Lacadena – Surprises around every corner in this incredible ghost town
The Ghost Town. The word evokes stark imagery of shuttered buildings, cobweb filled windows, tumble weeds blowing through the streets – utter isolation. Through the years I have explored dozens of these sites, from smaller relics with two buildings – to whole a whole town preserved but abandoned in the Canadian Rockies. They all have a commonality past the abandonment; their stories are rooted with a single thread: people. How they got there, what they did for a living, why did they go away? These interwoven narratives allow us to look at history as it moves through time. But as an explorer, we get to add to the narrative first-hand; sharing experiences, stories and photographs are all part of what keeps the ethos of these towns alive.
After our initial exploration of a small church in southwest Saskatchewan, my father and I turned our sites on a ghost town Wade and I a year earlier had only just passed through. It left an urning and a strong desire to return and dissect the towns’ sites one by one. We did just that, but it didn’t come without it’s perils or challenges. Lacadena is a bit of an enigma. It’s hard to nail down dates and places of who, where, why. But that only adds to the mystery and drives the exploration further.
In the early 1900’s he CPR (Canadian Pacific Railway) was expanding rapidly. This is no more evident than across the prairie communities of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba. With the railroad brought prosperity, economic upturn, easier access to goods and services such as food and mail/transportation. A natural side effect was the creation boom of thousands of farming communities across Canada. Sometime in 1910 Lacadena created a natural byproduct of moving grain across the prairies; the church would follow a year later and with it the expanse of residents and their homes.
There was a host of amenities: Post office, bank, Hotel, rodeo grounds, school turned community center – everything required to keep a small farm community happy and satiated. The great depression brought its economic disasters to towns across Canada; this with the railroad slowly expanding services away from rural municipalities and focusing on connecting larger cities; it meant absolute certain death for the rural farming scene.
By 1995 the last train service was issued – and the final nail in the coffin hammered in. Today there is but a single resident, and the streets echo of a time of prosperity – it’s surreal to think about as we step out of our SUV and onto the streets. The air is hot, muggy and thick – but its brimming with an unseen energy; an exploration is about to take place and were about to place hack as much as possible.
The phrase: “The silence was deafening”, is often used by explorers – myself included, to describe the atmosphere and overall mood of an abandoned site. It’s a mantra that’s easy to use – but few understand the gravity of it. I think most who live in remote or rural areas already will have a sense of kinship with the expression.
Being from the city there is always noise. The hum of traffic nearby, sirens, dogs barking, neighbors, the list goes on. It’s an odd form of white noise that becomes second nature to most. So, when presented with a decayed community – long gone the hustle and bustle of time past; we are presented with a stark realization that the world is a disgustingly noisy place. The silence amongst most ghost towns is palpable. Senses are sharpened and heightened, as if being used for the time. It’s a brilliant way to explore – the serenity of feeling completely alone physically and mentally. The most connected thing I have ever felt in this hobby is silently strolling down the empty streets- passing old stores, homes and automobiles left to rust.
Lacadena was no exception. Each home hid its own story, its own energy waiting to be absorbed. Each step probed us deeper into the simple but hard life of a farming community. Homes adorned with personal affects, a hand-crafted bank with the vault still intact, an arena used for indoor rodeos... all left behind.
My father’s calm but excited demeanor wandering on his own – taking in isolated surroundings, was an elating experience. To see a grin a mile wide; a man in his late sixties return to childhood like exuberance Is a core memory I’ll never forget.
Along our adventure, my father ran into the sole permanent resident - John. He was kind enough to let my dad use his washroom in an emergency; in those moments afterword he tenderly explained life living alone in a town full of empty husks. “it has its moments. I enjoy the small things. The quiet nights, the stars, the lack of chaos the city brings.” He laughs: “But it can get crazy”
Apparently, some years ago he woke up to one hell of a windstorm – but not just any windstorm, apparently a tornado had touched down in the area. “I woke up, looked outside and saw one of the few remaining trees blow past my property. I just made a cup of coffee and watched tv hoping for the best.” The storm raged and he came out unscathed.
Coming here and finally being able to see everything firsthand after a year of planning was incredibly rewarding. I’m sure there are more stories to be heard; for now we closed the chapter on our own with the hopes of returning one day and capturing those moments once more.
