Though not as well known as the Cypress Hills, the Touchwood Hills are another height of land left by the glacier as it receded. The Touchwood Hills are the point of land where Henry Kelsey, the great overland explorer, turned back east after his epic travel ( 1690- 1692), a century before any other recorded white man traveled the area. A cairn marks the area and I grew up there. Our little town became sequestered from the Muskowekwan Reserve when the Grand Trunk Railway was built and a depot was needed.The original treaty was signed by the Cree chief Muscowequan in 1874 at Fort Qu'Appelle with the other chiefs of Little and Big Touchwood Hills.
My friend and I, living in the town that evolved from the depot, played organized midget hockey with the Indian team from the Oblate Fathers Mission School .The Cree Nation boys from the Muskowekwan welcomed the two of us and we always felt part of things. We never felt white when we were there. There is nothing like sport to unite young men. The outdoor rink we practised on in the winter time was at the Mission. and the roads there were bad and never ploughed. A batchelor farmer who liked to watch hockey always took the two of us out to the Mission on the back of his tractor in the winter. He always went to the "coast" later. He told us it didn't snow in Burnaby. I remember thinking a lot about Burnaby as we bucked through the drifts. As we stood behind him on the tractor, wind with driving snow whistled by our cheek, holding onto the seat of the tractor for dear life as the tractor bucked the drifts, not much to stand on, I said to myself, "One day I will go to Burnaby!"
My friend and I, living in the town that evolved from the depot, played organized midget hockey with the Indian team from the Oblate Fathers Mission School .The Cree Nation boys from the Muskowekwan welcomed the two of us and we always felt part of things. We never felt white when we were there. There is nothing like sport to unite young men. The outdoor rink we practised on in the winter time was at the Mission. and the roads there were bad and never ploughed. A batchelor farmer who liked to watch hockey always took the two of us out to the Mission on the back of his tractor in the winter. He always went to the "coast" later. He told us it didn't snow in Burnaby. I remember thinking a lot about Burnaby as we bucked through the drifts. As we stood behind him on the tractor, wind with driving snow whistled by our cheek, holding onto the seat of the tractor for dear life as the tractor bucked the drifts, not much to stand on, I said to myself, "One day I will go to Burnaby!"
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