kayaking – Page 9 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

It’s not over yet

I woke up this morning missing Alaska and the Highway, the open road with no cars, the memories of the road to Valdez, the road to Haines, the utter silence of Joe Lake on the Denali Highway only a memory in my mind. We are parked in the Wal-Mart in Cranbrook, British Columbia, just 50 miles north of the border and this morning will be traveling to visit our friends in Bonners Ferry and spending the night there.

I have the past three days still to talk about and remember, thank goodness I have the photos to remind me.

I still have the camera to take the photos which is amazing, but that also is part of the story still to write. These last few days have all run together, filled with the magnificence of the Rockies, Alberta and the beautiful Canadian National Parks. There are still gorgeous photos of beautiful mountains and lakes to come, the rest of the story is still to be written. The stats of the trip to soon be calculated, more than 7,000 miles so far and more to come.

Parking at the Wal-Mart here has been delightful. It was a long day yesterday trying to find a place to be on a hot August Saturday night in an area that is focused on golf and resorts. Wal-Mart is filled with RV’s, but still not as crowded as the slide to slide packing we saw in the few RV parks we passed yesterday afternoon. We have free Wi-Fi right here in the rig from the McDonalds down the street. Enough for now, just know that there is more to come. We still have several hundred miles to go before this trip is finished.

I had no clue that the trip would be as amazing as it turned out to be. I had no clue Alaska and the Yukon would capture me the way it did. I had no clue. Enough for now. There will be plenty of time to write about the past few days on the long road home.

Day 37 August 11 Hinton to Jasper NP and the worst moment of the trip

We woke this morning to misty drifts of fog slipping in and out of the hills around us and by the time we dropped down to the town of Hinton for fuel, the fog was so thick it was hard to find the gas station. Even early in the morning, there was considerable traffic on Canada 16, where Hinton is the gateway town between Edmonton and Jasper National Park.

We were in no hurry, though, and as we climbed into the massive Rockies, the fog lifted, exposing a higher level of cloud cover above us. When you enter the National Park, if you don’t plan to stop, they will wave you through without a fee. We told the agent that we wanted to kayak a bit and then find a place to camp somewhere between Jasper and Banff and she smiled and charged us a little over 16 bucks for a pass to both Jasper and Banff that was good until 4PM tomorrow. Perfect.

With a park map in hand, we decided that Maligne Lake looked like a perfect spot for kayaking and turned east, crossing the Athabasca River to travel beyond Maligne Canyon to the lake. About half way there we found a great empty turnout and parked the MoHo, thinking we could save a bit on gas if we just drove the baby car. I am so glad we did that, because the parking situation at the lake was tight to say the least, and while there was plenty of room when we arrived at 10am or so, by the time we got off the lake it was an entirely different story!

We launched the boats in cloudy skies, but after a bit of time on the lake the sun peeked through, warming us and making everything in view just sparkle. Maligne Lake is famous for the island at the far end of the lake, Spirit Island. It was a photo of this little island that made me want to put my boat on this lovely water. The only problem is that once again, we are in a very popular national park, and concession boat rides to Spirit Island are the only way most folks get to see it.

The cruise boat traffic was busy, with a boat leaving about every ten minutes and another one returning. The lake was beautifully calm, so the big swells from the wakes from these boats were dramatic, and we just rode along with them. The lake is more than 7 miles long and we really didn’t have the time for a 14 mile paddle, so we traveled along the west side of the lake about half way before crossing over to the eastern shore for a break. The water was perfectly clear, and Abby loved her swim while we walked a bit along the shore.

It was a beautiful day, a beautiful moment, a beautiful time on a beautiful lake. Ahhhh.

When we arrived back at the launch dock, we were surprised to find it crammed with people. They were all hanging around in the middle of the boat launch taking photos, standing around everywhere, and there were so many cars in the parking lot that we knew there was no way we would manage to get the car down to the launch. Instead, we picked up our 34 pound wonder boats and carried them up to the lot for loading. The rental RV’s were bumper to bumper trying to find parking, and one lucky person in a sedan had managed to park in the ditch and was stuck. We just loaded up the boats and got out of there as quickly as possible. By this time the sun was out in full force and it was actually hot.

We were happy to see the motorhome peacefully waiting in the one turnout that wasn’t occupied, hooked up the baby car and made some lunch before heading back out the Maligne Lake Road to the highway. On the way we saw several wildlife traffic jams, but one of them was actually worth stopping for, and I joined the crowds taking photos of a very unconcerned bull elk. Mo said she had never seen a rack as big as this guy, and I don’t think I have ever been that close to a bull elk ever. Probably not very smart. Back in my soil survey days, we had stories about encounters with bull elk, but usually that was in the fall during the rut. This guy was pretty darn tame, I guess.

We ambled on through the park, enjoying the views and the animals and decided that stopping in Jasper for cute little shops wasn’t worth the effort to park. Instead we drove slowly with all the other tourists, and I took photos out of the window cafes, and stores, and tourists. Jasper town was really quite nice, with many old homes converted to B&B’s, and lovely gardens. I could enjoy staying in Jasper for a week or so and taking more time for hiking the many trails and kayaking the many lakes. The maps looked so enticing.

Instead, we were getting into the home mode, and after six weeks traveling magnificent Alaska and the Yukon, this lovely little park full of tourists was a bit less exciting than it might be if it were our planned destination. We continued on south along the Athabasca River, planning to stop at any of the campgrounds along the Icefield Parkway that had room for us without a reservation.

Not far south we saw a campground down along the river, missed the turn somehow, and pulled into another turnout to retrace our steps. Mo said, “Wow, that is a great mountain”. I stepped out of the rig with the camera in hand to get a good photo, and Mo said one minute I was there and the next minute I was nowhere. With my eyes gawking at the mountain and my camera pointed up, I stepped into a deep hole in the asphalt and went down with a very hard crash. All I saw was broken glass and plastic strewn out in front of me, and I didn’t give a whit about whatever was going on with my body. There were half a dozen people in the parking lot who must have thought I was nuts, screaming, “It’s thousands of dollars, it’s thousands of dollars!!”

I was a bit skinned and bruised but that had nothing to do with the sick feeling in my stomach. Deanna’s lens. The super fast, super heavy, (later I found out it is $1539 bucks of super) lens took the full brunt of the fall. Not to mention my brand new camera. The lens filter was splintered and the metal edge of the lens was bent, the mechanism was stiff and acting funny. Duh. I clicked. Nothing. Clicked again. Nothing. I am so sick I can’t even cry. I put one of my other lenses on to see if it was just the lens. Click. Nothing. Then I look a little bit closer and see that the on/off button has shifted in the fall. Turn the camera on. Click. IMAGE! I put Deanna’s lens back on. Click. IMAGE!!

I think it must have been the heft and solidity of that fancy NIKON lens that took the hit and saved the camera. I tried several shots with Deanna’s lens, and except for a bit of stiffness in the zoom, it seems to still have perfect auto-focus and the images look fine. Incredible. Of course, I have to replace her lens, and insurance is $1000 deductible, so it’s coming out of my pocket. The good part about all this is that I never would spend 1500 bucks to get that lens for myself, and now I have one. Maybe a bit bent, and maybe not perfect, but still working and now mine.

By the time we backtracked and settled in to Mt Kerkeslin campground, $12 for a dry site, I wanted nothing more to do than sit and drink a beer on the sofa. My body hurt, my mind hurt, and I was a wreck, even with the reasonably good outcome. I felt like any step I took was going to put me on the ground somehow, it was definitely disconcerting! Mo took Abby for a walk, and we canned any plans to hike Athabasca Falls. I sat there alone on the sofa saying a ton of “thank yous” to the powers that be for letting the worst moment of our trip not be any worse than it was.

Miles driven today (in the MoHo): 73

The rest of the photos are linked here

Day 17 July 22 The Denali Highway

Once again, we are camped within feet of a lake, but this time we are not just dry camping in a primitive campground, we are actually boondocking. We are just a bit more than 8 miles east of the Parks Highway and Cantwell on the Old Denali Highway 8. This road continues east to Highway 4, the road to Valdez, and then back north to Delta Junction where we were a few days ago. I am terribly behind in writing, and it seems the only way to get going again is for me to start with the here and now, this moment.

Mo is cutting some dead wood nearby along the lakeshore and feeding our campfire while we watch the evening sky shift and change across the lake. It smells wonderful. A very occasional car or truck passes our site, but we aren’t really visible until they are almost right on top of us, so that works just fine. This morning when we drove this highway, for a very long time we were the only ones on the road.

We began our day in the Riley Creek Campground at Denali National Park, with a 5:30 am drive west on the park road to Savage Creek, the extent where private vehicles are allowed in the park. Except for the green and white shuttle buses, already taking people into the deeper recesses of the wilderness, we were the only ones on the road. We thought perhaps an early morning drive might yield some critter viewing, but it wasn’t to be. Again, we saw squirrels and snow shoe hares and nothing else. Unlike yesterday, this morning the Mountain was clouded over and if we hadn’t seen it last night we would have had no idea where it was on the horizon.

The tundra was beautiful at dawn, though, with pale shades of misty green on the high hills to timberline glowing in the morning light. Once at the parking lot at the Savage Creek trail, we were delighted to be the only ones there. Rules said that we couldn’t leave Abby untended in the car, and of course she couldn’t go on the trail, so Mo sat with her while I took off on a beautiful, silent walk along the river. The only sound breaking the silence was the river, the sounds of birds calling, and an occasional rumble as a shuttle bus crossed the bridge to the security point. When Mo was here so many years ago, she was able to drive to a campground farther into the park, but even back then the only animals she saw were a small herd of caribou in the distance. There are no guarantees that you will see any wildlife at all, even on the bus that travels the entire 85 miles to Wonder Lake.

I have a friend, Jeanne, who lived in Alaska for several years and told me we should try the Denali Highway for a true wilderness experience without the crowds of Denali. So after our morning drive, we packed up the MoHo and headed south on the Parks Highway 3 toward Cantwell and the Denali Highway junction. Mo checked in with the owner of the Tesoro station at the junction and he said it would be fine to leave the MoHo there while we took the Tracker on the gravel road leading east through the wilderness.

I owe it to Jeanne, because we might not have taken the time and trouble to travel this long gravel road. Even though unpaved, the road was in much better shape than the Top of the World Highway, and we could have driven the MoHo all the way to the eastern junction with Highway 4 without any problems, I am sure. We spent many hours on the trip, mostly because I had to keep stopping to take pictures and walk out over the hills for wider vistas. Along the way, we saw many places that would be perfect for boondocking, but this one at mile 8 was our choice because of the lake and the proximity back to our route on Highway 3 south to Talkeetna tomorrow.

We drove as far east as the Susitna River crossing where the landscape changed dramatically. This is about the half way mark of the road, and also marks a great landscape shift where the Sustina River flows south to Cook Inlet, and the Nenana River we had been following for many miles flows north into the Tanana River, the Yukon, and eventually the Bering Sea.

The reward for our many miles of gravel road highway was the expansive wild landscape of the Nenana River valley flowing at the southern base of the Alaska Range. During the morning, on our route east, the skies were clear enough that we could see Mt Deborah and Mt Hess among the rugged peaks of this beautiful range that also is the home of Denali as well. The Susitna River lodge, east of the river, was boarded up, and when we decided to turn back at mile 77 we were starting to get a bit hungry. Silly me, I was so excited about the trip that I completely ignored the possibility that we might need sustenance, so we had nothing with us. A few miles west of the river is a tiny enterprise called Gracious House Lodge B&B at historic milepost 82, with the supposedly famous Sluice Box Bar, and a café.

We stopped thanks to the handwritten sign on the road proclaiming pie and espresso, but the restaurant was closed and the only pie available was a wondrous creation that had been frozen for $30 bucks each.

Carol was delightful, and assured me that her pies were world famous, and that if we weren’t outsiders, we would know that they were a deal at any price. I agreed with her, but still couldn’t quite opt for a 30 dollar pie. I did buy an espresso for me and a latte for Mo and enjoyed visiting with Carol who told me all about the lodge, the slow summer, the reason for closing the restaurant, and all about her kids, grandkids, and husband. They have lived here for 31 years, (her husband actually lived her for 55 years), have traveled the Highway to the south five times because they get cabin crazy, and are really wanting to sell the place and leave the wilderness.

With a good jolt of java we continued west, enjoying the views. For a day or two now, the exhaust pipe on the Tracker has been loose and rattling, and Mo tied it up with a piece of wire till we can get it welded. But the sound we suddenly heard on the gravel road was something new, and Mo pulled out immediately to a beautiful spot overlooking the Nenana River Valley and the Alaska Range to see one of her brand new tires going very flat. The spare was ready, the lug nuts were loose enough to actually remove, and we got the tire changed without a hitch. We were both amazed to see that the puncture was caused by the 1/2 inch hitch latch bolt that had run right into the tire. Who knows how it managed to get in there but it had punctured it and was all the way inside the tire.

We continued west back to Cantwell, checking that our chosen boondock site was still unoccupied, and asked the nice Tesoro guy where we could get the tire repaired. Of course, there was a tire repair shop right in Cantwell, although I say that loosely. We paid 40 for a used tire and 20 to mount it and it was worth every penny. Especially considering the old man who wandered out of the house to help us. By the time he was done, Mo knew most of his life story as well. Folks in Alaska are very friendly it seems, and like having someone listen to them.

We picked up the MoHo and drove back to our lake, which I since discovered aka the Milepost, is Joe Lake, used by a local air service, and that our boondock site south of the road can flood. I don’t think that will be a problem tonight. After our evening kayak, we are still sitting out by the fire with a glass of wine, enjoying the evening unhampered by bugs, wind, or rain. I somehow never envisioned moments like this when I imagined what this trip would be like. I was ready for mosquitoes, for rain, for dreary skies, for hordes of other RV’s on the road. Tonight at least, we have none of that. Just wilderness all around us, a sky that is many shades of blue and white and gray, a glassy lake all to ourselves, and a free campsite.

One last thing. Erin asked the other day about how I manage the Pelican Waterproof Camera case in the kayak. First of all, we have Adirondack boats from Swift Canoe in Canada, and bought them specifically for the roomy cockpits so that Mo could paddle with Abby. For me, that equates to plenty of room for the Pelican. I lock it up while launching and if the water is smooth, I’ll open it up and can even switch lenses mid stream if needed. Seems to be a great system and I no longer have to be afraid to take the good camera out on the water. Hmm, that wide angle lens does really great things for my legs. ewwwww!

Miles traveled today in the MoHo: 37

Miles traveled in the Tracker on the Denali Highway 150 or so

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here

Day 5 July 10 The Cariboo Highway to the Yellowhead

And no, it isn’t spelled “caribou” as in the animal.

In the late afternoon shadows on Fraser Lake, we were serenaded by the haunting call of the north, the loon. I have heard their singular cries often on NatGeo specials, listened as some nature photographer captured the essence of wild northern lakes, but it is the first time I have seen a loon up close on the water. I couldn’t believe how big he was, and how very loud. He let us get within a few hundred feet while his mate stayed much father away from us. I didn’t see any little ones, but with the racket dad was making to draw us away from mom, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were out there.

The water was smooth when we launched, but turned rough and windy, so I was glad that I hadn’t brought the good camera. For now, the point and shoot is all I will take with me in the kayak unless I can be assured all is glassy smooth. When I heard the loon, I thought I could maybe get a video with sound, and snapped on the baby camera only to get the dreaded message, “Battery Exhausted”. Sigh. I had just put in the new battery before we went out in the boats, but with the power shifts and inverter on/off kind of thing, it somehow wasn’t fully charged. Yeah, I know, always carry a spare, and I did, in the motorhome. So no photo of the loon couple.

It just started raining a bit ago, and the skies are heavy and dark. We are settled in quietly at Beaumont Provincial Park on Fraser Lake, about 86 miles west of Prince George on the Yellowhead Highway. We landed about 2:30, with plenty of time to take Abby for a swim and then go for a kayak on the lake before supper. I thought we might be entering the wilderness when we headed west from PG, but not so much. Evidently this string of lakes along the Yellowhead are popular with the local weekend RVing crowd, since there was a long line of rigs returning east on this Sunday afternoon. Lucky for us it was Sunday, since the park was almost empty and once again our no-reservation plan is working. Camping here along the lake is 16 Canadian dollars, for a spot and no hookups, but it is lovely.

Today was my turn to drive, and we actually got out of Clinton at 7:30 this morning, knowing we had a long driving day planned. I am sure there are sights to be seen along the Cariboo Highway, 97 north, the Gold Road as they call it, but we still are pushing to get north. I think now we are north enough to move a bit more slowly. The 335 miles that we logged today covered long straight miles of gorgeous road, much of it newly developed 4 lane highway, smooth as silk and no traffic at all. I am sure we are leaving all that silky road behind us before long, so I appreciated it a lot today.

I lived in Prince George for a few months in 1973, and drove there in a very old car with my 4 babies on a long winter night in January. That is another long story that probably will never get told, but I couldn’t help comparing that drive to the one today in utter luxury. In those days I think the road must have been wilder and more terrifying, the wilderness was everywhere. My first taste of wilderness today was the sound of that loon.

But this morning the sun was shining when we left Clinton. The one stop that drew us in was the Heritage Display at 108 Mile House. the information center and museum were still closed, but we did enjoy walking around the grounds and admiring the beautiful log buildings that have been so lovingly restored. The “houses” along the Cariboo Highway were developed during the gold rush and gave the weary miners safety, shelter, a bed and some food along the way north. Still called 100 Mile House, 133 Mile House, 150 Mile House, I’m glad they didn’t try to change the house to something or other Meter House!

Since I was driving today, there are fewer photos, and the few times I really wanted to stop for some shots of the flooding Fraser River there absolutely wasn’t a single place to pull off. The Fraser is a magnificent river, draining the Fraser Plateau all the way to the Pacific Ocean, with a rich and wild history from the fur trappers to the present day. It was chocolate brown and angry today, filled to the banks from all the recent flooding in the northern part of BC, and carrying all sorts of logs and debris torn from the riverbanks. It was exciting just to see it.

We crossed the Quesnel River and the drove beside the Fraser through the cute little town of Quesnel. I remember when I lived in Prince George that I wished we could live in Quesnel. I had no desire to try to see anything in Prince George. My memories there weren’t especially good, and the town has quadrupled in size since those days. I was happy to just drive on the outskirts, hook up to Highway 16 and skip the whole thing. This is a trip about going north, about wilderness where we can find it, about silence and solitude and big landscapes, not about towns.

The rain has stopped, Mo is reading while I write, and I am wondering how long the evening will stay light. Even with the dark overhanging clouds, I don’t expect darkness to fall anytime soon. We are glad for the light darkening shades that we have throughout the MoHo, and I think they will come in handy as we continue north.

I don’t have an internet connection tonight, so can’t spend a lot of time looking up things like weather, sunset and sunrise times, or reading blogs and my only job is to write this piece and then drop into bed and try to remember what I was last reading on the Kindle. Actually, the Kindle remembers for me, good thing, since there are a lot of books that I loaded up before taking off on this journey and I haven’t had a moment to pick it up since we started.

Tomorrow: Smithers and on to the Cassiar Highway

Miles traveled today: 335

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here.

Day 3 July 8 Toppenish to the Okanogan Wine Country

It’s easy to be inspired this evening as I sit here looking out over the Okanogan River from our picnic table. This is our third night out, with no reservations, a Friday night at that, and so far it has been great. Tonight we are at the Osoyoos Lake State Park in Oroville, Washington, less than five miles from the Canadian border. The state of Washington turned over this park to the city of Oroville in 2010, so it is technically no longer a state park, but it is lovely nonetheless.

We have no hookups, but it isn’t really boondocking, since we paid for a site on the river and are in a campground. There are no hookups here at all, but there is a dump station, fresh water, a boat launch and lovely facilities if you need them. After driving a good portion of the day we thought it would be smart to relax with a bottle of wine and a good night’s sleep before we cross the border in the morning. The bottle of wine was a treat, provided by the small, intimate tasting room for Okanogan wines right in the little town of Oroville.

When we arrived at the park, the sign was up saying “campground full” , but we thought we would check anyway, and sure enough there had been cancellations and there was a perfect space waiting for us. Without hookups, setting up consisted of setting the parking brake, lowering the semi automatic levelers, and deploying the slide. Within minutes we were headed back to town to the winery looking for a good bottle of red to celebrate before we entered Canada. We weren’t disappointed, with a lovely 2006 blended red called Bench Rock, and a bottle of crisp dry Riesling to travel with us tomorrow.

There were some lovely folks in the small tasting room from Canada, who helped us better understand the Imperial Ounce and Liter requirements for bringing alcoholic beverages into the country. Two bottles of wine or 24 bottles of beer each, or one bottle of wine and 12 beers. What we hadn’t realized is that is for each person, so we could buy a bottle of wine for supper and still take another into the country to travel with us across the wilderness.

Our morning started with a bang, with no turn signals on the tow car. Mo scratched a bit at the terminals, and then we pulled into the casino across the street from our campground and dug out the owner’s manual. Mo has a nice little box with a gazillion different fuses, and with the diagram and the box of fuses we were fixed in no time. Just a blown fuse, but that can be a nightmare if you don’t have a clue where it goes.

Our driving day was beautiful, passing over the Yakima valley and crossing the mountains down into Ellensburg and back up Blewett Pass toward Wenatchee. Blewett Pass was gorgeous, with clouds darkening the skies and temperatures in the 50’s. Mo and I still had on shorts and light tops from the 85 degree morning in Toppenish! As we dropped down from the pass into Cashmere, and then Wenatchee, the temperatures again began to warm up. Deanna and Keith lived in Wenatchee for many years and raised their boys there. I visited often, and it was fun to see the city again, even though we only drove past on the north side of town via Highway 2. I also just realized that this is the same Highway 2 that Mo and I drove across the northern part of the country last year all the way to Wisconsin! I couldn’t believe just how much traffic there was buzzing around Wenatchee. It had become a big city now, or at least it thinks it is, and at least has the traffic for one.

Continuing north from Wenatchee along the Columbia River was enchanting. The landscape is somewhat arid, but the terraces along the river are rich alluvial soils that support more orchards and fruit than I have seen anywhere. Miles and miles of apples, ripe cherries, apricots, and pears lined the road on both sides of the river punctuated by fruit stands every mile or so. The area from Wenatchee to Yakima is one of the major fruit baskets of the United States.

We had full hookups last night, and this morning Mo opened up the sewer all the way and did a long and complete backflush. We aren’t sure if the mouse has just dried up or if the sewer was contributing to the odor, but it seems to be gone. This morning our drive was uneventful until we landed in Omak, home of the famous Suicide Race and the Omak Stampede.

American Propane was on the highway and looked easy to navigate so we turned around and pulled in. A nice young man filled our tank, and then Mo thought she could make the turnaround, but oops, guess not. The Tracker was angled so tightly that we couldn’t back it and the only solution was to unhook. