This is Joan's email to Helen and Bob
In spite of knowing you don't like long emails, I think you might get a kick out of the latest adventure we had. I wrote this up for Dave's blog,but considering the slant, it might end up onthe cutting room floor. This place was just north of Cache Creek and I wish we'd gone there rather than where we did in CC. There was a roadhouse to tour, a house, a stagecoach ride, and a dinner of ribs and chicken wit apple pie!
Here's the other part of the story:
Most things are my fault. Dave can figure out the connectivity to any thought process or activity with a bad ending to a mistake I have clearly made. The other day, I didn't have the end point programmed into the GPS and although I wanted to do it quickly, it was my fault and was not allowed to go near the GPS until we were good and lost, clearly because I wasn't quick enough to grab the GPS to make it right. Fault is important to Dave, and even as I write this, I know it will be the reason something is my fault. I remember learning about "if - then" clauses and logic in Gr 12 Math, thought I understood, but now forty five years later, I finally understand that I did not.
This is why I take great delight in telling what happened today. Let's start with, it was probably my fault, and get that out of the way. I can't tell you why yet, but Dave will. We pulled into our next night at Hat Creek Ranch. I blurted out something about registering as we passed the sign, but Dave said we'd do it later after we picked out our spot. Once in, we set up, had a drink, sat to enjoy the sudden sun and heat, and then went off to find out about the tour of the ranch, and, oh yes, to register. The Blarn and I stayed outside because it's his fault he's a dog and can't go in to most of these places even though Dave asks about him every time. I can't stand the rejection, so I stay outside with him. Dave came out sheepishly and said we had to move. Someone else had reserved our spot and the one beside it. He said the sign didn't make it clear and I didn't read it aloud to him again as we went by it.
You know what they say about moving short distances: they are more likely to take longer and are more trouble. Actually, I think we said that after moving a block from Westbury to Bellcrest. I don't actually think it was anyone famous who originally said it. So, we went into our routine of prepping the trailer, moving the blocks, putting up the jacks and hitching trailer to truck.
Blarn and I walked over to the new site and prepared to guide Dave in. He wheeled around rapidly and started to back up. Klunk. What? Dave hopped out of the truck, and said, "it's the microwave". I rolled my eyes. That microwave has used up three or four lives already. He looked into the trailer and declared, "it's face down this time". More eye rolling, and I mentally totted up how many more days we had to go. Simultaneously, we both shrieked: "the truck!" which had taken the opportunity to sneakily start rolling forward to try to escape to Whistler without us. Yup, Blarn and I were in the campsite, Dave was behind the trailer, and I don't think I was that bad at Grade 12 math not to be able to figure out that no other people were left, and that truck was on its own. Someone must have forgotten to set the parking brake. The image of the truck and trailer rolling forward on a bunny hill compared to any hill at Blackcomb had nothing to do with the terror in our own minds.
DAVE'S ADDITION
I ran like hell to catch the truck. Had to jump in while it was moving. Thank goodness I'd left the door open. There are some my age that might thrown up there hands and cried as the whole rig disappeared over the horizon. I felt like the Lone Ranger leaping onto Silver. Hi yo Barbie!
It's not important about what happened, but when I stuck my head into the trailer I thought the smell of gas might be. I told Dave. "I'll finish unhooking first," he muttered. I thought I'd better have a look, and saw the microwave had knocked one of the gas stove knobs to an on position. You're seeing the same pattern that I am, aren't you? As my grandmother used to say when something jumped in her way to stub her toe, "damn these inanimate objects." That microwave can and will be replaced. It has a lot of fault on its spindly uneven only-three-left little legs. IF it falls, THEN it is gone. Have I got that if-then stuff figured out yet? Or am I in trouble and at fault once again?
We decided to enjoy dinner at the ranch and to use the time saved to plan where we would put the new microwave and a better place for the television, too. These damn inanimate objects sure can take it out of you, and there are so many of them. That's probably why it could be my fault. I think I figured it out myself this time, or maybe I'm starting to think like Dave.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Whitehorse June 25
When Bob and Helen turned in their van they were hit with two unpleasant surprises. They received a ticket for going through a red light somewhere down on the lower mainland. We wouldn't have been surprised if the ticket had originated while they were following us since there were many times we'd gone through an amber and they'd followed close behind. The second shock was the Canadream refusal to pay for the tire they purchased. They claimed it was "damage incurred during the rental period". Bob and Helen had been told on the phone to "go ahead with any necessary repairs". After these disappointments we drove them into town to the Edgewater Hotel and a quick lunch in the sun at an outdoor cafe across the street. Joan and I bought a print featuring Robert Service's cabin.
We converged on Freda's condo for a second but quieter visit and returned her album. We toured a special place on the river called Miles Canyon where the walls are vertical basalt columns and the water surges through with great force. The canyon is spanned by a pedestrian suspension bridge. Blarney was fine until we reached the middle and it began to sway, then he wanted off pronto, just like Joan.
More partying! We visited Gina's cabin on Marsh Lake about 40 minutes out of Whitehorse and were happy to find David, Dory and Jessie already there. Had a great tour of both cabins and many goodies and stories.
Blarney was a slug getting up after his wild partying on the river. I've never known him to be slow to the breakfast table! We literally kicked him out of bed!
We converged on Freda's condo for a second but quieter visit and returned her album. We toured a special place on the river called Miles Canyon where the walls are vertical basalt columns and the water surges through with great force. The canyon is spanned by a pedestrian suspension bridge. Blarney was fine until we reached the middle and it began to sway, then he wanted off pronto, just like Joan.
More partying! We visited Gina's cabin on Marsh Lake about 40 minutes out of Whitehorse and were happy to find David, Dory and Jessie already there. Had a great tour of both cabins and many goodies and stories.
Blarney was a slug getting up after his wild partying on the river. I've never known him to be slow to the breakfast table! We literally kicked him out of bed!
Skagway to Whitehorse June 24
The ride from Skagway to Whitehorse is winding and through high divides with winds and snow patches. The border point in on a mountain ridge marked by a huge Inukshuk erected by Kiwanis service clubs. There are many wonderful views.
We arrived at the Hi Country RV on the outskirts of Whitehorse in the early afternoon and were surprised to meet Helen almost immediately. We booked a site sharing a backyard with them in this very busy place. None of the spaces were wide enough for large vehicles. A few minutes after our arrival a huge fifth wheel with two very wide slideouts moved in next door. When their slideout was extended it was just 6 inches from our picnic table!
Gina and Freda came about 4 oclock to lead us out to David Storey's large property for a barbecue. David and Dory keep a busy hobby farm with chickens, goats, horses and dogs. The dogs were a pack of four that swirled around Blarney the moment he hit the ground running and barking. They were sniffing every part of him with noses as big as his head. I let him off the leash and after two or three minutes of swirling about they settled to an uneasy peace. By the time we reached the river's edge for a barbecue a few minutes later, Blarney was the little buddy for a couple of them and led some wild and hilarious chases through our chairs and under the tables.
We all had great visits reminiscing with Freda. It had been forty years since Bob and Helen had seen David and about thirty since Ken and Freda had visited New Zealand. Everyone enjoyed browsing a thirty year old album that Freda had along.
We arrived at the Hi Country RV on the outskirts of Whitehorse in the early afternoon and were surprised to meet Helen almost immediately. We booked a site sharing a backyard with them in this very busy place. None of the spaces were wide enough for large vehicles. A few minutes after our arrival a huge fifth wheel with two very wide slideouts moved in next door. When their slideout was extended it was just 6 inches from our picnic table!
Gina and Freda came about 4 oclock to lead us out to David Storey's large property for a barbecue. David and Dory keep a busy hobby farm with chickens, goats, horses and dogs. The dogs were a pack of four that swirled around Blarney the moment he hit the ground running and barking. They were sniffing every part of him with noses as big as his head. I let him off the leash and after two or three minutes of swirling about they settled to an uneasy peace. By the time we reached the river's edge for a barbecue a few minutes later, Blarney was the little buddy for a couple of them and led some wild and hilarious chases through our chairs and under the tables.
We all had great visits reminiscing with Freda. It had been forty years since Bob and Helen had seen David and about thirty since Ken and Freda had visited New Zealand. Everyone enjoyed browsing a thirty year old album that Freda had along.
Haines to Skagway June 23
We entered Skagway after a scenic, 30 minute, $160, ferry ride. Three cruise ships were in the harbour, meaning about 4000 extra souls were roaming the streets. Hail former patrons! We'd been there twice before with the wallowing hoards.
The downtown Gardencity RV park was a busy place with a community laundry, no registration, no locked WC and double back-in spaces. This was to be a crowded park. Our host on seeing Blarney said, in a rich, southern drawl, "Ya wore that darn dog's legs right off!" Joan and I thought it was the funniest quote of the day.
Joan found a unique and very fine quilting shop. It was unique because almost every other shop in Skagway is souvenirs, T-shirts, jewelry, tours or restaurant. Blarney and I weaved among the tourists and eventually settled on a sunny bench near the shop. "You waiting too?" was a phrase I heard often. Blarney stayed under the bench behind my legs to catch the shade.
As tourists we did a tourist thing, we went to the Klondike graveyard and Reid Falls. The Falls were named after Reid (first name lost) who shot Soapy Smith dead but was fatally wounded himself. Soapy Smith was a notorious thug and con man in the wild days of 1898, that needed to be stopped. They're buried in the same graveyard although Reid has the largest tombstone.
We were busy taking snaps of the White Pass locomotive as it thundered past us on the way into town. Somewhere, Joan found mention of a photo contest, not too many details, but about the train doing its daily work. The contest never reappeared but we have many pictures of this popular train.
Later in the afternoon a heavy wind came up and we were reminded that Skagway is a native word for "windy place". I cycled a few back roads and discovered four large parking lots bulging with tour buses of every size. No doubt this town couldn't survive without the cruise ships.
We ran out of Blarney food and Joan bought him a standard can of dog food. After finding her glasses and reading the label she shoveled out more than half the can based on "recommendations for a small dog" printed on the label. Blarney was turning cartwheels! Later we discovered the recommendation was for a "daily allowance" not a singe meal. Since Blarney had already had breakfast and sundry snacks, he was smiling wickedly behind all the burps.
The downtown Gardencity RV park was a busy place with a community laundry, no registration, no locked WC and double back-in spaces. This was to be a crowded park. Our host on seeing Blarney said, in a rich, southern drawl, "Ya wore that darn dog's legs right off!" Joan and I thought it was the funniest quote of the day.
Joan found a unique and very fine quilting shop. It was unique because almost every other shop in Skagway is souvenirs, T-shirts, jewelry, tours or restaurant. Blarney and I weaved among the tourists and eventually settled on a sunny bench near the shop. "You waiting too?" was a phrase I heard often. Blarney stayed under the bench behind my legs to catch the shade.
As tourists we did a tourist thing, we went to the Klondike graveyard and Reid Falls. The Falls were named after Reid (first name lost) who shot Soapy Smith dead but was fatally wounded himself. Soapy Smith was a notorious thug and con man in the wild days of 1898, that needed to be stopped. They're buried in the same graveyard although Reid has the largest tombstone.
We were busy taking snaps of the White Pass locomotive as it thundered past us on the way into town. Somewhere, Joan found mention of a photo contest, not too many details, but about the train doing its daily work. The contest never reappeared but we have many pictures of this popular train.
Later in the afternoon a heavy wind came up and we were reminded that Skagway is a native word for "windy place". I cycled a few back roads and discovered four large parking lots bulging with tour buses of every size. No doubt this town couldn't survive without the cruise ships.
We ran out of Blarney food and Joan bought him a standard can of dog food. After finding her glasses and reading the label she shoveled out more than half the can based on "recommendations for a small dog" printed on the label. Blarney was turning cartwheels! Later we discovered the recommendation was for a "daily allowance" not a singe meal. Since Blarney had already had breakfast and sundry snacks, he was smiling wickedly behind all the burps.
Kluane Lake to Haines Junction
Joan and I said our goodbyes early and hit the road before 8am. We hoped to reach Haines by 3pm to meet some friends. The road was excellent and the views spectacular. We left the flat muskeg of permafrost and rolling, rutted roads and climbed into mountains and alpine. Three black bears, and two moose showed themselves along the route. By noon we reached Haines and found a spot at the Oceanside RV Park. It was about a dozen spaces above the beach which afforded us excellent views of the harbour. One cruise ship, the Zaandam, was in port. "Yup, it's Wednesday, cruise ship day," our host said.
We'd been to Haines about ten years ago and toured only the "Fort". This visit we had time for a little shopping and a drive around looking at all the changes. The town was very busy with traffic and walking tourists.
At 3:30 we left Blarney in the trailer and drove up the hill to the Pioneer Bar where we would meet Ted and Judy, Joan's internet travel friends who were cruising on the Zaandam. The Pioneer was billed as a typical Alaskan bar, a bit gloomy, rustic and walls covered with memorabilia. Two very noisy patrons were drinking at the bar but the rest of the place was empty. Right on 3:30 Ted and Judy arrived and we began sampling the local beers. There were many laughs and many pictures, some from a tripod set on the bar with the timer.
Somewhere along the highway coming into Haines, Blarney found odours of ground squirrels that sent his mind controls into a tail spin. He went down a steep, gravel slope before he realized he might not get back up. He wandered off into the hinterland without heeding his master's calls. Stubborn Daschund! He was smirking when he returned to the trailer!
We'd been to Haines about ten years ago and toured only the "Fort". This visit we had time for a little shopping and a drive around looking at all the changes. The town was very busy with traffic and walking tourists.
At 3:30 we left Blarney in the trailer and drove up the hill to the Pioneer Bar where we would meet Ted and Judy, Joan's internet travel friends who were cruising on the Zaandam. The Pioneer was billed as a typical Alaskan bar, a bit gloomy, rustic and walls covered with memorabilia. Two very noisy patrons were drinking at the bar but the rest of the place was empty. Right on 3:30 Ted and Judy arrived and we began sampling the local beers. There were many laughs and many pictures, some from a tripod set on the bar with the timer.
Somewhere along the highway coming into Haines, Blarney found odours of ground squirrels that sent his mind controls into a tail spin. He went down a steep, gravel slope before he realized he might not get back up. He wandered off into the hinterland without heeding his master's calls. Stubborn Daschund! He was smirking when he returned to the trailer!
Beaver Creek on the worst road ever!
We gasped great sighs of relief when the road surface finally became smooth again. Driving a rolling, potholed, sometimes washboard gravel surface put us on edge for many miles after it had ended. We would tense at every rise and slow for suspicious colour changes. We were very happy to end our driving day in a park called Cottonwood RV on Kluane Lake. About two clicks before the park we stopped and watched a brown (grizzly) bear grazing along the highway shoulder. It was the first time any of us had ever seen a grizzly in the wild.
Our sites allowed peekaboo views over the lake and the far off mountains. There were trees and a beach. Signs were all around warning against bears. Closeup bear pictures were posted around the office. No garbage was collected. We were expected to protect and haul out our own. The camp used generator power so 15 amps was standard. We were forewarned against using heating appliances that might blow a circuit. The wonderful location easily overshadowed any downside including some persistent "fish flies" and a few mosquitoes. This was our first time to feel bothered by bugs.
I launched my kayak almost immediately and paddled back the way we'd come thinking I might spy the bear again. I hugged the shore for a full thirty minutes but saw nothing, but the paddle was fresh and envigorating. Delicious, Costco barbecued ribs made a great end to our agonies on the bad road. It was the third meal of ribs since the journey began. It was also the last day with Bob and Helen. We would be parting ways. They would head to Whitehorse while we went to Haines and Skagway. Their journey would include Skagway after bussing to Carmack and then boarding a train. Their final leg home would be by ferry to Port Hardy.
Blarney and I chased the ball and the bugs along the shore of the lake. A narrow margin of sand bordered the water's edge and Blarney consistently carried the ball there when he retrieved it, so we began playing in the shallows. The water was close to freezing but it didn't stop him from going in over his chest to snap a ball.
Our sites allowed peekaboo views over the lake and the far off mountains. There were trees and a beach. Signs were all around warning against bears. Closeup bear pictures were posted around the office. No garbage was collected. We were expected to protect and haul out our own. The camp used generator power so 15 amps was standard. We were forewarned against using heating appliances that might blow a circuit. The wonderful location easily overshadowed any downside including some persistent "fish flies" and a few mosquitoes. This was our first time to feel bothered by bugs.
I launched my kayak almost immediately and paddled back the way we'd come thinking I might spy the bear again. I hugged the shore for a full thirty minutes but saw nothing, but the paddle was fresh and envigorating. Delicious, Costco barbecued ribs made a great end to our agonies on the bad road. It was the third meal of ribs since the journey began. It was also the last day with Bob and Helen. We would be parting ways. They would head to Whitehorse while we went to Haines and Skagway. Their journey would include Skagway after bussing to Carmack and then boarding a train. Their final leg home would be by ferry to Port Hardy.
Blarney and I chased the ball and the bugs along the shore of the lake. A narrow margin of sand bordered the water's edge and Blarney consistently carried the ball there when he retrieved it, so we began playing in the shallows. The water was close to freezing but it didn't stop him from going in over his chest to snap a ball.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Slana to Beaver Creek
It was our second time in Tok. This time we were searching for an interesting place to take a coffee break. We chose a place a long block from where we parked and as we approached two very large buses marked Holland America pulled up in front. People filed into the restaurant as we watched. Bob went in to investigate and reported, "Don't want to be getting a coffee there. There's at least a hundred people having a huge breakfast." We opted for coffee and snacks at the large Chevron Station. The had excellent curly fries!
The Waymark Motel and RV with Mini Mart is about the only business of significant size in Beaver Creek. It brings in busloads of tourists for wildlife tours and lectures. We chose to stay there because it broke up the journey along the worst piece of road we'd driven on to date. The next section proved to be even worse. Top speed about 40 kph, frequent braking for rolling humps and dips, intermittent gravel, a driving nightmare. One of the jacks on the back of the trailer fell down as we drove and snagged and bent. The Cottonwood park was like an oasis after a war zone.
Blarney had a mighty big scare. I'd thrown a ball behind a gravel pile near the back of the trailer park. He disappeared into some tall grass then I heard this viscious, snarling growl and saw a very large bristling dog/wolf leap out from a hidden kennel and strain against his short leash. Blarney abandoned the ball and headed straight for the trailer.
The Waymark Motel and RV with Mini Mart is about the only business of significant size in Beaver Creek. It brings in busloads of tourists for wildlife tours and lectures. We chose to stay there because it broke up the journey along the worst piece of road we'd driven on to date. The next section proved to be even worse. Top speed about 40 kph, frequent braking for rolling humps and dips, intermittent gravel, a driving nightmare. One of the jacks on the back of the trailer fell down as we drove and snagged and bent. The Cottonwood park was like an oasis after a war zone.
Blarney had a mighty big scare. I'd thrown a ball behind a gravel pile near the back of the trailer park. He disappeared into some tall grass then I heard this viscious, snarling growl and saw a very large bristling dog/wolf leap out from a hidden kennel and strain against his short leash. Blarney abandoned the ball and headed straight for the trailer.
Valdez to Slana June 19
Sometime during the morning ride out of Valdez, Bob noticed his left rear tire was losing air. About an hour later the issue was serious, it was soon going to be to soft to roll on. We were about 50 miles from the next decent stop listed in our Milepost or on the GPS but we decided to push on as long as the tire would allow. Almost immediately we came upon a resort that had been posted as closed but had a couple standing outside chatting. Lucky break! They offered us help with the tire change, something neither Bob nor I had attempted for about 30 years, and never on such a large vehicle. Believe it or not, we were able to loosen the power tightened nuts, lower the spare and crank up the vehicle. Later Bob wrote in his journal, "David and Bob changed the tire. They are both super human geniuses." We felt lucky to have found a place to do the work and even luckier when a garage 30 miles later was open on Sunday. The tire was ruined but our luck persisted. A pair of new tires was available that weren't to be sold individually. Another van pulled up who also needed one tire the same size. Nice! An hour or so later, everyone left happy!
We began a memorable ride along a road called the TOK Cutoff. It was rough, with wave like rolls and open fissures that could suck in a wheel. The microwave took its second dive off the shelf to the floor where we decided it must always ride in future. It was saved from total destruction by landing on Blarney's dish which shattered into small pieces. This little "GoldStar" is very "solid state" to say the least. One foot is gone and the inside tray is now a double paper plate, but it still warms my porridge and cooks a few veggies.
We gave ourselves a break by stopping at a very unusual RV park in Slana, part way along the Tok Cutoff. The place, called the Hart D Ranch, is named after the elderly artist who runs it, Mary de Hart. It's many acres with rooms and RV spaces, but it was empty except for us. One very long wall in the central area near the washrooms is filled with memorabilia about the lady and her property. She was once famous for her heating system but it burned and cost her hundreds of thousands. Her art has been recognized from afar, sculpture and paintings as well as building designs. She's trying to sell. "They all dead," she said of her family. "I'm the last one." The night we were there she was out whippering her huge grass spaces until ten.
Our landlady was up early, looking very made up, as she walked her little, blue ribbon winning dog across the property to the Post Office. As well as running this large property single-handedly, she also acts as local post mistress. Blarney was browsing without his leash and instantly spotted the tiny, fussy, fluffy white canine. He took off after after her at short-legged speed, barking in his most agressive volume. He was almost upon her, but in a nick of time the lady snatched her little pet up to her bosom. Not a wonderful moment for Blarney or all of us watching!
We began a memorable ride along a road called the TOK Cutoff. It was rough, with wave like rolls and open fissures that could suck in a wheel. The microwave took its second dive off the shelf to the floor where we decided it must always ride in future. It was saved from total destruction by landing on Blarney's dish which shattered into small pieces. This little "GoldStar" is very "solid state" to say the least. One foot is gone and the inside tray is now a double paper plate, but it still warms my porridge and cooks a few veggies.
We gave ourselves a break by stopping at a very unusual RV park in Slana, part way along the Tok Cutoff. The place, called the Hart D Ranch, is named after the elderly artist who runs it, Mary de Hart. It's many acres with rooms and RV spaces, but it was empty except for us. One very long wall in the central area near the washrooms is filled with memorabilia about the lady and her property. She was once famous for her heating system but it burned and cost her hundreds of thousands. Her art has been recognized from afar, sculpture and paintings as well as building designs. She's trying to sell. "They all dead," she said of her family. "I'm the last one." The night we were there she was out whippering her huge grass spaces until ten.
Our landlady was up early, looking very made up, as she walked her little, blue ribbon winning dog across the property to the Post Office. As well as running this large property single-handedly, she also acts as local post mistress. Blarney was browsing without his leash and instantly spotted the tiny, fussy, fluffy white canine. He took off after after her at short-legged speed, barking in his most agressive volume. He was almost upon her, but in a nick of time the lady snatched her little pet up to her bosom. Not a wonderful moment for Blarney or all of us watching!
Valdez June 18
The ferry dropped us four blocks from the town centre and the Eagle's Rest RV Park, another huge patch of gravel with some 100 sites. Another grassed area was used by tenters. Ours wasn't the only RV park in the town centre. Two others were equally as large. Folks in RVs come here in the thousands to go fishing. The boat harbour covers several acres with at least four well-equipped, free cleaning and processing places. We met a large, happy native man who had his "office" in a blue deck chair at one of these spots. He professed to be the "fasted fish cleaner in the world!" We never saw him perform but watched several others work their magic.
We spent a rainy, laid back morning reading and loafing about with laundry and such. The weather cleared and warmed in the afternoon and I went hiking along the shore with Blarney and biked around the town after geocaches for a couple of hours. Sometime during this slow day choices were made for RV destinations for the next couple of stops. Late in the afternoon, all of us hung around the dock watching the fishing boats bring in their loads of halibut. Biggest was 167 pounds with many many lesser but still huge. Bob and Helen received word that a house sale in New Zealand had been finalized. Celebration time. We went to the Best Western dining room with views over the busy harbour. This memorable dinner began with wine and Alaskan King Crab and ended much later with yummy, lemon dessert.
A young boy "liked Blarney a lot". Joan invited him out in the middle of an open gravel patch where, much to his delight and others watching, she had Blarney perform all his moves. What will happen when we run out of liver treats?
We spent a rainy, laid back morning reading and loafing about with laundry and such. The weather cleared and warmed in the afternoon and I went hiking along the shore with Blarney and biked around the town after geocaches for a couple of hours. Sometime during this slow day choices were made for RV destinations for the next couple of stops. Late in the afternoon, all of us hung around the dock watching the fishing boats bring in their loads of halibut. Biggest was 167 pounds with many many lesser but still huge. Bob and Helen received word that a house sale in New Zealand had been finalized. Celebration time. We went to the Best Western dining room with views over the busy harbour. This memorable dinner began with wine and Alaskan King Crab and ended much later with yummy, lemon dessert.
A young boy "liked Blarney a lot". Joan invited him out in the middle of an open gravel patch where, much to his delight and others watching, she had Blarney perform all his moves. What will happen when we run out of liver treats?
Whittier to Valdez June 17
The morning at the Portage RV dawned bright and sunny so that the surrounding mountain ranges looked glorious. It was a 'Sound of Music' moment!
The 40s built tunnel that serves both rail and autos, takes about 7 minutes to drive. Our truck wheels played in the track groves but at 25 mph it was easy to keep a little to one side. It was exhilarating! Joan made movies and tried to capture the moment we saw 'light at the end of the tunnel'. The town of Whittier, busy terminus for trains and ferries, begins immediately upon leaving the tunnel. You have literally passed through the mountain range from the Portage valley and reached the coast of Prince William Sound. It's a striking contrast.
We had arrived in Whittier by 10 am but wouldn't be leaving on the ferry until 2:30. There was to be a long, but warm day ahead in this small town of 400 unusual souls.
Directly across from the ferry parking was a public boat launch. The lady controling the traffic in this very busy spot agreed to let me launch my kayak on the outside of the dock away from the traffic. With Bob's help carrying it across the street and down the long dock, I was able to launch quite painlessly. I paddled out of the huge harbour and across Prince William Bay to a seabird rookery on high cliffs. Three waterfalls came down the cliffs onto the shelf at the water's edge. I hailed a small boat that was working along the base of the cliff. They were scientists netting and tagging birds in hope of tracking their migratory patterns. Each time they hurled the net, thousands of birds would lift off, fly out a short way, then return and settle. I was happy I had a wide brimmed hat. Bob was waiting to help me lift out when I found my way back to the dock.
The ferry was small and the ground support very lean. At 11, the office doors opened and a single counter person added us to a hand drawn list of passengers because the computers 'were down'. The compound for vehicles was kept locked until a customer parked in front of the gate and went in to fetch the second worker who brought the key, checked ID and allowed entry. Blarney needed a ticket, "Just to keep track, no charge," she said. The numbers were worn off the parking lanes so the guy directed people by saying, "the one with the drain cover!" Once we were admitted the gate was closed. We looked out like caged animals. Lucky Blarney was small enough to crawl under the gate because no pets were allowed through the building to the great world outside.
We had heartbreak issues with Blarney. We expected to have visitation privileges on board the 6 hour ferry journey but found out quickly that this probably wouldn't happen. "On the short trips the car deck is closed!" the lady told us. "But the web page said we could go down every hour!" On board, after agonizing over Blarney's fate of 6 hours in the trailer alone, we discovered our worst nightmare was true. Our neighbour in the line said about his dog, "Oh, he's fine. He's used to being alone all day." Blarney had never been alone longer than about 4 hours and never in the trailer. As the journey neared its end, we were near the head of the line to go below. All was well. Blarney was as excited as we were and he held his bladder like a trooper on parade.
Loading was also a strange thing to behold for folks used to the double ender BC Ferries. We loaded in the stern but left through a starboard side gate. Big rigs had to do a couple of shuffles to make the turn. The boat is small, probably no more than 30 cars and expensive. Our fare was $463 while Bob with less length cost in the $300 range but well worth it thanks to the weather.
The scenery on the run through the Prince William Sound was absolutely stunning. Once again we were blessed with clear, sunny skies. It was mountain view after mountain view with camera clicks and oohs and ahs non stop.
The 40s built tunnel that serves both rail and autos, takes about 7 minutes to drive. Our truck wheels played in the track groves but at 25 mph it was easy to keep a little to one side. It was exhilarating! Joan made movies and tried to capture the moment we saw 'light at the end of the tunnel'. The town of Whittier, busy terminus for trains and ferries, begins immediately upon leaving the tunnel. You have literally passed through the mountain range from the Portage valley and reached the coast of Prince William Sound. It's a striking contrast.
We had arrived in Whittier by 10 am but wouldn't be leaving on the ferry until 2:30. There was to be a long, but warm day ahead in this small town of 400 unusual souls.
Directly across from the ferry parking was a public boat launch. The lady controling the traffic in this very busy spot agreed to let me launch my kayak on the outside of the dock away from the traffic. With Bob's help carrying it across the street and down the long dock, I was able to launch quite painlessly. I paddled out of the huge harbour and across Prince William Bay to a seabird rookery on high cliffs. Three waterfalls came down the cliffs onto the shelf at the water's edge. I hailed a small boat that was working along the base of the cliff. They were scientists netting and tagging birds in hope of tracking their migratory patterns. Each time they hurled the net, thousands of birds would lift off, fly out a short way, then return and settle. I was happy I had a wide brimmed hat. Bob was waiting to help me lift out when I found my way back to the dock.
The ferry was small and the ground support very lean. At 11, the office doors opened and a single counter person added us to a hand drawn list of passengers because the computers 'were down'. The compound for vehicles was kept locked until a customer parked in front of the gate and went in to fetch the second worker who brought the key, checked ID and allowed entry. Blarney needed a ticket, "Just to keep track, no charge," she said. The numbers were worn off the parking lanes so the guy directed people by saying, "the one with the drain cover!" Once we were admitted the gate was closed. We looked out like caged animals. Lucky Blarney was small enough to crawl under the gate because no pets were allowed through the building to the great world outside.
We had heartbreak issues with Blarney. We expected to have visitation privileges on board the 6 hour ferry journey but found out quickly that this probably wouldn't happen. "On the short trips the car deck is closed!" the lady told us. "But the web page said we could go down every hour!" On board, after agonizing over Blarney's fate of 6 hours in the trailer alone, we discovered our worst nightmare was true. Our neighbour in the line said about his dog, "Oh, he's fine. He's used to being alone all day." Blarney had never been alone longer than about 4 hours and never in the trailer. As the journey neared its end, we were near the head of the line to go below. All was well. Blarney was as excited as we were and he held his bladder like a trooper on parade.
Loading was also a strange thing to behold for folks used to the double ender BC Ferries. We loaded in the stern but left through a starboard side gate. Big rigs had to do a couple of shuffles to make the turn. The boat is small, probably no more than 30 cars and expensive. Our fare was $463 while Bob with less length cost in the $300 range but well worth it thanks to the weather.
The scenery on the run through the Prince William Sound was absolutely stunning. Once again we were blessed with clear, sunny skies. It was mountain view after mountain view with camera clicks and oohs and ahs non stop.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Facing the Portage Glacier: June 16
The day we left Seward the sky cleared and the spectacular mountains all around were revealed. We were in awe of the views. I ran Blarney along the shore path on my bicycle. Everyone we met was smiling and happy to see the sun.
Only one RV park was offering hookups in the Portage, Whittier area. When we arrived two men were working on the single, lane bridge that crossed the creek leading onto the property. They had two heavy cables strung across that were a few inches above the bridge deck. We opened our window to chat to one of the workers and mosquitoes began collecting and filling the cab. The man talked slowly and seemed oblivious to our anxiety over the bugs. "Go slowly," he said. "We'll be watching." Each man stood on a cable while we slowly drove over them. Not a good beginning! The park was an acreage of gravel with posts holding electrical outlets and a few porta potties tucked away behind a building. The views on all sides were all breathtaking, snowcapped mountains. We had the whole space to ourselves for $39.
Portage Lake formed from the melt of the glacier with the same name. Huge bergs of ice dotted the lake near the visitor centre. Two very large, translucent blue ones, were parked immediately in front of the building and we debated whether they had been towed there on purpose. Later we discovered all was natural and the bergs would be gone in about a week. Most of the smaller ones melted in a single day.
We booked passage on the MV Ptarmigan to have a one hour sail past the front edge of glacier. The boat was spacious and comfortable with a wide open viewing deck up top. Everyone hoped to see a closeup of "calving" but it was not to be. I swear many of us were using telepathy to try and mentally will some pieces to fall. The captain said, "We've been expecting that tall bit to fall for days." Didn't happen, but the trip was well worth the $29 for the close views of the ice. The boat passed across the face three times. The next morning as we drove by the lake, many new pieces of ice seemed to be crowding the bay. Did it calve minutes after we left?
Blarney discovered the scent of the snowshoe rabbits around the campsite. We had a few tense moments when he disappeared into the dense foliage. Bears were also in the area. No barks or snuffling, no cracking branches! Ah! Joan squeaked a ball and out he came no worse for wear!
Only one RV park was offering hookups in the Portage, Whittier area. When we arrived two men were working on the single, lane bridge that crossed the creek leading onto the property. They had two heavy cables strung across that were a few inches above the bridge deck. We opened our window to chat to one of the workers and mosquitoes began collecting and filling the cab. The man talked slowly and seemed oblivious to our anxiety over the bugs. "Go slowly," he said. "We'll be watching." Each man stood on a cable while we slowly drove over them. Not a good beginning! The park was an acreage of gravel with posts holding electrical outlets and a few porta potties tucked away behind a building. The views on all sides were all breathtaking, snowcapped mountains. We had the whole space to ourselves for $39.
Portage Lake formed from the melt of the glacier with the same name. Huge bergs of ice dotted the lake near the visitor centre. Two very large, translucent blue ones, were parked immediately in front of the building and we debated whether they had been towed there on purpose. Later we discovered all was natural and the bergs would be gone in about a week. Most of the smaller ones melted in a single day.
We booked passage on the MV Ptarmigan to have a one hour sail past the front edge of glacier. The boat was spacious and comfortable with a wide open viewing deck up top. Everyone hoped to see a closeup of "calving" but it was not to be. I swear many of us were using telepathy to try and mentally will some pieces to fall. The captain said, "We've been expecting that tall bit to fall for days." Didn't happen, but the trip was well worth the $29 for the close views of the ice. The boat passed across the face three times. The next morning as we drove by the lake, many new pieces of ice seemed to be crowding the bay. Did it calve minutes after we left?
