Sputnik Over Saskatchewan
Cover photo: Night sky at Gravelbourg, Saskatchewan, by Mark Eddy.
It was a clear dark prairie night in 1957. Our neighbours, Jim and Ellen Wallis and their boys Rae and Robert, had joined my parents and my sister, Carol, and I in the farmyard to watch the sky. There was now one man-made object orbiting the earth, and we were determined to see it.
The Russians had launched the satellite Sputnik that fall. We, along with the rest of humanity, were in awe of such a momentous event. It was almost beyond our comprehension: Could humankind have really placed something up in space that could shine down on us like the stars?
I remember my grade six teacher saying: "Ten years ago I would have laughed if anyone said we might go to the moon. Now I am not so sure." The moon landing was more than a decade away, but this was the beginning of human adventures in space.
We settled comfortably onto the grass in the yard that pleasant autumn night and leaned back, gazing upward. We did not have to worry about light pollution. Rural Saskatchewan was very dark in my childhood, and the stars hung overhead, so low one felt like one could reach out and touch them.
The night sky was a familiar awe-inspiring sight. Dark Preserves like that in the Cypress Hills today were unheard of, as were casinos with iconic lights shooting miles upward into the sky confusing the birds and annoying stargazers. Back then, we all spent the night in the dark.
Electricity had barely arrived in rural Saskatchewan. Sometimes it was eerie and spooky, but at other times it would feel as if the night was wrapping one in a comforting, cozy blanket.
Mrs. Wallis had brought a plate of fudge for the occasion, and my sister, who had a sweet tooth, remembers that Mrs. Wallis gave us each a piece and then gave the rest to the dogs! Laddy, the Wallis's big black dog, was part of this star party as was Scotty, our border collie. I do not know if the animals noticed or were bothered by Sputnik, but they gobbled down the fudge.
Time passed, and it was getting late as we continued to concentrate our eyes on the heavens. Would it be possible to pick out this small object so high above us?
Suddenly Rae's arm shot up, and he pointed and shouted excitedly, "There she goes!"
Sure enough, there it was, blinking and gliding along among the stars, just visible to the naked eye. We had just witnessed history in the making. It was an experience we would never forget. I learned later that it was likely the booster rocket we saw, not the actual Sputnik.
Twelve years later, I was in England when the moon landing happened. It was an exciting day, and the whole world, united as never before, practically came to a standstill. I remember the streets of London teeming with people carrying silver rocket-shaped balloons to mark the occasion. I heard one Englishman say, ''My, are those Americans brave."
Today spotting satellites is commonplace, and last summer, while camping on the Hanson Lake Road, it was interesting to see the space station travel across the night sky.
But nothing was as breath-taking and thrilling as seeing that first Sputnik pass over our farmyard that quiet memorable night in the empty stillness of the southern Saskatchewan countryside.
Originally published in Folklore Magazine, Vol. 35 No. 1 (Winter 2013).
BEV LUNDAHL is the author of two research mysteries: "Entangled Roots, the Mystery of Peterborough's Headless Corpse" and "The Thunderbird the Quesnel & the Sea" (www.ynwp.ca), both snapshots of Canada's buried history. Bev has been published in Saskatchewan's 'Folklore Magazine,' 'The Heritage Gazette of the Trent Valley,' 'Canada's History Magazine' (formerly The Beaver), 'Actions Stations!', a Canadian Navy publication, and others. She posts regularly to her blog, https://sprinkleyourfamilytree.wordpress.com/.
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