An Alberta Redneck Weekend
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 19,680
Likes: 161
From: Calgary, AB, CANADA
An Alberta Redneck Weekend
(This got too long, had to break it into two posts...)
We've had a great summer of camping and I've shared a few pictures from some of our trips such as Dinosaur Provincial Park, but this past Labour Day weekend was perhaps one of the most interesting; not necessarily because of the location or the scenery, both of which were great, but more due to some of the events and activities.
Want to see Swivel get back to his redneck roots? Read on...
We drove about 200km Northeast of home to camp at some private land near Big Valley, AB. You C&W fans probably know about -- or have attended -- the Big Valley Jamboree. Well we actually camped on the West side of the valley for which this small town is presumably named. The landscape is a bit like the Alberta Badlands some of you may have seen in my Dinosaur Provincial Park thread, and steep roads lead down from both sides to a one-lane steel girder bridge.
Once we set up camp and 'refreshed' ourselves with some Prairie Lube (aka Big Rock beer), we settled in for some campfire lounging. As the crystal-clear, moonless skies darkened, we were treated to spectacular views as can only be seen far from the city lights. The Milky Way cut a wide, glowing arc over our heads, punctuated by the Summer Triangle of Altair, Deneb and Vega. Between Cassiopeia and Andromeda, I was able to make out -- with the naked eye -- the cottony smudge of the Andromeda Galaxy. Now THAT is what I call a dark sky. I walked the telescope down the hill, away from the campfire and enjoyed a spectacular view of this, our closest neighbouring galaxy, along with striped Jupiter and its four diamond-bright Galilean moons.
I only turned back to camp after several minutes of wondering whether that rustle in the nearby bushes was something smaller than me, or larger...and perhaps with sharp teeth.
Saturday dawned clear, bright and cool. At mid-morning we were all still sitting around the campfire enjoying our last sips of coffee, and smelling the tantalizing aroma of outdoor bacon and eggs, when from the valley below we heard a massive sound like God's Own Kettle Drum. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds. I twigged first..."Somebody hit the bridge!"
My cousin Matt grabbed the first aid kit and we all sprinted down to the valley's edge. Another great clang, had the vehicle tumbled to the valley floor? Peering over the edge, I could make out that it was not as serious as all that. A semi with a gooseneck, hauling some large tanks to Saskatchewan had miscalculated the 4.5 metre bridge clearance by perhaps a half-metre, and despite a cautious approach of 10 km/h or so, was firmly wedged beneath the first cross-girder of the bridge. A bridge, by the way, that had only been opened the day before after two weeks of previous repairs.
With some help and ingenuity of an experienced old hand -- aka my Dad -- they were able to let down the trailer, back the truck out and clear the bridge. We all returned to camp and ate cold egg sandwiches.
Now my wife's uncle is a former Canadian Forces gunsmith and collector. If you ask him how many guns he has, he'll only answer "If ya know how many guns ya have, then ya don't have enough..." He had brought a few of his toys, including a Ruger .22 rifle, 22-250 high-powered varmint gun, black powder muzzle loader, and my personal fave, a .300 Winchester Magnum.
Both Saturday and Sunday we spent some time severely disturbing the peace of the Big Valley. Everyone did a bit of shooting, including (or I should more accurately say especially) my 11-year old son and 10-year old daughter, Mrs. Swivel, my Dad and even my Mom. Yeah, those roots are showing now.
A rock-steady natural shooter, Emma drilled the target five shots in a row before running out of shells in the clip. Note the two-finger trigger technique:
The highlight of my weekend was shooting the Magnum. Great photo here by my bro-in-law; note the muzzle blast. I suspect he paid for this shot with a bit of hearing loss. Unless you've experienced it firsthand, it's hard to conceive the sound and fury of a high-powered rifle. Oh yeah, it was good for me...
Funny story...Dennis had dialed in the 22-250 at 25 yeards, then at 100 yards, so, satisfied that it was safe to shoot, a few of us took some shots at a smaller metal target. About 2"x2", it was a challenge and when I took my shots, it moved a little each time, but I put it down to the concussion of a passing 45-grain hollow-point moving at some 4000 feet per second. Others wiggled it, too, but nobody seemed to be able to nail the thing.