Blarney discovered the scent of the snowshoe rabbits around the campsite. We had a few tense moments when he disappeared into the dense foliage. Bears were also in the area. No barks or snuffling, no cracking branches! Ah! Joan squeaked a ball and out he came no worse for wear!
A Day in Seward: Jun 14/15
We began our journey back the way we came retracing the route toward Anchorage and then turning west again to the small town of Seward. It rained all through the journey so there really were no views but the river near Cooper Landing was still lined with diehard fishermen.
Seward has utilized many acres of waterfront to provide campsites of all types. We were pleased to take a $30 space, a few rows above the shoreline trail, with views over the bay, the cruise ship terminal and the mountains that teased us with snowy flashes through the cloud cover. The rain continued!
I met a chap from Seward walking his miniature dachshund and mentioned the bad weather. "Don't come to Seward if you're looking for sunshine," he said. It was raining hard through the night and all morning as we hung about grumbling.
Seward has a world class aquarium and ocean research facility which we toured as the rain pattered outside. We were most impressed with the bird exhibit which allowed us to stand inside with the shore birds and view them underwater when they dove. We became quite obsessed with a single bird, the King Eider, that had a very colourful head and neck. Many photos were taken! Turned out he wasn't really from the area but a southern import.
The Exit Glacier is only a few miles out of Seward. A grand, wide trail leads to the face of the glacier where you can feel the icy breeze streaming from it. It was a pleasant one mile hike in sunshine! That's right! The weather changed. We got a break from the rain and it coincided perfectly with our walk. By the time we were back at the trailer the rain had begun again so I had to lower the awning to shelter the barbecue.
Seward has utilized many acres of waterfront to provide campsites of all types. We were pleased to take a $30 space, a few rows above the shoreline trail, with views over the bay, the cruise ship terminal and the mountains that teased us with snowy flashes through the cloud cover. The rain continued!
I met a chap from Seward walking his miniature dachshund and mentioned the bad weather. "Don't come to Seward if you're looking for sunshine," he said. It was raining hard through the night and all morning as we hung about grumbling.
Seward has a world class aquarium and ocean research facility which we toured as the rain pattered outside. We were most impressed with the bird exhibit which allowed us to stand inside with the shore birds and view them underwater when they dove. We became quite obsessed with a single bird, the King Eider, that had a very colourful head and neck. Many photos were taken! Turned out he wasn't really from the area but a southern import.
The Exit Glacier is only a few miles out of Seward. A grand, wide trail leads to the face of the glacier where you can feel the icy breeze streaming from it. It was a pleasant one mile hike in sunshine! That's right! The weather changed. We got a break from the rain and it coincided perfectly with our walk. By the time we were back at the trailer the rain had begun again so I had to lower the awning to shelter the barbecue.
Homer Has Rain: June 13
When we surfaced from our darkened, sleeping den on our one full day in Homer, it was raining. It's the first rain we've had this whole trip! The mountains were in a cloud. Everything was cold and damp. It was a transformed landscape. We were not pleased. I decided not to go kayaking. My bike seat was wet. We hung around the trailer waiting for a break. Joan resorted to doing our laundry. Oh foul day!
The helpful lady at the Visitor's Centre told us about two eagle nests in the vicinity. We went looking. We found no nests but had fantastic views looking over the 180º of mountains, the town and the long, busy spit.
Believe it or not, Homer has a developing wine industry that specializes in blending local berries with imported grape juice. Rhubarb and blueberries grow like weeds in the area so these wines were straight, no grapes. We tried both at the tasting bar and came away with a few bottles. The winery was beautifully landscaped with a cascading creek and large pond filled with orange fish. Rhubarb was in many of the borders as an ornamental. Blarney peed in a border.
The helpful lady at the Visitor's Centre told us about two eagle nests in the vicinity. We went looking. We found no nests but had fantastic views looking over the 180º of mountains, the town and the long, busy spit.
Believe it or not, Homer has a developing wine industry that specializes in blending local berries with imported grape juice. Rhubarb and blueberries grow like weeds in the area so these wines were straight, no grapes. We tried both at the tasting bar and came away with a few bottles. The winery was beautifully landscaped with a cascading creek and large pond filled with orange fish. Rhubarb was in many of the borders as an ornamental. Blarney peed in a border.
Home and the Spit: June 12
Moose sightings have become passée. We passed a mother with two calves and didn't bother stopping. Later, not far from a place called Cooper Landing, we happened on a fishery opening for sockeye. The river bank was shoulder to shoulder, fly fisherman doing what is locally referred to as "combat fishing". That's when someone yells "fish on" and all the other guys with dagger eyes have to bring in their lines and salivate while they watch. It's combative when a new guy shows up and tries to weasle his way into the line. We talked with a would-be fisherman who said, "It cost me $140 for the licence, 6$ for parking and and $11 fort the Russian ferry. I decided to go buy my fish at Costco!"
Bob is becoming a little spoiled. We stopped at a roadside motel/restaurant in a place that was called "Clamshell" something. We were desperate for our mid morning coffee break. The place had handwritten, illegible signs in the parking lot and potholes like small lakes. I wasn't first inside but I understand the first reaction was horror at the visible dirt on some surfaces. Looking at the menu, which was a "greasy spoon" special, Bob said in his heavily accented Kiwi, "Oh, they don't seem to be listing their coffees!" Joan was quick to point out that only one kind of coffee came from this kind of cafe, thick, strong and probably old. The truth be told, she was right!
Homer is famous for its three mile long spit which of course has numerous campsites. We chose Homer Spit RV Park, right at the end, next to a new condo development and hotel. Everywhere is rough gravel and boulders, the sites could almost be called unimproved, but with a 20 amp power plug the owners call in $48 a night for about 100 sites. The washrooms are open 24 hours but the showers are only open from 8 to 8. You must go to the office, pay a dollar and then be "buzzed in" through the door. At 8 in the morning, when the temperature is a chilly 10º, the rush is on to get one of the four cosy showers. Thank goodness the water is hot and plentiful! We were shocked at the cost for such a rough place so we checked on another site up the spit that had smooth ground and water, sewer and cable. Smack me to bring me back to reality! They wanted $78 plus tax for their fancy parking space!
The weather turned cold. A wind blew constantly so we took periodic forays out onto the beach, dressed in several layers, to play with Blarney. Eagles are all around. Once we frightened off three that were loitering near the water's edge.
Up in town we discovered the Pratt Museum. It's filled with things of local interest and has a garden filled with indigenous plants. The gardener took us for a tour, showing off his many berries and flowers. Blarney and I explored the woods around while the others walked throught he exhibits.
The spit has a quaint and colourful row of shops and restaurants strung along a boardwalk. Busy! Many automobiles, many tourists. We had a wonderful meal looking over the small boat harbour but it took forty minutes to arrive. We checked out a bar that has made its name by having patrons autograph one dollar bills. The walls and ceilings are papered with them.
Bob is becoming a little spoiled. We stopped at a roadside motel/restaurant in a place that was called "Clamshell" something. We were desperate for our mid morning coffee break. The place had handwritten, illegible signs in the parking lot and potholes like small lakes. I wasn't first inside but I understand the first reaction was horror at the visible dirt on some surfaces. Looking at the menu, which was a "greasy spoon" special, Bob said in his heavily accented Kiwi, "Oh, they don't seem to be listing their coffees!" Joan was quick to point out that only one kind of coffee came from this kind of cafe, thick, strong and probably old. The truth be told, she was right!
Homer is famous for its three mile long spit which of course has numerous campsites. We chose Homer Spit RV Park, right at the end, next to a new condo development and hotel. Everywhere is rough gravel and boulders, the sites could almost be called unimproved, but with a 20 amp power plug the owners call in $48 a night for about 100 sites. The washrooms are open 24 hours but the showers are only open from 8 to 8. You must go to the office, pay a dollar and then be "buzzed in" through the door. At 8 in the morning, when the temperature is a chilly 10º, the rush is on to get one of the four cosy showers. Thank goodness the water is hot and plentiful! We were shocked at the cost for such a rough place so we checked on another site up the spit that had smooth ground and water, sewer and cable. Smack me to bring me back to reality! They wanted $78 plus tax for their fancy parking space!
The weather turned cold. A wind blew constantly so we took periodic forays out onto the beach, dressed in several layers, to play with Blarney. Eagles are all around. Once we frightened off three that were loitering near the water's edge.
Up in town we discovered the Pratt Museum. It's filled with things of local interest and has a garden filled with indigenous plants. The gardener took us for a tour, showing off his many berries and flowers. Blarney and I explored the woods around while the others walked throught he exhibits.
The spit has a quaint and colourful row of shops and restaurants strung along a boardwalk. Busy! Many automobiles, many tourists. We had a wonderful meal looking over the small boat harbour but it took forty minutes to arrive. We checked out a bar that has made its name by having patrons autograph one dollar bills. The walls and ceilings are papered with them.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Hope to Kenai
"Wow! Look at the mountains. They're everywhere." I said. "Amazing!" Joan agreed. This drive between Anchorage and Kenai was one of the most spectacular Alaska has to offer.
Kenai was holding a Saturday public market in the information centre parking lot. We all had wonderful hot dogs made from different types of meat. I had bratwerst, Bob ordered Polish, and Joan and Helen had reindeer.
The Russian Orthodox Church in Kenai, built in the 1870s, is a reminder of the Russian influence here. The old, shaggy, white-haired priest, dressed in authentic robes of the day, told us about the heritage building and trappings of the religion. "Don't forget to go next door to the gift shop and see the souvenirs from Russia," he said as we were leaving.
A cold wind was blowing when we reached Beluga Lookout on the bluffs above the beach in Kenai. We jumped out immediately and steered Blarney over to the bluff's edge. A sign read, "Keep OFF the Bluff." The view over the ocean was spectacular. We had a site that allowed views from our windows. Fantastic!
During a walk on the beach we saw some fishermen pull in a flounder. While we were busy checking it out, Blarney ate their discarded sardine bait. I was on him but only in time to watch him gulp it down. Later, in his bed back in the trailer, he threatened us with a couple of gurgly burps. "Put him out!" Joan yelled. He held it down and the panic passed.
Kenai was holding a Saturday public market in the information centre parking lot. We all had wonderful hot dogs made from different types of meat. I had bratwerst, Bob ordered Polish, and Joan and Helen had reindeer.
The Russian Orthodox Church in Kenai, built in the 1870s, is a reminder of the Russian influence here. The old, shaggy, white-haired priest, dressed in authentic robes of the day, told us about the heritage building and trappings of the religion. "Don't forget to go next door to the gift shop and see the souvenirs from Russia," he said as we were leaving.
A cold wind was blowing when we reached Beluga Lookout on the bluffs above the beach in Kenai. We jumped out immediately and steered Blarney over to the bluff's edge. A sign read, "Keep OFF the Bluff." The view over the ocean was spectacular. We had a site that allowed views from our windows. Fantastic!
During a walk on the beach we saw some fishermen pull in a flounder. While we were busy checking it out, Blarney ate their discarded sardine bait. I was on him but only in time to watch him gulp it down. Later, in his bed back in the trailer, he threatened us with a couple of gurgly burps. "Put him out!" Joan yelled. He held it down and the panic passed.
Anchorage to Hope
The Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, with its rescued brown bears, caribou, muskox, bison and other smaller critters, drew us in along this route. The bears were worth the stop. We had a chatty conversation with a young animal custodian who told us how they use a front end loader to dangle the meat for the bears. If it's thrown in, one bear will grab it and take off. The meat is road kill moose that comes to them from highway maintenance. Meat that isn't suitable for humans comes to the bears.
