My life in the ruins

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 14/04/2013 (4745 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

My first trip to the Trappist monastery ruins in St. Norbert was an unscheduled stop. I was on an old school bus on my way back from summer camp in the Whiteshell when the leaders told us that we were going to stop at a monastery. I can’t quite remember their reasoning. Maybe the bus was on the verge of overheating or we were running ahead of schedule, but most likely it was so a bus full of 15-year-olds and their summer-camp flames could stop and cool down.

Our instructions were to find a place to be alone and journal about the past week’s adventures. As we piled off the bus, I remember looking at the remnants of what appeared to be a castle, amazed that someone would abandon something so beautifully built.

I had no intentions of journaling, it was the summer. Who in their right mind would ever pick up a pen between June and September? My reflection would be done as I crawled through a tiny hole in the rubble and out of sight from the leaders. There I sat with my imagination quietly whirring, thinking about the thunderous silence that had once echoed in the halls of this great building. It must have been the fresh air; I remember the rest of the ride home being a fair bit quieter.

Several years later, after finishing school and enjoying a rigger’s life out west, I moved to Winnipeg to pursue a university education. Being from a farm and enjoying more space than I knew what to do with, I was soon sick of being cramped in the apartment with my two studious engineer roommates. I would spend my Saturday afternoons going for bike rides as far as my legs and curiosity would take me.

One particular spring day, I found myself on a back road just outside of St. Norbert. As I neared the town, I saw a road that looked familiar. My curiosity led me around the puddles, through the potholes to the monastery. I cycled through the ruins, taking in the beauty of the few remaining walls as I read all of the information plaques I could find.

Even though I could hear the vehicles pounding on the road across the river, I finally felt like I had found enough space to stretch out.

This became my fortress of solitude. As university and my roommates wore on me, I always knew I could find a piece of happiness just a short bike ride away.

A few years have passed since my Saturday afternoon excursions to the monastery. I don’t spend nearly enough time on my bicycle and my trips to the ruins have more and more weekdays between them, but I do manage to get there from time to time.

My solitary getaways have evolved into walks for two around the gardens. When I do manage to sneak away and take a few minutes from my day, I still marvel at the beauty of the once magnificent monastery that now lies in reconstructed ruins.

Colin Penner grew up on a farm outside of Elm Creek. He currently lives with his wife Lori and son Wren in Winnipeg. Colin works as an agriculture rep and he farms with his parents on the family farm. In his free time he rocks out a mean lead air guitar, and enjoys spending time walking aimlessly though the bush.

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