potteries and to take a tour of the building, museum, and huge kilns at 713 Medalta Avenue SE, turn left onto Southridge Drive when you come out of tourist information. Southridge Drive becomes College Avenue when you cross Highway 1. You reach a four‑way stop at Kipling where you go right. Head straight through the lights at Dunsmore and when you come to Allowance Avenue turn left. You cross the railway tracks on an overpass and just after the tracks is Prince Avenue where you again go left. Head one block to North Railway Street and bear left once more. You have the railway tracks to your right as you drive and then turn right on Highway 41A east. At Wood Street you turn right and in one block is the Medalta Potteries. There are signs to follow to make these directions easier.

The building now houses an industrial museum and art gallery. Tours and workshops are offered and once you have finished your tour, visit the large gift shop which sells all their pottery.

As you leave Medicine Hat going west, get onto Highway 3. At the west end of the city you will pass Holsom Road which leads to Echo Dale Park. In 20 km from Holsom Road turn left on SH 887S to go to the Red Rock Natural Area also called Red Rock Coulee. The road is paved and at km 24.7 from the highway it curves to your left. However, you continue 1.8 km ahead on the gravel road to the small parking area on the right. After walking through the gate, stand and look at the large masses of stone in the coulee.

 

You will be intrigued by the huge, red or reddish-brown rocks that are shaped like gigantic balls with flat tops. These are called concretions and are scattered over a wide field. Many of them have been split in two or more pieces by the elements. While they seem to have been randomly thrown in the coulee, they are actually finely layered, red sandstone boulders emerging, through erosion, from the softer ground around them.

They were formed over 74 million years ago in a shallow sea which covered the area. The reddish color is from hydrous iron oxide or rust.

Just remember as you wander through the rocks that you are in rattlesnake country. And because the soil content is comprised of bentonite (volcanic ash) and clay, which, when mixed with water, forms gumbo (smectite), if it starts to rain get out of the field as quickly as possible. You could sink in the soil up to 8 cm or even slip and fall on the gel‑like surface.

Back on Highway 3 and heading west, you will reach Bow Island in 35 kms.  

New Beginnings - Barbara Baker

 

 

I tied my manuscript up in an electronic bow and sent the final version off to BWL Publishing. Let me tell you, there were days during the last edit when I had panic attacks about practise and practice, passed and past—had I used the correct one? Two periods should have been question marks and three commas should have been periods but finally, Jillian of Banff XO was done and will be released on July 1^st, 2024.

I thought writing The End was my goodbye to Jillian and I was excited to see what story would be next. But damn her. While I was enjoying a perfect spring ski day with gorgeous blue skies and slushy snow, Jillian popped into my head and would not leave. 

 

She’s a few years older now, a bit more worldly and … very persistent. So, I skied faster. But Jillian was relentless. And when I finally couldn’t take her badgering any longer, we agreed to try another book. I already love the opening scene. 

My fictional character, Jillian, is like a favourite child who wants to spend more time with me so I will see where her story takes me this time. I’m sure she’ll be tapping me on the shoulder with more suggestions while I’m out and about but that’s enough about Jillian for now.

After a great ski day, there’s still lots of daylight hours to see what spring is up to—who’s blooming, who’s sunning themselves and who’s busy mating.

Of course, the crocus leads the bloomfest and no one ever said, “You have too many crocus pictures.”

 

Painted turtles are my next big find. They stretch out on logs to dry the itchy shit off their shells which accumulated after spending months under water. Turtles go into a state called brumation in the winter—their metabolism slows down; they go without food for months and absorb oxygen from water through their skin ... their version of hibernation. 

  

After cleaning the winter debris from my flowerbeds, I turned the garden hose on and the tiniest ball of fluff hopped out from a patch of tall ornamental grass. It was a very wet baby hare. I knew not to touch it, so I stood back and guarded it in case a raven or hawk flew by. After the youngster dried off in the sun, it hopped back into its nest. 

 

I Googled hares and learned the babies are called leverets. What? Chicks, fawns, cubs … how come they get cute names, and a hare gets stuck with leveret? Apparently, it means ‘a young hare’ in French but it still doesn’t seem fair. 

Unlike rabbits, hares are born with a full body of fur, their eyes are open, and they can survive on their own a few hours after birth. The young have no scent and Mom only comes back once every 24 hours to feed them for a few minutes, so she doesn’t leave her scent in the nest. No wonder she's okay with mating again while she’s nursing. Parenting seems to be pretty easy for hares. 

 

Next fun find in the spring is garter snake balls. The snakes slither out of their dens when the ground warms up and congregate in balls for warmth and sex … a lot of sex. The female lets off a sex pheromone and males rush to please her.

As many as a hundred males will attempt to mate with a single female. It’s an athletic endeavour and they get all crazy and hence, the mating ball is formed. During this orgy, male snakes go without food and show no signs of aggression until after they’ve mated. How gentlemanly of them.

I’ll leave you with these visuals because there is such a thing as too many snake pictures.   

  

There's almost two months before Jillian of Banff XO is available. What fun activities do you plan for your book release days?

