An uncomfortable pressure was building in my gut as I rolled down the highway and it meant I had better find a washroom, and quickly. I was coming up on Bashaw, Alberta, and thought, “that’ll do pig.” It had been a hot, shitty day moving my daughter out of her place in Edmonton and not finding a bathroom soon enough would make it even shittier. Literally.
I found a washroom at a campground at the outskirts of town and, honestly, that was the high point of the visit. Bashaw is somehwhere between being on palliative care and “stick a fork in my ass” dead. It’s definitely a town with one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.
My family does have a bit of history here. My grandfather, Walter Alwyn McCormick, owned Bashaw Bakery before World War Two, and sold it so that he could go off and fight in the war. He was a bit long in the tooth at that point and wound up being put in a kitchen on a frigate for generals well away from the action baking scones for their tea, instead. I’m told that didn’t go over well with him as he came to Canada from the U.K. as a lad and wanted to pick up a gun and do his part. I still figure it was a damn brave thing to do, so he gets a tip of the hat from his grandson for it.
I snagged a few pictures in a quick walk around main street and headed home. It was a long day and not much in town was calling to me on that evening.
Images made with my vintage and beloved Canon Powershot G1X. B&W converstion to Ilford 400 simulated film using ON1 Effex v10.
