Revisiting the Northwest Mounted Police Trail — Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society

Trail Marker, Fort Walsh to Wood Mountain trail. Photo courtesy of Matthew Anderson.

Once you start walking, you want to keep going.

It all began in 2015 when Matthew Anderson and Hugh Henry organized a small group to walk from Wood Mountain to Fort Walsh, following markers set out by Everett Baker to mark the Northwest Mounted Police Trail. Before that, it was known as ‘Traders Road’ and was the route worn into the land between trading posts. Before that, it would have been known by other names in the languages of the Metis, Lakota, Gros Ventres, Assiniboine, Blackfoot, and others.

Since 2015, you can usually find a group of walkers somewhere across Saskatchewan sometime during the summer, learning about the land and the people who call it home.

Walking in 2017, Swift Current to Battleford Trail.

It’s an eclectic group that laces up the hiking boots. Some plan the walk around their jobs. Some are retired. Some are students. We have scientists, historians, librarians, clergy, educators, technicians, academics, artists, musicians, medical professionals, writers, and poets. We bring a variety of interests: birding, plant identification, archaeology, history, geography, music, and literature. In 2017 it was the 150th anniversary of Confederation, and we walked with reconciliation in mind. We continue to walk together, mindful that the land was settled by newcomers at the expense of those who first called it home.

Amid the restrictions of a pandemic, 2020 became the year we re-visited parts of the NWMP or Traders Trail. We packed our hand sanitizer and used walking sticks to approximate 2 metres. We counted on the hot sun to sterilize, and the prairie wind to disperse aerosols, and we set off to follow the series of historic markers.

Saskatchewan Mountain

Pinto Butte is considered a ‘mountain’ in Saskatchewan, with an elevation of about a thousand metres. Not much of it is cultivated. The soil is too thin to be disturbed, and the rocks are too plentiful for machinery to work it. The cattle like it just the way it is. Our walk took us southwest, toward the Frenchman River. We started at the top and went downhill, generally speaking. On the ground, however, ridges run across the trail. They’re gentle slopes, so it’s not a big deal; except there’s another ridge, and another after that one, and…You look back, and yes, you are descending, but it doesn’t feel like it. And you wonder why everyone insists that Saskatchewan is flat.

Walking southwest from Pinto Butte, August 2020. Photo courtesy of Kristin Enns-Kavanagh.

Rocks, Rocks, and More Rocks

The area is dotted with rock piles. On the prairie, a rock pile is never just a rock pile. Look closely. They’re low mounds, filled with stones the size of an open hand. Around the perimeter could be some bigger boulders. Are there one or two boulders with distinctive colours? Are they likely to be positioned at cardinal points? Why would anyone start a rock pile here when this land has never been broken?

Photo courtesy of Kristin Enns-Kavanagh.

That’s no ordinary rock pile. It’s a cairn, and it’s a reminder that this land hasn’t always been pasture. The cairn might mean that this is a good camping spot. It might mean there’s a spring nearby. It might represent an animal. It might be part of another rock arrangement that is ceremonial and sacred. Archaeologists make guesses, but they don’t know for sure. That specialized knowledge was lost when Indigenous groups were forced to leave this area, and then confined to reserves. Sitting Bull and his people camped on Pinto Butte for a while, asking to live north of the Medicine Line. Maybe the cairns helped them read the land so this area could be a refuge for them. Maybe they heard encouragement from these Grandfathers. We don’t know. But be assured: it’s more than just a pile of rocks.

A Risky Land

Every place has risks, and Southwest Saskatchewan has hazards that are unique. The Frenchman Valley is the right habitat for prairie rattlesnakes. They’re sensitive to vibrations, so when a dozen people traipse through their space, they get out of the way and don’t usually bother anyone, unless they feel threatened.

Covid was very much a part of our walk. Some didn’t join us this time because of travel restrictions or because of the risk. Some joined later, waiting for test results to say it was safe. We masked when sharing vehicles. We didn’t pass around snacks during breaks the way we usually do. We know that Covid isn’t the first epidemic in this country, thanks to James Daschuk’s scholarship in Clearing the Plains. We were thankful for the precautions we could take to prevent illness among ourselves, and in the communities we visited. Those who walked this land before us weren’t as fortunate.

Extreme heat had a huge impact on our walk. The first three days we were in the vicinity of Val Marie, which often sees the hottest temperatures in Canada. Water, sunscreen, hats, and salty snacks were essential.

This is a land that absorbs heat, especially through those rocks that are everywhere, and then reflects it back. The Bear Paw Sea Trail in Grasslands National Park is rated as ‘difficult’. It’s hard to anticipate what those difficulties might be when you can see all the way to your destination from the starting point. The numerous climbs up and down steep coulees aren’t obvious until you’re out there. Cell coverage isn’t reliable. There’s no access for vehicles to provide support. Once you go beyond a certain point, you have to be prepared to finish the route, or become a burden to the other walkers. Some wisely chose to turn back.

Bear Paw Sea Trail, Grasslands National Park, August 2020. Photo courtesy of Louise Halfe.

Environment Canada shows Val Marie Southeast Station recorded 37.6 C that day. There is no wind speed recorded. You can imagine the relief when walkers came over the last ridge to see the vehicles. You can imagine the gratitude for the driver who walked out to meet them with extra water, words of encouragement, and offering to carry a pack that became just too much for that final stretch.