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

Spring Ahead with Trivia - Barbara Baker

 

Goodbye winter. Hello spring. Another round of setting clocks ahead is behind us as well as all the rant on social media about why we continue with this practice. Some people blame farmers for screwing with our circadian rhythm, but they're not the culprits. Cows and crops rely on the sun. Not clocks. Maybe that’s why Saskatchewan ignores time change.

In 1895, George Hudson, an entomologist, made the first attempt to introduce time change. He wanted the world to go ahead two hours in the spring so he could hunt bugs in daylight after his day-job ended. He was unsuccessful with his request.

Time change kicked in during WW1 and WW2 to optimize daylight hours and conserve energy. After each war, it was up to jurisdictions to decide whether they stuck with it. In the winter of 1974, permanent daylight-saving time came into play and children started walking to school in the dark. Hello logic.

But now I’m over time change and have moved onto hello spring. The hunt for the first crocus, first dandelion sighting and of course watching birds as they construct or renovate their nests.   

I checked some of my favourite nesting sites. Unfortunately, the great horned owl's home was gone. When I found the pile of sticks scattered at the base of the tree, my heart sank. Great horned owl parents raised their fuzzy owlets here for over a decade.

I went down the Google rabbit hole to determine whether owls rebuild in the same place. What I read, shocked me. Owls typically do not build their own nest. What? How did I not know this? They apparently take over a suitable nest from another bird and spruce it up to their liking. I’m a huge owl fan. Should I think less of them for being opportunists? Or more of them for conserving their energy?

Later that day I discovered owls aren't the only opportunists. A ballsy Canadian Goose honked at me from it's perch high in the tree. Last spring a bald eagle lived there with an unobstructed view of the Bow River. Maybe I have never given geese enough credit. Maybe they are smart.  

But the first flight for her goslings will be a true test of wing power.

Geese can be cheeky buggers.

And the bald eagle moved on, seemingly unperturbed about the nest thief.

Cowbirds don’t steal nests. They merely deposit their eggs in an already furnished home. If the eggs in the nest she selects are white with beige specks, the cowbird will lay her eggs with the exact same colour pattern.

After the cowbird lays her eggs (sometimes as many as six) in the unsuspecting nest of, let’s say, Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird, she might peck tiny holes in the host’s eggs. This way her chicks won’t have to compete for food or attention. When Mrs. Cowbird leaves, she doesn’t go far. She sticks around for a while to keep an eye on her eggs.

Mrs. Cowbird may be a negligent mom, but she wants to make sure Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird has adequate mothering skills. If she dares to push out any of Mrs. Cowbird’s eggs, well, female cowbirds have a way of getting even. She will return to the nest when it’s unattended and toss out the original eggs.

When Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird proves she’s a worthy foster mother, Mrs. Cowbird flies away to enjoy her freedom. In just a few weeks, she’ll flit her wings at another dashing male cowbird and the process repeats itself. As for her young, they grow up knowing they're cowbirds without their mother ever being around.

Nature is fun and funny. 

And Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humour. She can still turn on the snow-switch randomly for a few more months.

 

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

Gone to the Dogs - Barbara Baker

 

 

I grew up in a tiny place east of Banff. It was not large enough to be given hamlet status – hence they called us ‘a community.’ But it was the best place for a kid to grow up. There were no fences, no streetlights and once in a while we saw a car. Playing in the woods started at the end of our driveway.

And our family always had a dog. In fact, most families in our community had one.

When I played outside, I knew which dogs to avoid, which ones not to run from, and those who were sure to follow me home. Dog poop bags were not a thing back then. Having said that, I do not recall stepping in dog poop. Ever. But I am positive dogs still pooped.

Fast forward to 2024 – with spring coming and the freeze-thaw going on, I find loaded dog poop bags hanging off fences, branches or scattered on the side of walkways and trails.

It's wonderful that our urban and rural areas have gorgeous parks with off-leash and on-leash areas for dogs and green spaces scattered throughout neighbourhoods. There is signage, poop bag dispensers and garbage cans at most pathway entrances. Do the signs, which ask you to ‘pick up after your dog,’ really need another line added ‘and put it in the appropriate disposal bin?’ because if that is all it will take, I can get on it.

It’s annoying to find these deposits on city walkways and open spaces but when I find them hanging off spruce boughs or perched on a rock beside a hiking trail in our provincial and national parks, my piss-me-off meter escalates. Do the owners really think there are dog-poop-picker-upper fairies?

Yes, I realize the offenders had good intentions of picking it up on their return trip but it seems many dog walkers got distracted and forgot. Maybe they received a phone call telling them they won the lottery … or maybe their brother’s wife’s cousin had a baby. It’s possible, I guess. I remain hopeful these dog owners, who leave the poop behind, quit making responsible dog owners look bad.

Google says under perfect conditions, the compostable bags will deteriorate in up to 60 days. The ordinary plastic bags decompose in 20+ years. Thank you, Google.

Never in my life did I think I’d write about dog poop. Yet here I am, doing just that. And the issue is not the dog’s fault. The owners are the ones who need to attend obedience class.

