Writing-on-Stone Provincial Park sits only eight-and-a-half kilometres north of the U.S. border, and you can see Montana's Sweetgrass Hills clearly as you drive up to the park.
The campground and a significant chunk of the park kind of sneak up on you, nestled in a large coulee below the horizon line until you are almost on top of it. The coulee was formed by glacial movement and not the lazy Milk River that runs through it, and the hoodoos that surround the area have been carved out by ages of wind erosion.
Demand for campsites has been high this summer, as camping is an ideal way to get away from home while still maintaining a degree of physical distancing, and not needing to wear a mask while outdoors or around one's own cohort. We had to apply this philosophy in another way, however, when one of Fenya's and Bobby's friends discovered that he had been in contact with someone who tested positive for COVID-19.
Fenya initially took the position of "We aren't coming with you," which was sweet and thoughtful and appropriate, and Audrey and I tried to get tested on Thursday as well. In the end, given all the uncertainty and in weighing the possible physical damage of the virus as opposed to the certain emotional damage of a wrecked vacation, we agreed that they could come but a) in a separate vehicle and b) staying in their own tent instead of the Bride of Frankentrailer. This way, if their friend's new test came back positive, they could take the car back and self-isolate as soon as they heard the results.
As it happens, his test came back negative anyhow, as did the ones we all got in Lethbridge on Tuesday, but I'm still glad we took the precautions we did.
The only real impact on our camping was the fact that the shower building would only permit up to 4 individuals or cohorts at any one time, meaning you might have to wait in a line to use indoor plumbing or wash your hands in hot water. Even these lineups were infrequent though.
The Writing-on-Stone campsite is well treed and, as mentioned, has the Milk River running right through it, with a large sandy beach that we saw a number of people lounging on or playing in. Even without the astonishing geography and amazing cultural elements, it is a campground I would be happy to return to. Our own site was wide enough to allow both the Flex and Corolla to park, and deep enough to pitch the tent on grass instead of gravel. (Note to self: try to get site 63 next time - spacious and secluded, plus a bit closer to the washrooms (but not too close)) My only complaint was the extraordinary amount of aggressive wasps, which even the parks staff thought was unusually pervasive. I got stung on the bottom of my arm while cooking breakfast one morning, a first for me.
Sunday was our first full day in the park so we went to the visitor's centre. It is a wonderfully well-done little museum that bears the Blackfoot name of the area - Áísínai'pi - under which it became a UNESCO World Heritage site just last year. The museum covers both the Blackfoot history of the place as well as settler perspectives but also has a lot of geographical information about the forces that created such an amazing oasis here on the prairies.
After getting a head full of context and meaning from the visitor's centre, we were anxious to see some more of what the park had to offer, so we made our way to the Davis Coulee Viewpoint and prepared to make our way down into the hoodoos to view one of the petroglyphs that give the park its name.
A family was making their way up the trail as we were preparing to descend and their boy said, "There is a rattlesnake just off the trail by the bench."
"Did you see him?" we asked, but he had not.
Sure enough, we had taken just a few steps past the bench beside the gravel trail, when we heard it: an eerie, buzzing rattle that froze us all in our tracks. (We had read that sometimes the snakes will rattle when someone has passed them, and people who jump backwards instinctively are sometimes bitten before they land.)
A lifetime of hearing that ominous sound in shows ranging from classic westerns to mWonderful World of Disney had not adequately prepared me for hearing it in real life, knowing I was potentially in striking distance of the province's largest venomous creature, but I was as excited as I was apprehensive.
It was difficult to pinpoint where the rattling was coming from precisely, but looking carefully we were unable to see it, and believed it to under an overhang of rock. We proceeded to continue down the trail and sure enough, the buzzing subsided, and I kicked myself for not having the presence of mind to record it.
The Battle Scene petroglyph is about a kilometre's walk, but in the 29 degree heat it felt further. It was worth the walk and the sweat though, even if they require a security fence and camera to prevent vandalism.
Still, it is amazing to see a frank depiction of post-contact combat as rendered by a member of the Blackfoot Confederacy. You have to look carefully to see them in places, as they are hundreds of years old and the sandstone they are inscribed in is subject to the mercies of erosion, but once spying them, they offer a stunningly visceral connection to the past.
And again, we are grateful for the context and guidance provided by nearby signage!
It is only about 1.5 km back to the campgrounds from here on the Hoodoo Trail, and had it been cooler we might have attempted it. As it was, the walk back to the road and viewpoint was yet another opportunity to marvel at the astonishing topography, especially the hoodoos.
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