From 1916 and for the following eight years of Alberta’s prohibition, whiskey flowed through the gap in the Milk River range like water over a dam.
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Short trips
Yesterday I rode south to the Blackfeet Nation, where warriors on horseback guard the northern entrance to the rez.
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Fay lived on a ranch about 15 miles from Cardston. At the age of three, her family moved south to America, where her mother had been born.
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But what the hell, he was wearing a suit and tie and I felt bad for him all dolled up like that on a hot day, while this very morning I rode the Manitoulin, spent time at an ice cream parlor after waiting for a swing bridge, took a leisurely hour and 45 minute ride on a ferry, and meandered south to my destination, enjoying every last living minute of it all.
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Only 600 miles today. Two days to make a thousand.
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