Highway 12 slices through the wheat fields north of Saskatoon, a never-ending runway as flat as a boardroom table. Our destination is Prince Albert National Park, less than three hours as the crow flies or, more accurately, plucks road kill from the highway. The speed limit on these roads is 100 kilometres per hour, a perversely slow clip for a mid-size rental sedan, or any horseless carriage for that matter. It’s memories of galloping horses keeping me awake at the wheel: the time I raced across the green plains of Mongolia; that day I cantered on a Bedouin’s horse in the Jordanian desert; exploring Lord of the Rings locations on horseback in New Zealand; learning to ride a unicorn Lipizzaner in the training rings of Slovenia. The Great Canadian Bucket List is kicking for an equine adventure, and Sturgeon River Ranch is ready to put us back in the saddle.
A Brush with Extinction
For a beast so large, it’s frightening to think that North American bison almost went the way of the passenger pigeon, once among the most abundant birds on Earth but hunted to extinction in the late 1800s. It is estimated that 20 to 30 million bison once roamed the plains of America, but after decades of unchecked and wholesale slaughter, largely by fur traders, bison numbers had decreased to just over 1,000 by the late 1800s. Today, there are around 500,000 bison in North America, of which only 15,000 can be found roaming in their natural range.
We turn off Highway 55, driving 26 kilometres on a dirt road through the West Gate entrance of the 3,874-square-kilometre national park. Across the river are three generations of Vaadelands, a family that settled here in 1928, the same year the park was founded. Operating cattle, land, and horses, Gord Vaadeland took a different route when he founded Sturgeon River Ranch as a horse riding and adventure operator, successfully integrating both his business and his family’s farms with Prince Albert’s star attraction: Canada’s only herd of free-ranging plains bison, roaming within their historic range.
Gord is waiting for us, with his trademark wide-brimmed black cowboy hat and red checkered shirt. Two bold black horses will pull our supply wagon. Along for the ride are Gord’s trusty sidekicks, Glen (hangdog moustache, slow prairie drawl) and Beckie (chef, bison naturalist, trail mom), and my dad, eager to believe that riding horses is like riding bicycles. It’s been 30 years since he hopped in a saddle, and we’re both hoping he can stay on it.
My horse is a tall, brown speckled stallion named Applejack. He’s got the race champion War Admiral twice in his lineage, but Gord assures me this apple has fallen miles from the tree. After years of commercial riders, Applejack is addicted to grazing on the same abundant sweetgrass attracting the bison. Still, the stallion is certainly a step up from my usual brand of trail horse, with names like Haystack or Lego, as in “always falling apart.”
Saddled up, we head into a dense forest of trembling aspen and wild hazelnut bush. Gord calls this the “Mantracker Trail.” When the hit TV series filmed a couple of episodes in the area, Gord was the on-camera guide, while his horses tracked down the “prey.” No crazy chases are expected for our overnight trip, but still, we’re on a hunt: somewhere in the meadow clearings ahead are herds of wild bison, and our horses will help us find them. Wildlife viewing on horseback is ideal, explains Gord. The park’s animals don’t get spooked, and our horses will detect any wildlife long before we do.
As we plod along in single file, the landscape quickly proves there’s so much more to the prairie than flat farmland. Jackson, Gord’s feisty horse, perks up his ears. Up ahead is a black bear, oblivious to our approach. With the wind in our favour, we ride closer and closer, until the bear suddenly realizes we’re just feet away and quickly darts into the forest. Next is a lone bison bull, a tank of a beast, grazing in a meadow. We approach quietly and carefully. Having grown up in these woods, Gord knows never to corner a bison and the value of keeping your distance. “They can probably outrun your horse,” he whispers. Especially Applejack, who would probably stop for a snack in the middle of a stampede.
Two hundred years ago, there were millions of bison in North America, migrating across the plains. Their meat and fur supported First Nations tribes for millennia. But when European fur traders arrived, they hunted the bison to the verge of extinction. In 2008, there were 450 bison roaming Prince Albert. By 2014, that number had been reduced to just 240, the result of illegal poaching, increased wolf predation, and disease. While farmed bison are plentiful (their meat is a healthy alternative to beef), the genetic future of these wild bison is constantly under threat.
Riding through aspen and Jack pine forest that at times seems almost impenetrable, we arrive a few hours later at our tipis and campsite. As a licensed operator and wildlife consultant, Gord has special permission for his guests to spend the night here. Wagon unloaded, cots set up in the tipis, we sit around the fire, baking bannock on sticks to accompany Beckie’s delicious wild elk stew. Gord pulls out a bottle of bourbon (a bison is on the label), the five of us enjoying a night of true prairie wilderness. As the fire crackles, the horses tense.
“Over here, quick!” says Glen.
Just across the river, 100 feet away, a herd of 30 bison have wandered into a clearing to graze in the twilight. It’s one of those magical, unexpected wildlife moments, when everything comes together: the people, the landscape, the weather, the animals. When it gets too dark, we sit around the fire, listening to the herd make its way upriver. Retiring to the rustic comforts of the tipi, we hear the patter of raindrops on the soft walls, the howl of a wolf in the distance.
Thinking of the area’s glittering lakes, fun characters, wild animals, and even wilder summer celebrations at Ness Creek, I fall sound asleep in little doubt that the plains of central Saskatchewan have much to offer the Canadian bucket list.
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/princealbert