Much later, Dennis retrieved it from the range:
I guess we weren't as inept as we thought.
Having created some half-inch holes in targets with the .50 cal muzzle-loader, I took a break from Sunday's shooting to unload the morning's coffee and reload with an afternoon beer. As I returned to our 'range', Keith Red in hand, what should be parked in our camp but an RCMP cruiser. I set my beer down and sauntered over, more than a little concerned that one or more people were going for a ride with the good officer, perhaps including me for contributing to the delinquency of minors by letting them shoot the living bejesus out of stuff.
But when I heard the laughter, I began to think things might be okay and I would not, in fact, end up in the Big Valley jail (actually, I did spend time there, I'll get the pic if I can from my Mom).
The guns are all registered, Dennis is permitted to own them (I am, too, come to that) and we were on private land so the officer was only concerned that we were shooting safely and not, as the people in the campground across the river feared, at the water or in their general direction. Seeing the range setup, the safety gear, and learning we had several experienced shooters supervising, Officer Harris declined the invitation to break out the Glock and join in, saying "No, thanks, I don't want to embarrass myself" (hence the laughter) and bade us good day. He was very cool about the whole deal, but I still chuckle at the thought of having for once been "those people" on whom others call the cops. I can't blame them a bit; if I'd heard the racket that we were making and not known who was doing it, where, and in what direction, I'd have been a little concerned, too.
To be continued...
We've had a great summer of camping and I've shared a few pictures from some of our trips such as Dinosaur Provincial Park, but this past Labour Day weekend was perhaps one of the most interesting; not necessarily because of the location or the scenery, both of which were great, but more due to some of the events and activities.
Want to see Swivel get back to his redneck roots? Read on...
We drove about 200km Northeast of home to camp at some private land near Big Valley, AB. You C&W fans probably know about -- or have attended -- the Big Valley Jamboree. Well we actually camped on the West side of the valley for which this small town is presumably named. The landscape is a bit like the Alberta Badlands some of you may have seen in my Dinosaur Provincial Park thread, and steep roads lead down from both sides to a one-lane steel girder bridge.
Once we set up camp and 'refreshed' ourselves with some Prairie Lube (aka Big Rock beer), we settled in for some campfire lounging. As the crystal-clear, moonless skies darkened, we were treated to spectacular views as can only be seen far from the city lights. The Milky Way cut a wide, glowing arc over our heads, punctuated by the Summer Triangle of Altair, Deneb and Vega. Between Cassiopeia and Andromeda, I was able to make out -- with the naked eye -- the cottony smudge of the Andromeda Galaxy. Now THAT is what I call a dark sky. I walked the telescope down the hill, away from the campfire and enjoyed a spectacular view of this, our closest neighbouring galaxy, along with striped Jupiter and its four diamond-bright Galilean moons.
I only turned back to camp after several minutes of wondering whether that rustle in the nearby bushes was something smaller than me, or larger...and perhaps with sharp teeth.
Saturday dawned clear, bright and cool. At mid-morning we were all still sitting around the campfire enjoying our last sips of coffee, and smelling the tantalizing aroma of outdoor bacon and eggs, when from the valley below we heard a massive sound like God's Own Kettle Drum. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds. I twigged first..."Somebody hit the bridge!"
My cousin Matt grabbed the first aid kit and we all sprinted down to the valley's edge. Another great clang, had the vehicle tumbled to the valley floor? Peering over the edge, I could make out that it was not as serious as all that. A semi with a gooseneck, hauling some large tanks to Saskatchewan had miscalculated the 4.5 metre bridge clearance by perhaps a half-metre, and despite a cautious approach of 10 km/h or so, was firmly wedged beneath the first cross-girder of the bridge. A bridge, by the way, that had only been opened the day before after two weeks of previous repairs.
With some help and ingenuity of an experienced old hand -- aka my Dad -- they were able to let down the trailer, back the truck out and clear the bridge. We all returned to camp and ate cold egg sandwiches.
Now my wife's uncle is a former Canadian Forces gunsmith and collector. If you ask him how many guns he has, he'll only answer "If ya know how many guns ya have, then ya don't have enough..." He had brought a few of his toys, including a Ruger .22 rifle, 22-250 high-powered varmint gun, black powder muzzle loader, and my personal fave, a .300 Winchester Magnum.
