Allan engineered, built, maintains, and runs the place. It looks more like a manicured English garden than a campground. Abandoned by the provincial government for the past 20 years, to say that he has resurrected the site would be a grevious understatement.

Although he claims to be a plain ‘ol Saskatchewan hillbilly, don’t be fooled. No hillbilly he. First responder, paramedic, fireman, farmer, rancher, and part-time engineer, Allan is exactly the kind of man you would want to have around in a pinch. Moreover, he’s an old soul who made it his business to know ours.

Professing he was on his way to town, he asked if we needed anything. ‘Need?’ I asked with raised eyebrows. ‘I don’t really need anything. All good here.’ I said.

Knowing a  thing or two about river rats, Allan responded quick as a wink ‘How ‘bout want?’

Orders placed, he roared there and back and hand delivered ice in a cooler, some fine brown wine, minnows, and despite our resisting, Hawkins Cheesies. Gold. Pure, highly processed, GMO, and bad for you, gold.

The map shows nothing at the bridge so we were expecting not much more. Thankfully, we were dead wrong.

I’ll go back to Borden Bridge just to say hi to Allan and use the outhouse. It really is that cool. And besides, next time it’ll be OK if I move my stuff with the Gator.