When did my collection of sunrise pictures change to photos of poop bags?

I told my six-year-old grandson about this blog and asked him what he thought a 'dog-poop-picker-upper fairy' might look like. This is what he drew. Yup, all those extensions are fairy arms, doing their job.

Sometimes I miss the carefree old days when dog poop was not an issue. For now, I will step off my soap box, and go outside to find another sunrise … and I will never speak of this again. 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

When the Polar Vortex Hit Alberta - By Barbara Baker

Day 1 - My thermometer reads minus 37 Celsius. I can’t complain though. Global News warned us for a week that a Polar Vortex was about to hit Alberta. Initially, I doubted them, but they were pretty insistent, so yesterday I did a grocery run just in case they got it right this time.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate winter. In fact one of the aspects I enjoy is being able to put on layers of clothing to stay warm, whereas in summer, if it gets too hot there are only so many layers I can take off before it gets offensive to those around me.

In the afternoon I watch Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond and Johnny Reid music videos while I get 10,000 steps on the elliptical. The evening news stresses the dangers of frostbite, lists the closed ski resorts and posts a city map of all the warming shelters set up for both people and pets.

Day 2 - I marvel at the accuracy of the forecast. Highs of minus 33. After regular tasks are done, I organize miscellaneous drawers. Glancing out the living room window where chickadees and nuthatches take turns at the feeder, I wonder when and how we managed to accumulate this much clutter.

I add Meatloaf’s “Bat Out of Hell” and “Hot Summer Night” to my music videos and do a cardio workout in the basement.

Friends vacationing or living in warmer places send pictures of large iguanas, green grass and sandy beach sunsets. I reply with frozen emojis.

Day 3 – The afternoon high will get to minus 31.  I check the tidy drawers before I tackle a day of housecleaning. I want to be ready for the ski hills when they reopen. Because of active cleaning I only need 4,650 steps on the elliptical. I add Jelly Roll’s “Save Me” to my music videos.

Day 4 – It’s minus 34. I need to get out of the house. And we’re out of coffee. Since the store is only eight blocks away, I dress in my warmest gear – snow pants, thick scarf, down mitts, long parka, fuzzy toque, unattractive winter boots and goggles. I put my wallet on the chair and turn to take a quick check in the mirror. No exposed skin. Perfect.

I take off on my coffee run.

When I step outside, even with the scarf over my mouth and nose, I gasp and hunch my shoulders forward against the brisk breeze. My goggles fog up instantly forcing me to exhale into my collar.

Snow squeaks with each step. Crosswalks glazed with white ice require penguin-style walking. There is no one on the street or sidewalk. When I crest the hill, the wind increases. I scrape frost off my goggles as tires screech to a stop next to me. 

“Do you need a ride?” someone shouts.

“No, I’m good,” I holler back.

“It’s really cold,” they caution me.

I wave them on. What a friendly soul and possibly a rocket scientist.

Almost there.

The automatic door screeches open slowly. Once inside, I shake hard to let warm air circulate through to my skin. There is no coffee on sale so I grab the cheapest box.

At the till the clerk scans it as I search for my wallet. So many layers. So many pockets. None of which hide my wallet. I stare at the clerk like maybe she knows where I put it. She smiles and waits. I search again and pull out my phone.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my wallet.” I look at my phone and back to her. “Can I pay with an e-transfer?”

She shakes her head. “You can tap it with a credit or debit card.”

“Yeah, I don’t have that set-up.”

She puts the box of coffee on the shelf behind her and I head back outside. How could I forget my wallet? On the way home, I stay warm by chastising myself for being forgetful. I blame it on aging. Oh well. It was a gallant effort on my part, and I got aired. Maybe I can drink tea. No. That will never happen.

The house door squeals when I open it. And there sits my wallet. Right where I left it - on the chair by the mirror.

“I found coffee and toilet paper in the basement in our tornado-COVID stash,” my husband calls out. “It’s past the best-before-date.”

“How far past?” I hang up all my layers.

“January 2020. Google says it might taste a bit weaker, but it shouldn’t kill us.”

“Good to know.”

How sweet is he that he knows I’m anal about expiry dates? A healthy helping of expired alfalfa sprouts did it to me forty-five years ago.

Day 5 – Google was right. We didn’t die from the expired coffee and the news promises the Arctic Vortex will pass in a few days. Ski hills are still on standby or closed.

A brisk walk outside and then more time on the elliptical. I add “The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed to my music collection. Totally stepping out of my comfort zone, but damn he does an amazing job with the song.

I pull out a puzzle from Christmas and we assemble the border. I organize the pieces into colour trays. 500 pieces. Wow. The cold snap can’t end soon enough.

Alberta Alert announces rotating power outages. We bring in firewood and find flashlights.

Relatives in Germany message to see if we are okay.

Day 6 – A repeat of Day 5 with minimal puzzle progress.

Day 7 – I wake up to a balmy minus 15. Hallelujah. There is now a snowfall warning in our forecast. I put the puzzle away for the next cold snap and pull our ski bag closer to the door.

Take that Polar Vortex.

See you next time.

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books