Both Saturday and Sunday we spent some time severely disturbing the peace of the Big Valley. Everyone did a bit of shooting, including (or I should more accurately say especially) my 11-year old son and 10-year old daughter, Mrs. Swivel, my Dad and even my Mom. Yeah, those roots are showing now.
A rock-steady natural shooter, Emma drilled the target five shots in a row before running out of shells in the clip. Note the two-finger trigger technique:
The highlight of my weekend was shooting the Magnum. Great photo here by my bro-in-law; note the muzzle blast. I suspect he paid for this shot with a bit of hearing loss. Unless you've experienced it firsthand, it's hard to conceive the sound and fury of a high-powered rifle. Oh yeah, it was good for me...
Funny story...Dennis had dialed in the 22-250 at 25 yeards, then at 100 yards, so, satisfied that it was safe to shoot, a few of us took some shots at a smaller metal target. About 2"x2", it was a challenge and when I took my shots, it moved a little each time, but I put it down to the concussion of a passing 45-grain hollow-point moving at some 4000 feet per second. Others wiggled it, too, but nobody seemed to be able to nail the thing.
Much later, Dennis retrieved it from the range:
I guess we weren't as inept as we thought.
Having created some half-inch holes in targets with the .50 cal muzzle-loader, I took a break from Sunday's shooting to unload the morning's coffee and reload with an afternoon beer. As I returned to our 'range', Keith Red in hand, what should be parked in our camp but an RCMP cruiser. I set my beer down and sauntered over, more than a little concerned that one or more people were going for a ride with the good officer, perhaps including me for contributing to the delinquency of minors by letting them shoot the living bejesus out of stuff.
But when I heard the laughter, I began to think things might be okay and I would not, in fact, end up in the Big Valley jail (actually, I did spend time there, I'll get the pic if I can from my Mom).
The guns are all registered, Dennis is permitted to own them (I am, too, come to that) and we were on private land so the officer was only concerned that we were shooting safely and not, as the people in the campground across the river feared, at the water or in their general direction. Seeing the range setup, the safety gear, and learning we had several experienced shooters supervising, Officer Harris declined the invitation to break out the Glock and join in, saying "No, thanks, I don't want to embarrass myself" (hence the laughter) and bade us good day. He was very cool about the whole deal, but I still chuckle at the thought of having for once been "those people" on whom others call the cops. I can't blame them a bit; if I'd heard the racket that we were making and not known who was doing it, where, and in what direction, I'd have been a little concerned, too.
To be continued...
Last edited by Swivel; Sep 7, 2010 at 04:38 PM.
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 19,680
Likes: 161
From: Calgary, AB, CANADA
Part Two...
After gorging ourselves on beer-can chicken Sunday night, we settled in for our last evening around the fire. Well-fed and evidently a little bored of grown-up conversation, my darling daughter had the brilliant idea that she should steer the wood-wagon down the hill. A short run and some pretty low tires meant she couldn't acquire much speed, which suited me fine. But of course, someone managed to locate an air compressor, start the wagon much farther up the hill, and the Wood Wagon Derby was on. Two kids, then two kids and an adult, then the adult standing up (not me, for once), people went careening down the hill, swerving to miss firepits and fenceposts in the growing darkness.
But of course, it's no fun until someone gets hurt. So naturally MY two kids loaded 'er up one more time, came barrel-assing down the hill and spang into a fencepost, launching both of them out the front of the wagon -- narrowly missing said post, thank God -- and onto the grass, the elder using the younger as cushioning against the hard ground. Well luckily the only casualty was a mildly sprained thumb and ten years off the lives of me and their Mom, both of whom had sprung from the fireside and were onscene before the dust had cleared.
By my firm decree, thus endeth the Wood Wagon Derby.
We woke up Monday to frost, and The Boy mentioned it had been 'pretty cold' in his tent the previous night. I'll bet it was.
We reluctantly broke camp and made our way to Dry Island Buffalo jump. There are four such sites in Alberta, where at various times in the past three millennia aboriginal tribes contrived to drive bison over cliffs to their death in the quest for the meat, hides, bone and horn of these then-plentiful beasts.