We chose a campground in Hope called Alaska Dasha, note the Russian influence. Bob and Helen chose power only thinking they could fill their water tank and dump their gray water before they parked. There was a difference of ten dollars for a site with all three hookups. As Bob was draining his effluent, the boss lady arrived and insisted he must pay for the right. It was not a pleasant scene. Only three sites were occupied. The washrooms didn't open until 9 am and showers were a whopping $6 extra. Ugly!
Downtown Hope was rustic but charming. There was an RV park along the shore but no showers or water. Bob tried to visit the library but found it closed. We found a husband tending his wife's shop who had authored a book about golf! No golf course in sight. We were the first customers of the day at the pub, although it was 5pm. Not a lot happens in Hope, Alaska.
We chose a campground in Hope called Alaska Dasha, note the Russian influence. Bob and Helen chose power only thinking they could fill their water tank and dump their gray water before they parked. There was a difference of ten dollars for a site with all three hookups. As Bob was draining his effluent, the boss lady arrived and insisted he must pay for the right. It was not a pleasant scene. Only three sites were occupied. The washrooms didn't open until 9 am and showers were a whopping $6 extra. Ugly!
Downtown Hope was rustic but charming. There was an RV park along the shore but no showers or water. Bob tried to visit the library but found it closed. We found a husband tending his wife's shop who had authored a book about golf! No golf course in sight. We were the first customers of the day at the pub, although it was 5pm. Not a lot happens in Hope, Alaska.
Wasilla to Anchorage
There were many parks to choose from in Anchorage but after much deliberation we chose the Golden Nugget which was right in town. It was a huge park with more than a hundred spaces. We chose a spot in the farthest corner that was surrounded by a small grass area. We might have been isolated except on the opposite side of our lane a group called Alaska RV Adventures had a Humvee and about 20 other massive, bus RVs with tow vehicles. They had independent satellite reception for WiFi and TV. This was our second experience with a park that had evening entertainment. A poster near the washrooms advertised a group of "older" looking folks playing bluegrass. We checked them out but only a few folks hung around to listen. No comment. It was cold outside.
We made an event of breakfasting at the nearby Denny's. They didn't disappoint. Huge portions, huge customers and huge people serving. We avoided grits but among the four of us we had poached eggs, pancakes, omlettes, fried potatoes, sausage, bacon and more. We were amused by the server when she speeled a littany of different ways to prepare an egg. Too many decisions too early. Denny's also provided a geocache but left us frustrated when we didn't find it.
Blarney and the Anchorage Historical Museum occupied us for our day in Anchorage. "It's just another big city," was a phase I heard. The museum was special and the large lawn out front was Blarney's playground while we were inside. Blarney tried to steal a gardener's lunch. A Smithsonian exhibit detailing the lives of the major native groups throughout Alaska impressed us most. We found a small deli with outside seating that was out of the wind and faced the sun. Sandwiches and very fine people-watching! It was comfortable enough to snooze.
We made an event of breakfasting at the nearby Denny's. They didn't disappoint. Huge portions, huge customers and huge people serving. We avoided grits but among the four of us we had poached eggs, pancakes, omlettes, fried potatoes, sausage, bacon and more. We were amused by the server when she speeled a littany of different ways to prepare an egg. Too many decisions too early. Denny's also provided a geocache but left us frustrated when we didn't find it.
Blarney and the Anchorage Historical Museum occupied us for our day in Anchorage. "It's just another big city," was a phase I heard. The museum was special and the large lawn out front was Blarney's playground while we were inside. Blarney tried to steal a gardener's lunch. A Smithsonian exhibit detailing the lives of the major native groups throughout Alaska impressed us most. We found a small deli with outside seating that was out of the wind and faced the sun. Sandwiches and very fine people-watching! It was comfortable enough to snooze.
Denali to Wasilla
We were greeted at the downtown Denali RV Park by a jolly, black lady from the Bahamas. She and her husband have run the park for 12 summers but spend their winters in Anchorage. We stayed one night in this small, busy, gravel pit behind the boardwalk because our first choice place was closed. The conversation during checkin immediately turned to wildlife sightings. The night before, the manager and a friend had been out at 10:30 and seen a lynx and bear. We made a decision to drive the 13 miles into the park at least twice.
All eyes were straining to spot a living creature as we made the first trip into the park. Nothing! We turned around somewhat soberly and began the journey back. Once again everyone got eye strain peering into the foliage. "An eagle!" Joan cried. Many yards off, at the very top of a lonely spruce, we could just make out the white top of the eagle's head. Not much, but it seemed huge at the time. A few minutes later we came upon a moose feeding at the edge of the road. "We'll come again early tomorrow," someone suggested. And there it was, our second safari began at 5:30 am! The highlight that early was wonderful views of McKinley that most people don't get to see because of cloud cover. It was enough. We were happy.
The next day we had an unplanned separation from Bob and Helen. We had been investigating potential rest stops for a lunch break and thought they were behind us. We pulled into a small park that was off the main highway and suddenly they were no longer following. Oops! About two stressful hours later we pulled in to the Wasilla park we'd agreed on the night before and found them waiting. Happy reunion. We puzzled over Sarah Palin's hometown while we enjoyed happy hour.
All eyes were straining to spot a living creature as we made the first trip into the park. Nothing! We turned around somewhat soberly and began the journey back. Once again everyone got eye strain peering into the foliage. "An eagle!" Joan cried. Many yards off, at the very top of a lonely spruce, we could just make out the white top of the eagle's head. Not much, but it seemed huge at the time. A few minutes later we came upon a moose feeding at the edge of the road. "We'll come again early tomorrow," someone suggested. And there it was, our second safari began at 5:30 am! The highlight that early was wonderful views of McKinley that most people don't get to see because of cloud cover. It was enough. We were happy.
The next day we had an unplanned separation from Bob and Helen. We had been investigating potential rest stops for a lunch break and thought they were behind us. We pulled into a small park that was off the main highway and suddenly they were no longer following. Oops! About two stressful hours later we pulled in to the Wasilla park we'd agreed on the night before and found them waiting. Happy reunion. We puzzled over Sarah Palin's hometown while we enjoyed happy hour.
A Day in Fairbanks
Bus tours made a pickup right from our RV park so we decided Fairbanks was big enough for a city tour. We left Blarney perched on his table bed at 8:30 for a long three and a half hours which ended up being four. The tour covered the main highlights of the city, including the University of Alaska Museum and the dioramas or the four seasons at the Visitor Centre. I think we all have a facination with the ultra cold. Our guide, Bob, explained how the hairs around the edge of the parka hood afford a little prewarming of air coming in.
A wild, very vocal, little boy of about 8 was wheeling around the campsite on his bike. Blarney took after him barking and he was delighted. He came over without his bike and said, "Can you let him off so he can chase me." Later when he met me when I was riding my bike he said, "You're too old to ride a bike!"
A few steps away from our campsite we found a eight inch diametre tree felled by a beaver. It had one fence board during its fall. Another tree, maybe fourteen inches in diameter, was chewed half way through. It threatened a couple of campsites. No sign of the beavers.
I had a very pleasant paddle upstream along the Chena. The river runs through the city on a zig zag course. The water moves slowly but took some extra effort in a few narrow places. I passed a few drifting fishermen and several rafters coming lazily downstream.
Joan's blackout curtains are worth their weight in gold! It is often sunny when we go to bed. I use a couple of clips to hang a towel over the door and rig a tea towel around one of the skylights. The other windows and skylight are blacked out with the curtains. The bathroom skylight is uncovered so entering that bright, little space at night comes as a shock.
A wild, very vocal, little boy of about 8 was wheeling around the campsite on his bike. Blarney took after him barking and he was delighted. He came over without his bike and said, "Can you let him off so he can chase me." Later when he met me when I was riding my bike he said, "You're too old to ride a bike!"
A few steps away from our campsite we found a eight inch diametre tree felled by a beaver. It had one fence board during its fall. Another tree, maybe fourteen inches in diameter, was chewed half way through. It threatened a couple of campsites. No sign of the beavers.
I had a very pleasant paddle upstream along the Chena. The river runs through the city on a zig zag course. The water moves slowly but took some extra effort in a few narrow places. I passed a few drifting fishermen and several rafters coming lazily downstream.
Joan's blackout curtains are worth their weight in gold! It is often sunny when we go to bed. I use a couple of clips to hang a towel over the door and rig a tea towel around one of the skylights. The other windows and skylight are blacked out with the curtains. The bathroom skylight is uncovered so entering that bright, little space at night comes as a shock.
A Day in Fairbanks
Bus tours made a pickup right from our RV park so we decided Fairbanks was big enough for a city tour. We left Blarney perched on his table bed at 8:30 for a long three and a half hours which ended up being four. The tour covered the main highlights of the city, including the University of Alaska Museum and the dioramas or the four seasons at the Visitor Centre. I think we all have a facination with the ultra cold. Our guide, Bob, explained how the hairs around the edge of the parka hood afford a little prewarming of air coming in.
A wild, very vocal, little boy of about 8 was wheeling around the campsite on his bike. Blarney took after him barking and he was delighted. He came over without his bike and said, "Can you let him off so he can chase me." Later when he met me when I was riding my bike he said, "You're too old to ride a bike!"
A few steps away from our campsite we found a eight inch diametre tree felled by a beaver. It had one fence board during its fall. Another tree, maybe fourteen inches in diameter, was chewed half way through. It threatened a couple of campsites. No sign of the beavers.
I had a very pleasant paddle upstream along the Chena. The river runs through the city on a zig zag course. The water moves slowly but took some extra effort in a few narrow places. I passed a few drifting fishermen and several rafters coming lazily downstream.
Joan's blackout curtains are worth their weight in gold! It is often sunny when we go to bed. I use a couple of clips to hang a towel over the door and rig a tea towel around one of the skylights. The other windows and skylight are blacked out with the curtains. The bathroom skylight is uncovered so entering that bright, little space at night comes as a shock.
A wild, very vocal, little boy of about 8 was wheeling around the campsite on his bike. Blarney took after him barking and he was delighted. He came over without his bike and said, "Can you let him off so he can chase me." Later when he met me when I was riding my bike he said, "You're too old to ride a bike!"
A few steps away from our campsite we found a eight inch diametre tree felled by a beaver. It had one fence board during its fall. Another tree, maybe fourteen inches in diameter, was chewed half way through. It threatened a couple of campsites. No sign of the beavers.
I had a very pleasant paddle upstream along the Chena. The river runs through the city on a zig zag course. The water moves slowly but took some extra effort in a few narrow places. I passed a few drifting fishermen and several rafters coming lazily downstream.
Joan's blackout curtains are worth their weight in gold! It is often sunny when we go to bed. I use a couple of clips to hang a towel over the door and rig a tea towel around one of the skylights. The other windows and skylight are blacked out with the curtains. The bathroom skylight is uncovered so entering that bright, little space at night comes as a shock.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Tok to Fairbanks
Tok had very little for us. We tried our hand at throwing sourdough pancakes into a bucket to win a breakfast but alas no wins! Who cares, I don't want sourdough pancakes anyway. The RV park had a Johnny Cash emulator, come Karaoke expert, who had made CDs and had them for sale in the shelter out back of the kitchen. He was good and we could hear him all over the park but as the evening wore on he kinda went serious gospel and left Johnny behind. In the morning, with cold that made my nasel hairs brittle, I took a bike ride and ran into a group of juvenile detention kids on a run under guard.
