Robsart: The Saskatchewan icon finally adventured.
The fog hiding this decayed beauty.
There are a host of definitions on what an Icon can be described as. The one I found most intriguing was outlined as such: “a person or thing widely admired especially for having great influence or significance in a particular sphere.” Amongst Canadian backroad explorers, Robsart seems to fall into this vortex of recognition. It’s a popular destination for photographers and adventurers alike; all with the same ambitions: to document and experience history on a comprehensive scale.
The town has long been on my list of prairie adventures. The vast number of abandoned buildings, all with a rich history attached to them – seemed like the perfect way to end our father and son trip of 2025. I scoured over hundreds of photos, from friends and explorers alike, who all have captured the essence of a ghost town. I wanted to go a step further and sift through the debris to encapsulate the family’s and lives that were once present. As fate would have it, timing is everything and we met a very special human being who would glue all this creative material together impeccably.
Well get into his story in a bit. So, let’s take a rewind and roll back the clocks 115 years. In 1910 the CPR railway (noticing a common theme?) bought up a chunk of land in southwest Saskatchewan and named it Robsart. (The land was named after Amy Robsart, a character in a book written by Sir Walter Scott.) With the railroad line being a perfect steppingstone for prosperity, a mere three years later the land was bought up by a man named Henry Abott. (One of the first settlers in the area) As many more arrived, businesses started to flourish and expand. For a small community they had an incredible array of services: A general store, Feed Mill, dentist, jeweler, and a surgeon all inhabited the town. In total, over 30 businesses would be present – a stark change while roaming the ghostly streets today.
For years life was good and the town flourished. There is a similarity to its fate tied along with Anyox that began the downward spiral to its demise. In 1929 one of the grain elevators caught fire – then a mere year later a second blaze ripped through the downtown core wiping out a large chunk of the businesses. I want to assume that after the disaster the community rallied back and rebuilt but the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Great depression, drought, poor crop yields all were nails in the proverbial coffin. As with most resource based settlements, when their way of life is irreparably removed – exodus Is next on the list; this is a commonality with mining boroughs.
With a dying population and the remaining grain elevator being torn down in 2000, it was inevitable its village status was dissolved in 2002. Fast forward to 2021 and a mere 15 residents remain. In 2025 Swiftcurrent Online reported only a couple of homes housing the remaining residents.
It was last on our list on a long trip across Saskatchewan, a fitting goodbye to a beautiful province. The mood was foreboding but a photographers dream – the fog had rolled in, and sunlight was trying desperately to break through. My friend Wade had explored the community a couple years prior and was welcomed by the same setting; it added a gorgeously eerie Candance to his adventure – what a twist of fate we would encounter the same.
I was able to snap some striking drone shots before the fog was consumed by daylight. With the sun now bathing the ghost town in its beautiful glow it was time to hit the streets – what a coincidence a long-time resident was there to share his story.
We took off in different directions – both chasing something in our minds we saw on the drive in. I took off immediately to an old home on the east end of town, while my dad wanted to walk the streets moving west.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a home stuffed with artifacts from the early 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. Everything about the home oozed cozy comfort amongst the vastness of the plains. With the heat intensified I made my way to a well-known spot my dad had already walked through: the local garage. It was surreal to see so many photos of this building over the years and finally be able to see it myself.
As we came together to share in our excitement my dad and I didn’t notice a shadow standing behind us. “Excuse me fellas – how you doing?” A calm voice dictated. We turned around and were met with a warm smile from a hearty looking farmer, that man is Lorne. Owner of the garage, and many other buildings in town.
We spent two hours talking with Lorne picking his brain about the town’s history; he’s an animated human who shares a deep love of preserving history.
“A lot has changed over the years. But one thing stays the same, you photographers keep sharing it’s story. And honestly – I love that. I don’t really care that you’re sifting through my old buildings, you’re taking that risk upon yourself. But if it keeps the town’s soul alive I’m okay with it. Just be careful, a ton of these buildings are on their last legs.” What a humble way of thinking from one of the original townspeople. He could see we weren’t there to pilfer or vandalize – but to capture its magic.
He waves his hand towards the old corner store. “My dad used to own that, and eventually my brother took over but had to close it when his family moved out of town. My sister-in-law owns the home you explored on the east end; it was a beauty in its time. I come back here when I can to nab parts off my old equipment. They don’t make it like they used to, and this old iron still can be refurbished with some elbow grease.” He laughs and takes in his surroundings. “you know they want to knock it all down…”
I sit stunned. “Who wants to, why?” I stutter. Lorne looks down and kicks the dirt. “Theres a lot at play here Mike, behind the scenes its just a mess.” He looks hurt and disappointed. “there are some individuals here that think all the abandoned buildings are an eye sore, so they have used the excuse pests are invading the homes, its all bullshit. Ive tried arguing for the town’s integrity and history – but some people are bending some ears I don’t seem to have an influence on.” This unfortunately is the sad state of most buildings across the prairies – forgotten about and easily dismissed for its heritage value. To see and hear this firsthand was truly disheartening.
My dad shakes his hand, I lean in to do the same: “Thank you for your time Lorne, your time is everything to us on our trip.” He sighs and takes a step back “I love sharing my stories. Keep doing what your doing, we need more preservation efforts out here.” He then hops into his battered farm truck and waves goodbye. A genuinely kind human who understands our efforts better than most.
We spent the afternoon quietly roaming the town, snapping photos of memories left behind. Catching garter snakes roaming around the skeletal fences, stopping to have lunch amongst the ruins – all highlights of the day. We explored, we documented and most of all we had fun. It was the end of another outstanding road trip with my father, and we left feeling elated that we made the time to come out here. Life is short, never stop exploring.