The Red Deer river flows through this valley where once native tribes would have lived, and -- much earlier -- dinosaurs roamed.
This particular jump is a bit unusual in that it's nearly 45 metres in height, as opposed to the 8-15 metres of most other jumps. Standing, looking over the edge, I was glad not to be a spooked bison running full-tilt into thin air and looking at nothing but the unforgiving ground over 100 feet below. I can't help but think a lot of meat got ruined, but a single jump would have provided more than enough goods to get through a winter. Evidence showed this jump had been used at least four times between 700 and 2800 years ago, so it's not like they did one every Tuesday night.
To backtrack a little, my Mom, Dad and I went into the town of Big Valley. I was pleasantly surprised to find some fascinating things there:
An outdoor rail museum of sorts. Now THAT is a snowplow:
As it happened, the Alberta Prairie Railway was in the stop when we were there, so I snapped a couple of shots.
I was disappointed that the loco was diesel and not steam, but you can't have it all, I guess. Much cleaner mode of travel for the passengers, anyway, none of then was covered in soot and ash.
Couple random shots. If you're out this way or live nearby, it's worth a visit.
Some shootin', some drinkin', some wreckin', and some history. Now that's an Alberta Redneck weekend.
After gorging ourselves on beer-can chicken Sunday night, we settled in for our last evening around the fire. Well-fed and evidently a little bored of grown-up conversation, my darling daughter had the brilliant idea that she should steer the wood-wagon down the hill. A short run and some pretty low tires meant she couldn't acquire much speed, which suited me fine. But of course, someone managed to locate an air compressor, start the wagon much farther up the hill, and the Wood Wagon Derby was on. Two kids, then two kids and an adult, then the adult standing up (not me, for once), people went careening down the hill, swerving to miss firepits and fenceposts in the growing darkness.
But of course, it's no fun until someone gets hurt. So naturally MY two kids loaded 'er up one more time, came barrel-assing down the hill and spang into a fencepost, launching both of them out the front of the wagon -- narrowly missing said post, thank God -- and onto the grass, the elder using the younger as cushioning against the hard ground. Well luckily the only casualty was a mildly sprained thumb and ten years off the lives of me and their Mom, both of whom had sprung from the fireside and were onscene before the dust had cleared.
By my firm decree, thus endeth the Wood Wagon Derby.
We woke up Monday to frost, and The Boy mentioned it had been 'pretty cold' in his tent the previous night. I'll bet it was.
We reluctantly broke camp and made our way to Dry Island Buffalo jump. There are four such sites in Alberta, where at various times in the past three millennia aboriginal tribes contrived to drive bison over cliffs to their death in the quest for the meat, hides, bone and horn of these then-plentiful beasts.
The Red Deer river flows through this valley where once native tribes would have lived, and -- much earlier -- dinosaurs roamed.
This particular jump is a bit unusual in that it's nearly 45 metres in height, as opposed to the 8-15 metres of most other jumps. Standing, looking over the edge, I was glad not to be a spooked bison running full-tilt into thin air and looking at nothing but the unforgiving ground over 100 feet below. I can't help but think a lot of meat got ruined, but a single jump would have provided more than enough goods to get through a winter. Evidence showed this jump had been used at least four times between 700 and 2800 years ago, so it's not like they did one every Tuesday night.
To backtrack a little, my Mom, Dad and I went into the town of Big Valley. I was pleasantly surprised to find some fascinating things there:
An outdoor rail museum of sorts. Now THAT is a snowplow:
As it happened, the Alberta Prairie Railway was in the stop when we were there, so I snapped a couple of shots.
I was disappointed that the loco was diesel and not steam, but you can't have it all, I guess. Much cleaner mode of travel for the passengers, anyway, none of then was covered in soot and ash.
Couple random shots. If you're out this way or live nearby, it's worth a visit.
Some shootin', some drinkin', some wreckin', and some history. Now that's an Alberta Redneck weekend.
Last edited by Swivel; Sep 7, 2010 at 04:35 PM.
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 19,680
Likes: 161
From: Calgary, AB, CANADA
Derelict Fargo truck near our camp site:
The old railway roundhouse and, in the foreground, the turntable used to switch locomotives end-for-end and point them in the right direction:
A few artifacts from the local museum. I couldn't access Driver from any of these:
Children's dentist chair
Anyone need a haircut?