We saw another moose munching greenery during our morning run to Delta Junction. Nothing special, just another moose! There was an excellent Roadhouse Museum in Delta Junction with a fantastic young docent with a passion for history. The building was an original "roadhouse" used during the 1890s. We loved all the adaptions for cold, like the massive drying rack suspended over the huge wood stove. All the customers stripped down to their underwear before they had dinner. Fun!
We found the Riverside RV (also hotel and cabins) in Fairbanks quite easily thanks to the GPS. Bless this device for navigating so reliably in strange cities. It was a huge park with more than a hundred spaces. Ours was a few steps from the Chena River bank. I threw balls for Blarney along the gravel beach. Our first night was part of the Memorial Day weekend, hence very busy.
We saw another moose munching greenery during our morning run to Delta Junction. Nothing special, just another moose! There was an excellent Roadhouse Museum in Delta Junction with a fantastic young docent with a passion for history. The building was an original "roadhouse" used during the 1890s. We loved all the adaptions for cold, like the massive drying rack suspended over the huge wood stove. All the customers stripped down to their underwear before they had dinner. Fun!
We found the Riverside RV (also hotel and cabins) in Fairbanks quite easily thanks to the GPS. Bless this device for navigating so reliably in strange cities. It was a huge park with more than a hundred spaces. Ours was a few steps from the Chena River bank. I threw balls for Blarney along the gravel beach. Our first night was part of the Memorial Day weekend, hence very busy.
Top of the World to TOK
The ferry crossing at Dawson City was an unexpected adventure. A small cat tractor is kept on each bank to add gravel to the landing area as necessary. An unfinished landing made of gravel made us wary. Driving on went smoothly but as we neared the far bank we could see the tractor moving gravel and trying to smooth the new surface. The first car off bogged down and had to twist to clear the ramp. The workers flung aside a couple of the bigger boulders and reset the planks that bridged the drop at the end of the ramp. We moved off very slowly in four wheel drive. The jack at the hitch dug in and scraped for a heart stopping moment but we cleared and rejoiced.
The Top of the World highway was wonderful and very unique. Drop offs on both sides, views for miles in all directions. The border station sits alone on the mountain top. Bob and Helen had to be fingerprinted and iris scanned! American overkill running rampant.
The village of Chicken arrives like an oasis after the long run across the mountains. They sell everything "chicken". Joan bought a ceramic, Helen got a "chicken" T-shirt as did I, and Bob bought a collector pin. I had chicken for lunch! Apparently they called the place CHICKEN because no one at the time knew how to spell ptarmigan!
A spirited discussion about the state of the roads happened when we reached the Tok RV camp. "The road on the Canadian side is really bad!" our RV manager said. "Couldn't be as bad as the American side of the Top of the World," I said. "Well... it's bad," she repeated. Someone else mentioned our next stretch to Fairbanks as being "BAD!" We never did figure that one. It was excellent. "Learn not to believe all you are told," Joan said.
The Top of the World highway was wonderful and very unique. Drop offs on both sides, views for miles in all directions. The border station sits alone on the mountain top. Bob and Helen had to be fingerprinted and iris scanned! American overkill running rampant.
The village of Chicken arrives like an oasis after the long run across the mountains. They sell everything "chicken". Joan bought a ceramic, Helen got a "chicken" T-shirt as did I, and Bob bought a collector pin. I had chicken for lunch! Apparently they called the place CHICKEN because no one at the time knew how to spell ptarmigan!
A spirited discussion about the state of the roads happened when we reached the Tok RV camp. "The road on the Canadian side is really bad!" our RV manager said. "Couldn't be as bad as the American side of the Top of the World," I said. "Well... it's bad," she repeated. Someone else mentioned our next stretch to Fairbanks as being "BAD!" We never did figure that one. It was excellent. "Learn not to believe all you are told," Joan said.
We Love Dawson City
The Gold Rush RV park is in downtown Dawson City so it was easy to walk or bike anywhere. The town is a living testimony to the gold rush days of the late 1800s with its boardwalks, classic Victorian, wooden buildings and unpaved streets. On the first night we walked two blocks to the Diamond Tooth Gertie Saloon for drinks and the show. It was dancing girls and bawdy songs in a loud, working casino and bar. After chatting with Helen, to our great delight, one of the singers announced to the whole congregation, "I've just been chatting with the wildlife."
The federal parks department refurbished an old theatre in the mid 60s. We couldn't pass up a tour done by one of the local ladies. She did a fine job of transporting us back to 1892, the bonanza year for the theatre, before the gold petered out.
We left Blarney in the trailer for three hours while we went on a boat tour along the Yukon River near Dawson City. It was a milestone. From his bed on our table, he was able to watch all the traffic that paraded by the window. He was excited when we got back but no different than when we leave him at home. It means we have a little more freedom to do more dog free activities.
The boat tour with Tom Taylor began at the town dock and sped us across a couple of kilometers of river to Tom's wintering camp for his sled dogs, then to Dog Island in mid river, where we met the sled dogs enjoying their summer hideaway. This was a very authentic experience. The city slickers got to poke around a very different life style. When temperatures are 40 to 50 below, the dogs hunker down in cozy boxes set a few metres apart, where their daily fare is fresh or dried Chum salmon. We also had a tour of a nearby, large, one room log cabin that was warmed by a back up oil furnace and a huge wood stove. All the trappings for cold weather living were there, including some moose hide mits which I got to try on. At the summer camp, we were fed a twist of bannock and a cup of tea inside a netted dining area, before we went into the woods to meet the dogs.
Each dog was staked in its own space under the trees. Great holes had been excavated by the dogs. They climbed in to keep cool and escape the bugs. These were not pets. I approached each one and only two came to me with enthusiasm. Some seemed terrified. Most needed convincing to allow a rub behind the ear.
The charter company, "Fishwheel Charters" is named for a particular kind of fish trap invented by the Chinese about a hundred years ago. A net trap floats in the river current and turns like a paddle wheel, scooping fish as it turns under, then depositing them in a pen held alongside. Most ingenious.
http://www.rapidsresearch.com/html/fishwheels.html
The federal parks department refurbished an old theatre in the mid 60s. We couldn't pass up a tour done by one of the local ladies. She did a fine job of transporting us back to 1892, the bonanza year for the theatre, before the gold petered out.
We left Blarney in the trailer for three hours while we went on a boat tour along the Yukon River near Dawson City. It was a milestone. From his bed on our table, he was able to watch all the traffic that paraded by the window. He was excited when we got back but no different than when we leave him at home. It means we have a little more freedom to do more dog free activities.
The boat tour with Tom Taylor began at the town dock and sped us across a couple of kilometers of river to Tom's wintering camp for his sled dogs, then to Dog Island in mid river, where we met the sled dogs enjoying their summer hideaway. This was a very authentic experience. The city slickers got to poke around a very different life style. When temperatures are 40 to 50 below, the dogs hunker down in cozy boxes set a few metres apart, where their daily fare is fresh or dried Chum salmon. We also had a tour of a nearby, large, one room log cabin that was warmed by a back up oil furnace and a huge wood stove. All the trappings for cold weather living were there, including some moose hide mits which I got to try on. At the summer camp, we were fed a twist of bannock and a cup of tea inside a netted dining area, before we went into the woods to meet the dogs.
Each dog was staked in its own space under the trees. Great holes had been excavated by the dogs. They climbed in to keep cool and escape the bugs. These were not pets. I approached each one and only two came to me with enthusiasm. Some seemed terrified. Most needed convincing to allow a rub behind the ear.
The charter company, "Fishwheel Charters" is named for a particular kind of fish trap invented by the Chinese about a hundred years ago. A net trap floats in the river current and turns like a paddle wheel, scooping fish as it turns under, then depositing them in a pen held alongside. Most ingenious.
http://www.rapidsresearch.com/html/fishwheels.html
Friday, June 3, 2011
Watson Lake to Dawson City: Big, Big Country
Watson Lake
After a short drive of 150 km we arrived at the Downtown RV park in Watson Lake about 11 am.
The park was a huge, bare patch of gravel and dirt with very narrow spaces. The awnings of one RV was touching the next. We took sites with a third empty site between. A tiny patch of grass at the back was the only green around. By late afternoon at least twenty giant rigs had moved in, one huge fifth wheel from Idaho was being towed by a semi.
The washroom had piped in Country Western. Dolly serenaded me one evening while I sat.
We donated to the Diabetic Association to receive a free barbecue lunch of beef on skeewers. The lunch was part of a 10 km run that finished at the local grocery store.
I biked all around Watson Lake looking for good things but found very little. It's a rugged, rough community with many pockets of discarded machinery, numerous prefab buildings, and lots of dirt parking lots. The frontage on Wye Lake has a fine park and wooden walkway through a bog.
Bob's told us his mother had often said, "A town needs three special things to keep the tourists coming." We debated the three for Watson Lake and came up with the following. It has a captive audience that passes by on the Alaska Highway. The Northern Lights show is probably attended by most tourists. The forest of signs is unique although "yah gotta wonder where people find the time." We enjoyed the Interpretive Centre in spite of all of us coughing and blowing.
Teslin Lake
After two nights and a full day here we've thoroughly explored the many delights this little community has to offer. The Yukon Motel and Restaurant, RV site sits on a slope overlooking the narrow, but very long lake. Our views stretch twenty miles or more. Yesterday I kayaked a few clicks west and explored the coastline. Blarney has been on several circle tours around the neighbourhood tethered to my bike.
The Tlingit Heritage Centre is a huge log structure styled after a traditional shelter. It houses various Native crafts, some dioramas of traditional life and a large open area similar to a coastal long house. A native lady was busy planting flowers in the outside planters in preparation for the official opening June 1. "The band around here still depends on their traditional food. We always get at least one moose. We trap beaver part of the year. We couldn't get by without hunting."
Down the road we found the George Johnson Museum, named after the native who first brought a car into the area. The museum has the original 1929 touring car on display. It served as a taxi as well as serving trap lines. George's photography left the early community well documented.
Next door to the RV park, in a building that also houses the post office, there is a wildlife museum containing incredible dioramas of the local animals. Pictures follow. The taxidermist works in Carcross. We look forward to seeing more of his work. The post office lady was loving her job and sold us some girl guide cookies.
Carmacks: Coal Mine RV Park
Build a high, sturdy fence a few yards from the highway, string some wire to support some power outlets and call the parking spaces behind it an RV park. We arrived at Coal Mine RV in Carmacks! Not much but it will have to do. The office complex is a local take out, "hang out". When we went in to register it was surrounded by local natives milling about, feasting on chips and ice cream. There's a "lounge" with a sign reading "Come in out of the rain" This point along the Yukon River is often an overnight stop for canoe trippers paddling between Whitehorse and Dawson City.
There was no water hookup and we soon discovered we were out of water! Yikes! Who would have thought. One of the local workers was working with a very long garden hose and agreed to help us out. A sigh of relief knowing we'll be able to continue to flush our potty. Joan has heard that some areas have a "boil water advisory" so we're cautious. The worker assures us their water is good and was tested at the beginning of the season.
We spent the evening enjoying happy hour and a barbecue of perfect rib steak. We've heard ominous reports that the warm weather is about to depart. One snippet on the radio said somewhere in the neighbourhood was going down to minus 1! Oops!
Dawson City
There was cold drizzle when we began our 300k journey along the Klondike Highway #2 to Dawson City. Our drive was filled with longish periods of boredom interrupted by moments of terror and short bursts of stimulation. The terror came from numerous small, orange cones dropped by the highway workers to mark rough patches in the road. At first they amounted to nothing and I began to consider them a "cry wolf", then we hit one doing about 80, that qualified as a volcanic fissure filled with quicksand. First the truck did the mighty buck, then the trailer tried to fling itself into a headstand. The microwave lifted off its stand and landed on the floor with a broken tray inside. After that we approached the markers with more respect although none ever surpassed the first for violence.