Saskatchewan is a land of extremes. Temperatures of 40 C can happen in both summer and winter, but at opposite ends of the scale. It’s a sparsely populated land whose residents know their lives depend on their neighbours. Communities here know they have to take care of each other, whether it’s through illness, accidents, fire, weather, or isolation. It takes too long for help to come from other places. In this part of the country, we look out for each other.

Weather Mystery

The day we walked through the Frenchman Valley using the Stone Pile Crossing felt a little cooler, but we figured it was because there was lots of wind.

Stone Pile Crossing, August 2020. Photo courtesy of author.

It’s mid-way between weather stations at Eastend and Val Marie. Environment Canada records for that day show Eastend registered a cool 30.2 C, while Val Marie remained hot at 35.4 C.

We were also under light cloud. That, along with the 50 km wind meant the heat was bearable. After we crossed the river, I could see clear sky ahead, in the west, and knew we could expect more heat as it moved toward us, or we moved toward it.

But we never got to that clear sky. Even when we reached Highway 37, the cloud hung to the north and west. Coming out from behind the walls of the valley, we could see clear sky to the south, while the cloud cover persisted to the north.

Of course! The weather always changes at the valley. A drive from Frontier to Swift Current can mean weather changes at the Frenchman River, and again south of Gull Lake as you come down from ‘The Bench’. It’s one of those things you get used to after you’ve lived here for a while.

Frenchman River Valley, August 2020. Photo courtesy of author.

Still More Rocks

The extreme southwest corner of Saskatchewan is sparsely populated. This land just won’t support a dense population of humans or animals. But it has lots of rocks.

Rocks, stones, boulders, erratics, gravel – they’re all varieties of the same element. If there are too many rocks, that piece of land doesn’t get farmed. Rocks and rock piles are landmarks. Circles embedded in the earth mean someone pitched a tent here for a while. There are other circles, where the rocks are at regular intervals; or contain lines of more rocks running through the circle. These were likely places for spiritual searching or giving thanks for the abundance of life that hides in this rocky, barren landscape.

When I see a stone off in the distance, I’m drawn toward it. There was a white boulder slightly higher than the cattle trail we were following. I followed another walker to look at it more closely. A little higher were more rocks, muted in colour, so they didn’t draw the eye. They were set in a circle, each rock a metre or so from the next, but very clearly forming a circle.

Rocks at sunset, Grasslands National Park, 2020. Photo courtesy of Kristin Enns-Kavanagh.

It was a surprise to find this arrangement, and I wondered what might be at the top of the valley. That’s where rock arrangements are usually found, where they provide stunning views of the landscape. Tucked away on the side of this hill was something significant, but again, we don’t know what that significance is. The stories, ceremonies, and teachings connected with such places have been lost because those who knew them were prevented from returning and passing them on to the next generations.

For a few minutes, my walking companion stood in that circle, and felt a connection with her ancestors. That is significant.

Again With the Rocks

‘We’ll start at the farm where the Mystery Rocks are, then hike to the Cypress Hills Massacre site, and from there to Fort Walsh. It’s about 4 miles on the map, but with having to go up and down a few hills, it’ll be a little more.’ I’m paraphrasing Hugh’s description of the last day. In reality, it felt more like 8 miles, almost all of it going uphill!

Mystery rocks. Photo courtesy of author.

The Mystery Rocks are a wonder. The Grandfathers. At one time, they might have been one solid sheet of rock, but cracks developed, and they have consistent lines of separation between them. There are depressions where water pools. There are patterns visible in exposed edges, almost like the grain in wood. There are the predictable initials carved. Some walkers scampered over them, exploring. Others walked around, feeling it was something to revere, not to touch.

Massacre Site

We could see the reconstructed trading posts half an hour before we reached them, and thought of them as another marker toward completing our walk for this year. Other years, the posts would be staffed with interpreters to tell us what happened here. We peeked through the windows at items that would have been traded in 1873. This year, there was just the Parks Canada sign. As the wind whistled around our ears, we looked across Battle Creek at the place where a camp of Nakoda people were killed. Alcohol, trade, theft, racism, fear, greed. It looks peaceful and pretty, but an ugly story happened here. We let the wind speak to it.

This site is the reason for the trail we revisited. This massacre highlighted the need for ‘law and order’. Because of this event, Fort Walsh was built close by. It was meant to bring ‘law and order’ and establish a Canadian presence. It‘s a place where displaced and starving Indigenous people came looking for help. It’s a place where the federal government insisted treaties would be signed, or there would be no rations.

A Beautiful Place With A Complicated Story

This is a beautiful corner of the province with a complicated story. It can be a harsh environment, with a human history that is even harsher. We become more aware of it as we walk, as we point out to each other the things we notice along the way.

Our walk for 2020 was complete as we stumbled to the parking lot at Fort Walsh. We were tired. We were thankful for each other’s company. We were a little more aware of the complexity of the story of this land. We take that awareness with us into the next 12 months to inform the things we do, until we walk again.

Grasslands National Park, 2020. Photo courtesy of Kristin Enns-Kavanagh.

CONNIE SYKES lives in Frontier where she teaches and works with the United Church. She spends as much time as possible hiking in Grasslands National Park, or walking down dirt roads.

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