I feel the air getting thinner as I turn the final bend of
the ascent. Approaching the summit, I
notice subtle changes in the vegetation: the dew on the grass glistens with a
darker shade of green; the trees are just that tiny bit shorter. I feel a shortness
of breath as I shift into my biggest ring on the back. I am pedalling up Mount
Nebo, the 121st highest mountain in Manitoba.
The local Hutterites down in the valley tell stories about
the mountain, about the dragons and other monsters that supposedly have resided
on the barren slopes of Nebo since as far back as 1900, at least according to
some old-timers. Young men, after starving for days, have been known to venture
on foot up to the mountain top alone, part of a traditional Hutterite vision
quest, in search of some kind of revelation, a burning scrub oak. Local lore
has it that a descendant spirit of the Babylonian god of wheat and livestock
haunts this part of Manitoba.
Up top, I set my bike down in the ditch and gaze over the
vast prospect of the lower territories of southern Manitoba: the plains of Roland
and Winkler, the wetlands of Plum Coulee. It is a different world up there. The
gravel is whiter and the people talk with a strange lilt in their voice, a
result, no doubt of centuries of isolation.
I saw no dragons that day, but two rogue llamas did lope
across the road in front of me, escapees from the Morden Corn and Apple
Festival petting zoo, or perhaps the Hutterite colony, or, just maybe, spirit animal
avatars of Nebo himself.
ah yes, the perilous mount nebo. Having grown up in that neck of the woods, I was raised on the lore of the Mount Nebo dragon. Elders would tell tales of the dragon terrorizing children who took more than their allotted number of free cobs of corn at the local festival. Scary stuff.
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