With nothing but the bare essentials of life packed in the trunk, which included an amount of camping gear, about $400 in cash, no credit cards, an assortment of cassette tapes, and a guitar along with a small amount of sheet music stowed in the back seat, I backed out of the driveway one last time and pointed the nose of the Mazda in the direction of the nearest highway with no clear idea where I was going or what would befall me. As it turns out, I would end up traveling not only across Western Canada by car but also in far away lands on foot and would return six years later a different man than when I left. For the first six months of that journey I would keep myself fed and gas in the car by busking, that is, performing in the street for money, at various stops along the way. In the heat of summer and the chill of spring and fall I sang for my supper, literally.
What follows is a short story about my visit to Yorkton, Saskatchewan while busking west across Canada.
Yorkton:A Fallen Man Dreams of Redemption, A Starving Man Dreams of Food
As I approached the edge of Yorkton, Saskatchewan, population 9,000, on a chilly spring afternoon dirty, hungry, and almost out of gas, I passed a sign off in a field that the community had erected for me too see that reassuringly proclaimed, “The Lord shall provide.” On the other side of the road for oncoming traffic to read was yet another sign. I turned my head as I passed and read the sage words, “Ye are your brother’s keeper.” I had spent all of the money I had in this world but for a handful of change on gas the day before and had not a morsel of food about me, neither had I eaten anything that day since the morning of the day before, and my prospects of getting something to eat this day were far from certain. While not bemoaning my plight, I chuckled to myself that I was surely a brother in need of keeping if ever there was one. It seemed the community wanted me to know it was a supportive and welcoming place to be and that by the Lord’s grace the sun shone a little brighter in Yorkton. A promising sign, it was all good to me.
I hadn’t bathed in three days and I suspected that if that smell wasn’t me then some small animal had crawled into the car and died. I wasn’t presentable for busking but busk I must. A quick tour of the town revealed that the only likely spot for busking was to be had at the local grocery store across from a rather large, ornate church with a sign out front declaring, “Ye Will Know Them By Their Works.” But before I opened shop there I had to clean myself up and make myself presentable.
My investigation of the town had failed to turn up the usual community centre where I could grab a free shower, not surprising in such a small town, and entry to the only gym proved upon inquiry to be priced beyond my means. However, on the way back into town from the gym I discovered a shallow creek running coldly across the path of the road that ran off in either direction into cow pastures and flowed on to the horizons in both directions. Problem solved. When all else fails nature will most often provide.
I quickly parked the car on the gravel shoulder of the road, grabbed a towel and a bar of soap from the trunk, made my way under the overpass, and stripped. Standing shivering naked in the cool spring air, covered in goose bumps, I paused momentarily and looked doubtfully at the creek. It was maybe 5 degrees above freezing out. I had a well founded suspicion that that water was going to be mighty cold. All of a sudden this didn’t seem like such a good idea. But there was nothing for it, and so, like tearing a bandage off in one quick yank to get it over with painlessly, I quickly jumped in. My suspicion was immediately confirmed. It took my breath away. Man was it cold. I was the closest thing to a Popsicle that I ever want to be. I swear I set a speed record for the quickest bath in the history of man. I was in and out, dressed, and in the car with my teeth chattering and the heater on full in about three minutes. But I was clean, wide awake, and ready to work.
I slipped the car into gear and pulled out onto the black-top. The grocery store was on the near side of town and I was in the parking lot inside of a few minutes. I exited the car leaving my guitar behind, locked the door, and went into the store to get the approval from management to work the store front. Approval given I went back to the car, got out my guitar, and got set up without delay. The sooner I got too work the sooner I ate.