Our unit on the site:
Disappearing prairie landmark, the grain elevator:
The old railway roundhouse and, in the foreground, the turntable used to switch locomotives end-for-end and point them in the right direction:
A few artifacts from the local museum. I couldn't access Driver from any of these:
Children's dentist chair
Anyone need a haircut?
Our unit on the site:
Disappearing prairie landmark, the grain elevator:
Last edited by Swivel; Sep 7, 2010 at 01:23 PM.
Extremely envious of your weekend, Swivel. LOL at the typewriters and internet access. Beer can chicken and activities that evoke feelings of 'Oh crap, do you think we could get busted for this?' are some of life's greatest underrated little pleasures 
.
When you mentioned seeing the Milky Way and all those constellations, it reminds me of my favorite internet bookmark - NASA's Astronomy Picture of The Day. Extremely low-tech except for the pictures, I've been staring at their amazing photography of the stars since my college days
Astronomy Picture of The Day
Beer, the stars, guns, and being where large masses of people are not. Sounds a lot like perfection.
.When you mentioned seeing the Milky Way and all those constellations, it reminds me of my favorite internet bookmark - NASA's Astronomy Picture of The Day. Extremely low-tech except for the pictures, I've been staring at their amazing photography of the stars since my college days
Astronomy Picture of The Day
Beer, the stars, guns, and being where large masses of people are not. Sounds a lot like perfection.
Joined: Jan 2004
Posts: 21,095
Likes: 47
From: Toronto, GTA north
Great stuff Wayne....
I'm going to have to get my keaster back out there one of these days.
We visited "Head Smashed In" Buffalo Jump the last time we were in Alberta.
I'm going to have to get my keaster back out there one of these days.
We visited "Head Smashed In" Buffalo Jump the last time we were in Alberta.
Great story Wayne! I wish I could write like that.
You all made it home with 20 digits (more or less) then you can call it a good weekend.
You all made it home with 20 digits (more or less) then you can call it a good weekend.
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To make this a truly inspiring thriller, however, I think you should subscribe to some "poetic license" in the future. For example... Part 2 begins with a delicious assault on beer-can chicken otherwise described as "gorging yourselves." Next time, consider leading up to the visit by the RCMP officer with a game of beer-can chicken, a game in which all nearby beer (in cans, of course) is rapidly consumed without hesistation. THEN start the target shooting, and THEN be visited by the RCMP officer- who DOES embarass himself when inevitably forced to draw down on you and open fire... missing everyone as they shuffle drunkenly around the area spouting off Dirty Harry one-liners and returning fire with supercharged urine streams.
Man... now THAT'S the kind of thread I'd subscribe to!
Man... now THAT'S the kind of thread I'd subscribe to!
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 19,680
Likes: 161
From: Calgary, AB, CANADA
^^ Things a little slow down at the ole fire hall today, Eno? Hahaha, good ideas, though. Next time I will attempt to "beer-can-chicken it up" a little.
Oh, and zombies. Gotta have zombies.
Oh, and zombies. Gotta have zombies.
Last edited by Swivel; Sep 7, 2010 at 07:56 PM.
And naked chicks... zombie naked chicks perhaps?
Sorry, totally hijacked an otherwise really nice, down to earth post. Back on topic, I must admit the quality of the photography has got me thinking about an SLR... Really nicely done.
Sorry, totally hijacked an otherwise really nice, down to earth post. Back on topic, I must admit the quality of the photography has got me thinking about an SLR... Really nicely done.
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Joined: Nov 2009
Posts: 205
Likes: 0
From: Toronto
Sounds like a great weekend Wayne (great family bonding trip!) and I love the way you put the whole thing together it made for a very interesting read (nice shooting by the way). By the way rednecks don't write as well as you do! (some don't know how to write period!!). Just a reminder that I'll be in cow town on the 11th to the 16th at the Westin downtown for a Conference so maybe we can hook up for lunch or a beer or something, I'll give you a call? Chris.
Looks like a good weekend, my kids love the Alberta Prairie it passes right behind the outlaws house in Stettler and the girls love when it goes by 
.
Thanks for sharing your weekend.
.Thanks for sharing your weekend.