ACCORDING TO Google Maps, the drive from Medicine Hat to Kincaid, Saskatchewan, is 313 kilometers (194 miles) and takes 3 hours and 16 minutes.
“They don’t know the backroads,” he said. “It’s more like 2 ½ if you know the right way.”
Pavement is overrated in southern Saskatchewan. If you want to get anywhere, it’s gravel you need to take.
Kincaid is a ‘village’ of 120. It has a grain elevator, indoor rink, school, store, and Bouvier’s Berry Basket (open all summer). Three miles outside on, you guessed it, a gravel road, is the Weiterman homestead.
The property once spanned 2,560 acres and the farm ran 100-150 cattle. Crops rotated among barley, canola, duram, flax, hay, lentils, mustard, oats, peas, and wheat. There’s a well, but the water is undrinkable. Drinking water is brought home in five-gallon jugs. And there is no wi-fi. Too expensive in the Rural Municipality of Pinto Creek No. 75.
This is the home of Jack and Theresa Weiterman, Elic’s grandparents. They’re retired now. The last cow has been sold, and they’re down to 160 acres. But this is the destination for every major holiday, family gathering, and summer vacation.
“Kincaid is in the middle of nowhere,” Elic said. “And they live even more in the middle of nowhere.”
Elic learned to ride a bike there. He drove go-karts and quads. There were races of every sort and countless competitions among family. There is a massive egg hunt at Easter, and at Christmas every year, they rent the entire Kincaid rink for 100 friends and relatives, with skating, food, and gifts.
The family brand was the Flying J and during branding season, Elic helped tag calves and hold them down while their ears were clipped.
Elic witnessed the difficulties of calving season, when pregnant cows need to be checked frequently, including in the middle of the night in the coldest of winters. If a mother was in trouble, Jack would have to pull the calf out, sometimes even bottle feeding until they were strong enough to return to the mother, who sometimes would reject it.
“They were long days, but that was farm life,” Pam said. “We grew up as strong kids because we worked. We really worked.”
How strong? Pam was known for arm wrestling. Jack would think nothing of pitting shy 11-year-old Pam against his friends. And she would win.
Her one regret is not knowing when to stop. For the first 13 years of Elic’s life, Pam was undefeated against her son.
“One day, he came and said, ‘let’s arm wrestle,’” she said. “He was getting stronger, but I thought, let’s do it. And he beat me. I knew I would never beat him again. I should not have said yes … Damn. Too late.”
Childhood for her, when she wasn’t working, was carefree. It meant walking an hour to town on her own, spending the day catching frogs, making mudcakes with twigs as candles, swimming in ponds while pulling leeches off her skin without a thought.
“To regular kids, that sounds disgusting,” Pamela said. “But in your mind, you’re just adventuring. You’re outside in nature. You’re making memories.”
From the house, you can turn any direction and just see land. It seems to go on forever.
“There’s no judgment on the farm,” Pamela said. “You can just be you.”
But as she got older, Pam itched for something different. “I wanted out,” she said. “I was not going to do that with my life. But, now, looking back, those were the best days.”
Elic would say the same.
“Farm kids are just tough,” he said. “That’s just how it is.”