Dawson Creek to Dawson Creek, BC
Traditional territory of the Métis, Beaver and Dene Tha’
12 km
Very, very smoky; cold rain in the morning and overcast the rest of the day
Today was a very, very cool day. I woke up early, not realizing that Dawson Creek goes along with Pacific Standard Time, and wandered around the deserted early-morning post-Saturday-night fairgrounds for a bit before coming across a free Sunday breakfast provided by a local church. I asked to photograph the spurs of a young woman who came by for breakfast and soon found myself sharing a table with none other than four rodeo queens. They answered every question I could possibly think of about the rodeo.
We headed over to the stage past the food stalls for some gospel music, but I left early because it had started to rain and I wanted to be warm enough to stay out and about all day. I found some coffee at a closed food stall, talked to a medic about search-and-rescue horses, then headed back to my tent to move my bicycle.
Then I met a 13-year-old boy who competed with his steer in the 4-H competition, then it was a couple of women quilting, then the mayor of Dawson Creek, a few cowboys, a barrel racer, and through it all the rodeo queens, who at that point I knew by name.
At one point I was on the racetrack photographing the rodeo queens and I told them I was trying to figure out how to sneak over to the other side to be closer to the action. “Just tell them you’re with royalty,” they said. Which I wonder if I’ll ever be able to say again in my life.
I have a whole photo essay in the works for the rodeo. In the meantime, here’s a photo of a kid being dragged by a pony. Badass.