A freak in the air flow lifted the hatch canvas right off my kayak and we had to turn back a couple of clicks to find it. It was the occasion to meet a lone motor cyclist that had noticed it on the road.
Lunch was soup and buffalo burgers at a log built lodge with a hand written sign out front whose red letters read, "Two nice guys, two nice ladies and two friendly dogs." Bob found souvenir pins. The families running the place were Swiss. The food was great and the lodge and grounds full of old, funky stuff.
We saw three foxes crossing the road near settlement areas. Very brash, bushy and busy.
Our most exciting sights of the day was a cow moose with two calves. They stayed put long enough for a good photo but moved off when we tried to back the van to get closer. We're all thrilled to have seen the moose!
After a short drive of 150 km we arrived at the Downtown RV park in Watson Lake about 11 am.
The park was a huge, bare patch of gravel and dirt with very narrow spaces. The awnings of one RV was touching the next. We took sites with a third empty site between. A tiny patch of grass at the back was the only green around. By late afternoon at least twenty giant rigs had moved in, one huge fifth wheel from Idaho was being towed by a semi.
The washroom had piped in Country Western. Dolly serenaded me one evening while I sat.
We donated to the Diabetic Association to receive a free barbecue lunch of beef on skeewers. The lunch was part of a 10 km run that finished at the local grocery store.
I biked all around Watson Lake looking for good things but found very little. It's a rugged, rough community with many pockets of discarded machinery, numerous prefab buildings, and lots of dirt parking lots. The frontage on Wye Lake has a fine park and wooden walkway through a bog.
Bob's told us his mother had often said, "A town needs three special things to keep the tourists coming." We debated the three for Watson Lake and came up with the following. It has a captive audience that passes by on the Alaska Highway. The Northern Lights show is probably attended by most tourists. The forest of signs is unique although "yah gotta wonder where people find the time." We enjoyed the Interpretive Centre in spite of all of us coughing and blowing.
Teslin Lake
After two nights and a full day here we've thoroughly explored the many delights this little community has to offer. The Yukon Motel and Restaurant, RV site sits on a slope overlooking the narrow, but very long lake. Our views stretch twenty miles or more. Yesterday I kayaked a few clicks west and explored the coastline. Blarney has been on several circle tours around the neighbourhood tethered to my bike.
The Tlingit Heritage Centre is a huge log structure styled after a traditional shelter. It houses various Native crafts, some dioramas of traditional life and a large open area similar to a coastal long house. A native lady was busy planting flowers in the outside planters in preparation for the official opening June 1. "The band around here still depends on their traditional food. We always get at least one moose. We trap beaver part of the year. We couldn't get by without hunting."
Down the road we found the George Johnson Museum, named after the native who first brought a car into the area. The museum has the original 1929 touring car on display. It served as a taxi as well as serving trap lines. George's photography left the early community well documented.
Next door to the RV park, in a building that also houses the post office, there is a wildlife museum containing incredible dioramas of the local animals. Pictures follow. The taxidermist works in Carcross. We look forward to seeing more of his work. The post office lady was loving her job and sold us some girl guide cookies.
Carmacks: Coal Mine RV Park
Build a high, sturdy fence a few yards from the highway, string some wire to support some power outlets and call the parking spaces behind it an RV park. We arrived at Coal Mine RV in Carmacks! Not much but it will have to do. The office complex is a local take out, "hang out". When we went in to register it was surrounded by local natives milling about, feasting on chips and ice cream. There's a "lounge" with a sign reading "Come in out of the rain" This point along the Yukon River is often an overnight stop for canoe trippers paddling between Whitehorse and Dawson City.
There was no water hookup and we soon discovered we were out of water! Yikes! Who would have thought. One of the local workers was working with a very long garden hose and agreed to help us out. A sigh of relief knowing we'll be able to continue to flush our potty. Joan has heard that some areas have a "boil water advisory" so we're cautious. The worker assures us their water is good and was tested at the beginning of the season.
We spent the evening enjoying happy hour and a barbecue of perfect rib steak. We've heard ominous reports that the warm weather is about to depart. One snippet on the radio said somewhere in the neighbourhood was going down to minus 1! Oops!
Dawson City
There was cold drizzle when we began our 300k journey along the Klondike Highway #2 to Dawson City. Our drive was filled with longish periods of boredom interrupted by moments of terror and short bursts of stimulation. The terror came from numerous small, orange cones dropped by the highway workers to mark rough patches in the road. At first they amounted to nothing and I began to consider them a "cry wolf", then we hit one doing about 80, that qualified as a volcanic fissure filled with quicksand. First the truck did the mighty buck, then the trailer tried to fling itself into a headstand. The microwave lifted off its stand and landed on the floor with a broken tray inside. After that we approached the markers with more respect although none ever surpassed the first for violence.
A freak in the air flow lifted the hatch canvas right off my kayak and we had to turn back a couple of clicks to find it. It was the occasion to meet a lone motor cyclist that had noticed it on the road.
Lunch was soup and buffalo burgers at a log built lodge with a hand written sign out front whose red letters read, "Two nice guys, two nice ladies and two friendly dogs." Bob found souvenir pins. The families running the place were Swiss. The food was great and the lodge and grounds full of old, funky stuff.
We saw three foxes crossing the road near settlement areas. Very brash, bushy and busy.
Our most exciting sights of the day was a cow moose with two calves. They stayed put long enough for a good photo but moved off when we tried to back the van to get closer. We're all thrilled to have seen the moose!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Bring on The FORTS! Day 6, 7, 8
Ft St John
We left the site late this morning, 10 instead of our usual 9, because we planned to join a 10:30 tour at the WAC Bennett dam. Each of us had warmed to the idea of visiting the dam for different reasons. Joan and I revived old memories of the early days of construction and the hype surrounding Bennett. Bob and Helen were intrigued by the sheer magnitude of the project. Could one structure really provide 30% of all BC power?
We weren't disappointed. A sweet, young, tour guide, fresh from learning her patter, and a bus driver on his first trip who misjudged and had to reverse to make the turn out of the parking lot, escorted our lonely party of four down the long hill and through a barrier into the power centre of the dam. Size was staggering! I was reminded of the Boeing factory. The cavern holding the generators is as long as the height of the Eiffel tower.
Joan had a coughing spasm on the bus which had both guides worried. The suffering extend to everyone when the coughing takes over our bodies. A casual observer thinks we're dealing with something far worse than a cold, probably more like poison gas or choking on a bone. Bob has begun to notice a sore throat.
The Rotary RV Park, in downtown Fort St. John, suited our purposes just fine. Dinner was next door at the pub. A special monument commerating the lives of some soldiers who died constructing the highway, was located nearby on a lake side walking path. Blarney had a huge field of grass to call his own. I was beginning to feel close to normal but not so for Bob and Joan.
Ft Nelson
Today's drive between the two "Forts" was flat, straight and easy. We whisked along at a brisk 95 mph all day. Our picnic lunch stop was a huge, dirt and gravel parking area around a tiny gas stop. The truck fillup, at $1.47 a litre, was almost $90. Shock! The Toyota V6, with Barbie in tow, is burning slightly more gas than the V8 camper.
Fort Nelson has a renowned museum specializing in transportation. Walking through the glut of items, it soon becomes evident this is more a collection than a display. Everywhere you look there is something old and often more than one. Radios, bottles, dishes and on and on. I liked the hand made spruce bark canoe.
Out in the yard we soon found the collection of old autos and the man who makes them all run. All of the more than 15 vehicles still operates thanks to the geezer with the shock of white hair and bushy beard. He keeps an old "pump" engine near the front of the shed to fire up for the tourists. He used an eyedropper to fill a tube with a tiny quantity of gas and squeezed a few drops into one of the valve springs. Two jerky turns on the flywheel and the machine came to life, sputtering and putting like it had never stopped. Very impressive! A coke can jumped up a shaft with every rotation just to add more colour and noise to the wonder of it. "Where did you find this thing?" I asked, eyes wide. "Out in the back of my Dad's shed," he replied. This answer from a white-haired Jesus figure made me giggle inside. This would have been a shed to see!
Blarney and I found a squirrel near the trailer site. Game on for the rest of the stay. The single men's toilet hadn't been fastened to the floor and had a terrifying tendency to tip when I didn't want it to. The special in the restaurant was a slice of beef about two centimetres thick and the area of a small country. The bar stools were all western saddles with solid horns to help you hold your seat during the NHL games. The temperature was 27º outside and hot enough to melt bronze in the laundry.
Coal River
Very scenic drive over hills, through valleys surrounded by snow capped peaks. Stopped at Summit Lake which was glistening ice under 24º sun and watched three Stone sheep scramble on ledges where no man could possibly go.
Our lunch stop at Muncho Lake was the best! The temperature soared to the high twenties. We took the double kayak down and paddled along the shore while Blarnie chased us along the beach. The reflections of the mountains across the icy, blue-green water were bringing oohs and ahhs at every turn. Quite gorgeous!
Mid afternoon we stopped for gas at a lodge called Toad River which advertised a ceiling lined with several thousand ball caps. "We do take them down once in awhile," the lady said. "They were started two owners back." They also had a fantastic beaver dam and lodge in the stream nearby.
It was a great day for watching wildlife. We stopped for two black bears and a couple of bison. The bison were "loners", apparently big bulls biding their time. They had shaggy patches of long hair yet to be rubbed off. We watched as another bison rubbed his huge head against a tree while the tree trembled.
The bison burgers drew us in to the Coal River RV. We were the only clients. The burgers were delicious and the lady who made them quite delightful. Joan bought "stuff", including a sweat shirt and two stuffies for the grandkids. We took Blarney on a long walk down the air strip to the river. It's a land of many buffalo chips.
We left the site late this morning, 10 instead of our usual 9, because we planned to join a 10:30 tour at the WAC Bennett dam. Each of us had warmed to the idea of visiting the dam for different reasons. Joan and I revived old memories of the early days of construction and the hype surrounding Bennett. Bob and Helen were intrigued by the sheer magnitude of the project. Could one structure really provide 30% of all BC power?
We weren't disappointed. A sweet, young, tour guide, fresh from learning her patter, and a bus driver on his first trip who misjudged and had to reverse to make the turn out of the parking lot, escorted our lonely party of four down the long hill and through a barrier into the power centre of the dam. Size was staggering! I was reminded of the Boeing factory. The cavern holding the generators is as long as the height of the Eiffel tower.
Joan had a coughing spasm on the bus which had both guides worried. The suffering extend to everyone when the coughing takes over our bodies. A casual observer thinks we're dealing with something far worse than a cold, probably more like poison gas or choking on a bone. Bob has begun to notice a sore throat.
The Rotary RV Park, in downtown Fort St. John, suited our purposes just fine. Dinner was next door at the pub. A special monument commerating the lives of some soldiers who died constructing the highway, was located nearby on a lake side walking path. Blarney had a huge field of grass to call his own. I was beginning to feel close to normal but not so for Bob and Joan.
Ft Nelson
Today's drive between the two "Forts" was flat, straight and easy. We whisked along at a brisk 95 mph all day. Our picnic lunch stop was a huge, dirt and gravel parking area around a tiny gas stop. The truck fillup, at $1.47 a litre, was almost $90. Shock! The Toyota V6, with Barbie in tow, is burning slightly more gas than the V8 camper.
Fort Nelson has a renowned museum specializing in transportation. Walking through the glut of items, it soon becomes evident this is more a collection than a display. Everywhere you look there is something old and often more than one. Radios, bottles, dishes and on and on. I liked the hand made spruce bark canoe.
Out in the yard we soon found the collection of old autos and the man who makes them all run. All of the more than 15 vehicles still operates thanks to the geezer with the shock of white hair and bushy beard. He keeps an old "pump" engine near the front of the shed to fire up for the tourists. He used an eyedropper to fill a tube with a tiny quantity of gas and squeezed a few drops into one of the valve springs. Two jerky turns on the flywheel and the machine came to life, sputtering and putting like it had never stopped. Very impressive! A coke can jumped up a shaft with every rotation just to add more colour and noise to the wonder of it. "Where did you find this thing?" I asked, eyes wide. "Out in the back of my Dad's shed," he replied. This answer from a white-haired Jesus figure made me giggle inside. This would have been a shed to see!
Blarney and I found a squirrel near the trailer site. Game on for the rest of the stay. The single men's toilet hadn't been fastened to the floor and had a terrifying tendency to tip when I didn't want it to. The special in the restaurant was a slice of beef about two centimetres thick and the area of a small country. The bar stools were all western saddles with solid horns to help you hold your seat during the NHL games. The temperature was 27º outside and hot enough to melt bronze in the laundry.
Coal River
Very scenic drive over hills, through valleys surrounded by snow capped peaks. Stopped at Summit Lake which was glistening ice under 24º sun and watched three Stone sheep scramble on ledges where no man could possibly go.
Our lunch stop at Muncho Lake was the best! The temperature soared to the high twenties. We took the double kayak down and paddled along the shore while Blarnie chased us along the beach. The reflections of the mountains across the icy, blue-green water were bringing oohs and ahhs at every turn. Quite gorgeous!
Mid afternoon we stopped for gas at a lodge called Toad River which advertised a ceiling lined with several thousand ball caps. "We do take them down once in awhile," the lady said. "They were started two owners back." They also had a fantastic beaver dam and lodge in the stream nearby.
It was a great day for watching wildlife. We stopped for two black bears and a couple of bison. The bison were "loners", apparently big bulls biding their time. They had shaggy patches of long hair yet to be rubbed off. We watched as another bison rubbed his huge head against a tree while the tree trembled.
The bison burgers drew us in to the Coal River RV. We were the only clients. The burgers were delicious and the lady who made them quite delightful. Joan bought "stuff", including a sweat shirt and two stuffies for the grandkids. We took Blarney on a long walk down the air strip to the river. It's a land of many buffalo chips.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Big, Big BC: Nights 1 through 5
Night 1 Chilliwack
Left the house about 10 to catch the 11, with a reservation. We walked Blarney around a half empty car deck. Two young workers were throwing a football in the empty, cavernous space.
Both of us are "hacking" at intervals. I had a spell while we waited in the food line. Wetted my jersey from coughing into my elbow. Felt sorry for the folks near us.
We have arranged a rendezvous with Bob and Helen at the Cottonwood RV south of Chilliwack. They arrived 7ish, late, after a frustrating wait for there Pleasure Way van. Joan gave them a great dinner and they took off shopping.
Blarney is happy as a clam. "He just likes having the complete and undivided attention of his mom and dad," said Joan.
Night 2 Cache Creek
Long time since I've been in Cache Creek, probably 20 years. There's still not much! We found a Safeway and other shops along the highway strip so typical of BC small towns. Pretty near impossible to shop without a car.
The Brookside RV park was about 2 K out of town, along a small, very swollen creek. We found a nice size field bordering the park where Blarney could run after the ball.
Gaye and Terry visited during the afternoon and we had a few minutes chatting in the sun before the rain hit. Joan and I tried to take naps but as usual the cough won. It seems only moments after we go horizontal that the persistent tickle sets us coughing.
Bob and Helen took us to dinner at a local restaurant. The menu included Liver and Onions and Salisbury Steak, so old fashioned, we loved it.
Joan and I kept the trailer vibrating through the night with our coughing, blowing and getting up and down for the toilet. Neither of us was able to get a proper night's rest. It's a vicious bug with no forgiveness.
Night 3 Quesnel
Very rough morning. Both of us survived on mimimal sleep and much coughing. Drove over a fireplace and dragged it a few yards. Found out in Quesnel that I'd left the base for the trailer jack behind. Also turned the wrong way leaving the campsite.
Had a very fussy, but helpful fellow look afer us at the Airport Motel and RV park in North Quesnel. We were the only customers except for one fellow who arrived with an ancient RV, probably 70s, towing a jeep. He left early morning in the RV and not the jeep. I went back south to CHEMO, an RV supply to find a new jack. Bought one for 20 but the diameter is wrong so will continue to use blocks.
Some confusion over which way to turn this morning. Are we in North or South Quesnel? It's big enough to make navigating a challenge.
The Quesnel Museum, attached to the information centre, was a small jewel. Their display of local native works was stunning. I was shocked to find a old-fashioned dentist office including the drill I remember so well from my childhood. We missed the 1000 year old prophylactic but still talk about it.
Night 4 Mackenzie
Arrived about 4 and went straight to the "mall" and drug store to get prescription. Short tour with pictures of the high school and Mary's old apartment.
Spent most of the morning getting in to see a doctor, young girl from South Africa. After a one hour plus wait, came away with prescription for antibiotics and cortizone nose spray. I'm looking forward to having a dry nose after two weeks.
The campground sits adjacent to the municipal yard, gravel, dirt and rough grass. The washrooms are spacious and clean so no complaints. No one around so Blarney has the run of the place. A large space has been set aside for stacking snow and large, glacial like hunks still remain unmelted.
A howling wind kept us inside most of the time. We ate in Bob and Helen's van. The trailer shook a few times when gusts hit us broadside.
Night 5 Hudson's Hope
Began the morning with a tour of the local beach, actually called First Beach, created when the Bennett dam created a huge lake. Blarney had a ball game on the sand. The wind stirred spray and whitecaps. We checked the water temperature because we'd been told the ice had just gone off a few days earlier. A few minutes later, on the drive north, we passed lakes still solid with ice! Should be fun in Alaska!
Lunch in Chetwyn was an event. The lady at the Visitor Centre told Joan, "They use real cooked turkey at the cafe in the Rec Centre," so we checked it out. It was the first Rec Centre Bob and Helen had visited so turned out very positive. Homey, local ladies running the restuarant, very impressive building. Lasagna was excellent, turkey sandwich fine, fish good but French fries lacking.
Joan and I are still the world's best hackers. We do it everywhere. YIkes! Will it ever end?
Left the house about 10 to catch the 11, with a reservation. We walked Blarney around a half empty car deck. Two young workers were throwing a football in the empty, cavernous space.
Both of us are "hacking" at intervals. I had a spell while we waited in the food line. Wetted my jersey from coughing into my elbow. Felt sorry for the folks near us.
We have arranged a rendezvous with Bob and Helen at the Cottonwood RV south of Chilliwack. They arrived 7ish, late, after a frustrating wait for there Pleasure Way van. Joan gave them a great dinner and they took off shopping.
Blarney is happy as a clam. "He just likes having the complete and undivided attention of his mom and dad," said Joan.
Night 2 Cache Creek
Long time since I've been in Cache Creek, probably 20 years. There's still not much! We found a Safeway and other shops along the highway strip so typical of BC small towns. Pretty near impossible to shop without a car.
The Brookside RV park was about 2 K out of town, along a small, very swollen creek. We found a nice size field bordering the park where Blarney could run after the ball.
Gaye and Terry visited during the afternoon and we had a few minutes chatting in the sun before the rain hit. Joan and I tried to take naps but as usual the cough won. It seems only moments after we go horizontal that the persistent tickle sets us coughing.
Bob and Helen took us to dinner at a local restaurant. The menu included Liver and Onions and Salisbury Steak, so old fashioned, we loved it.
Joan and I kept the trailer vibrating through the night with our coughing, blowing and getting up and down for the toilet. Neither of us was able to get a proper night's rest. It's a vicious bug with no forgiveness.
Night 3 Quesnel
Very rough morning. Both of us survived on mimimal sleep and much coughing. Drove over a fireplace and dragged it a few yards. Found out in Quesnel that I'd left the base for the trailer jack behind. Also turned the wrong way leaving the campsite.
Had a very fussy, but helpful fellow look afer us at the Airport Motel and RV park in North Quesnel. We were the only customers except for one fellow who arrived with an ancient RV, probably 70s, towing a jeep. He left early morning in the RV and not the jeep. I went back south to CHEMO, an RV supply to find a new jack. Bought one for 20 but the diameter is wrong so will continue to use blocks.
Some confusion over which way to turn this morning. Are we in North or South Quesnel? It's big enough to make navigating a challenge.
The Quesnel Museum, attached to the information centre, was a small jewel. Their display of local native works was stunning. I was shocked to find a old-fashioned dentist office including the drill I remember so well from my childhood. We missed the 1000 year old prophylactic but still talk about it.
Night 4 Mackenzie
Arrived about 4 and went straight to the "mall" and drug store to get prescription. Short tour with pictures of the high school and Mary's old apartment.
Spent most of the morning getting in to see a doctor, young girl from South Africa. After a one hour plus wait, came away with prescription for antibiotics and cortizone nose spray. I'm looking forward to having a dry nose after two weeks.
The campground sits adjacent to the municipal yard, gravel, dirt and rough grass. The washrooms are spacious and clean so no complaints. No one around so Blarney has the run of the place. A large space has been set aside for stacking snow and large, glacial like hunks still remain unmelted.
A howling wind kept us inside most of the time. We ate in Bob and Helen's van. The trailer shook a few times when gusts hit us broadside.
Night 5 Hudson's Hope
Began the morning with a tour of the local beach, actually called First Beach, created when the Bennett dam created a huge lake. Blarney had a ball game on the sand. The wind stirred spray and whitecaps. We checked the water temperature because we'd been told the ice had just gone off a few days earlier. A few minutes later, on the drive north, we passed lakes still solid with ice! Should be fun in Alaska!
Lunch in Chetwyn was an event. The lady at the Visitor Centre told Joan, "They use real cooked turkey at the cafe in the Rec Centre," so we checked it out. It was the first Rec Centre Bob and Helen had visited so turned out very positive. Homey, local ladies running the restuarant, very impressive building. Lasagna was excellent, turkey sandwich fine, fish good but French fries lacking.
Joan and I are still the world's best hackers. We do it everywhere. YIkes! Will it ever end?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Chilliwack in Rain
Left the house about 10 to catch the 11, with a reservation. We walked Blarney on a half empty car deck. Two young workers were throwing a football around in the cavernous space.
Both of us are "hacking" at intervals. I had a spell while we waited in the food line. Wetted my jersey from coughing into my elbow. Felt sorry for the folks near us.
We have arranged a rendezvous with Bob and Helen at the Cottonwood RV south of Chilliwack. The arrived 7ish, late, after a frustrating wait for there Pleasure Way van. Joan gave them a great dinner and they took off shopping.
Blarney is happy as a clam. "He just likes having the complete and undivided attention of his mom and dad," said Joan.
Both of us are "hacking" at intervals. I had a spell while we waited in the food line. Wetted my jersey from coughing into my elbow. Felt sorry for the folks near us.
We have arranged a rendezvous with Bob and Helen at the Cottonwood RV south of Chilliwack. The arrived 7ish, late, after a frustrating wait for there Pleasure Way van. Joan gave them a great dinner and they took off shopping.
Blarney is happy as a clam. "He just likes having the complete and undivided attention of his mom and dad," said Joan.
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