After photographing Arthur James in Orkney, Saskatchewan, and thrilled having found my first subject for my "Back To The Land" project, I continued East, heading towards Val Marie, which lies on the borders of Grasslands National Park. As I pulled off the highway, I made my way down the centre street, spotting the post office, the local grocer, a cafe' and a few buildings in the early stages of a renovation or demolition as I couldn't tell. As my appetite started to grow into a severe case of the hangries, I pulled into the cute little cafe' called The Harvest Moon Cafe. I walked in, and I could not help but notice the large photographs displayed on the wall showcasing the majestic grasslands and the Bison that call these grasslands home. I wasn't the only person in the cafe as a family was enjoying their lunch as well. Making small chat with the waitress and having trouble deciding what to order, I went with her suggestion and proceeded to chat with the family sitting across from me. They shared some info about the park, where they were from, and we exchanged our reasons for being in Val Marie. After lunch, I decided to hunt out the local campground and settle in.
The campsite was nothing more than a large rectangular patch of roughly landscaped grass, with large poplar trees surrounding the perimeter. There were no noticeable markers or signs to distinguish each site and random picnic tables for your choosing. I assumed you parked, and that was your spot. As far as I was concerned, this was perfect. I found my spot underneath one of the larger poplars with low-hanging branches to hide from the hot Saskatchewan sun. From there, I decided to go for a walk and check out the park's office and the museum and coffee shop just off the highway. I ordered a coffee and asked her if she knew anyone in the town that had an interesting story. She proceeded to tell me about Wes Olson and Jim Commodore. She gave me their contact information and shared various insights about the area and the people who call Val Marie home. I finished my coffee and went back to the campsite to make some phone calls and explore the rest of the town. The following day I woke up early, had eggs for breakfast on my trusty Coleman stove, and decided to return to the Harvest Moon Cafe' for a coffee.
As I sat drinking my coffee, I began chatting with the local waitress, asking her about the area and the people in the town. I proceeded to tell her about my photography project and if she knew anybody that stuck out in her mind that I might be able to photograph, mentioning my general list of hopeful subjects; farmers, artists, beekeepers, etc. And as soon as I said the word Bee-keeper. She said, "YES... and I know just the person". She gave me a name and number and told me to give them a call.
The phone started to ring, and the other line picked up
"Hello?"
Me: "Is John Reynolds there?"...
"Are you looking for John Sr. or John Jr?".
Not knowing there were two John's in the household, I went out on a limb and asked for John Senior, which turned out was the man who answered the phone. I began to tell John Senior who I was and my reasons for calling which he then calmly started telling me that he had a freak accident and broke his neck three days before my call. I didn't know how to respond. Still in a wheelchair and brace, he mentioned his grandson might be better off helping me with my inquiry, and he passed the line over to his grandson John Junior. After repeating my reasons for calling, it turns out he and his family had relocated to Val Marie to keep the Triple R Honey Ranch on track as John Senior did most of the labour before falling, which almost left him a person with paraplegia. The good news was the doctors expected a full recovery. I asked John if it's possible to meet up and find out more of what goes into the day and life of a beekeeper, possibly meet his grandfather, and find out more info about the family honey farm. He happily agreed, and in two days, I was on John's doorstep.
Before I could even knock, John opened the door, and I could not believe my eyes, there in front of me stood the most gregarious character that certainly did not fit the description I had pictured in my mind; a timid young farmer with Levi 501 jeans and a plaid shirt to finish. Instead stood this 185lb thick tattoo-covered friendly giant with an orange beard that would make any biker jealous. His physical appearance was something out of a Mad Max movie and would catch anyone off guard if it wasn't for John's genuine and welcoming smile. Immediately after introducing ourselves, I could not help notice John's positive, gentle nature and enthusiasm in welcoming me to his home and town. He immediately shook my hand firmly and introduced me to his lovely wife Carly and their two beautiful, energetic children, Wyatt and Olivia. They immediately invited me to jump on the trampoline. I sat down with the family and talked more about my cross-Canada project, my intentions, what I hoped to achieve, as I wanted to know more about their family history. Once John and Carly gave me the thumbs up to document their honey operation and their day-to-day life as beekeepers, I could not have been more honoured, humbled, and above all, excited to photograph such beautiful people.
That night they decided to give me a little taste of what I was in for over the next nine days, which was not what I had planned. I only kept postponing my departure from Val Marie because I was having way too much fun with bee-keeping and meeting a variety of other people (More to come on that). That evening we drove through some of the town's backroads, visiting two out of the five honey yards they owned in various locations, checking to see how the bees were doing and the progress of the honey, which would soon be harvested in the coming days. I immediately noticed the constant humming in the air as hundreds of bees surrounded you as we approached each location. I wore a face shield, but John reassured me I didn't need one or needed gloves as we checked the hives and wouldn't disturb the bees that much. Skeptical, I trusted him (only with the gloves), and within an hour, never once did a bee sting John, Carly, or myself. I also noticed the bees were relatively calm as John and Carly checked each hive, being careful not to aggravate any of the bees that were within inches from bare skin. John reiterated that when they started to harvest the honey and break down each hive, the situation would change drastically, and when that happens, we would be forced to wear face shields and gloves.
The first few days of the harvest started with John and Carly showing me their hives by separating each crate stacked 5 feet high. From there, the general production on how bees make honey, what makes up the hive, and the different types of bees and their purposes within the colony. By the time we had the first few crates of our first hive, the bees were in survival mode, and the air was covered in tens of thousands of bees. I can still hear the constant buzz that was almost deafening as it could also be heard from hundreds of feet away. I loved watching Carly and John work and their attention to detail, putting as little stress on the bees as possible, which was just as important as the quality of their honey, making sure bee casualties were at a minimum. After all the crates were separated and placed on the ground from each hive, we now had to let them rest for six hours, allowing the bees to calm down before our return in the evening to load the crates onto the truck and drive them back to the processing room back in Val Marie. This whole process took a few days, and there was one thing that I still found fascinating but caught me off guard when it happened; One evening, John asked me to help load crates with him, and I jumped at the opportunity, eagerly picking it up, not before nearly giving myself a hernia. The single crate must have weighed over 100lbs. Now lifting 100lbs is not hard, but you never expect honey to have that much weight. On one of the nights, we ended up working very late, and my overconfident bragging caught up with me as I still had bragging rights because I hadn't been stung yet. Being stung by a bee or wasp is not a big deal; it's happened to all of us, and it's not the worst thing that can happen. It only sucks when it happens again, then again, and again. I was losing my mind wondering what the hell was going on as I kept frantically looking over my body for any signs that bees could penetrate. Then there's that feeling of insects crawling up your leg, and for that split second, you think to your self "This is not good." That's when I noticed the small hole in the bottom of my pants. I briefly thought about running away to take my pants off. However, that was not an option as there was too much work to be done. John came over and quickly rubbed my leg, which ended up leaving me with a few more stings. By this time, it was getting very late; we were all exhausted and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
With no shortage of a few more swear words and grunts, we packed everything up and headed back to Val Marie. As I arrived back at my campsite, I immediately went to shower, eager to get out of my sticky, sweaty bee-ridden clothing. I quickly noticed about twenty stings on my right leg and substantially larger than my left from the obvious swelling. I was too tired to treat it with anything. Instead, I took a long hot shower, made my way across the campground half-naked in a towel, crawled into my coffin of a tent, and immediately fell asleep. The following day I woke up and felt a little stiff, shrugging it off as everyday body aches from the past few days in the fields. I stepped out of my tent and fell flat on my face. I couldn't bend my right leg or kneel without having significant pain. The swelling had increased overnight, and my joints were starting to seize. John assured me the swelling would go down and not to worry. He was right, but I didn't return to normal until several days later. My advice to anyone wanting to work around bees, wear the gear and make sure you have no holes in your clothing. Oh, and bring duct tape, lots of it.
It was a fantastic experience and one I would recommend anyone do. The photographs below will provide better visuals and give you a taste of what I would consider one of the best chance encounters I've had in a long time.
Enjoy!
Send me a message if you have any questions or know someone in a small-Canadian town that has led an interesting or exciting life that you feel needs to be shared.
*Update*- It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that John Reynolds Junior suddenly passed away in late 2021. I will never forget my time spent with John and wish his family, friends, and those that knew him my deepest condolences. Rest in peace, my dear friend.
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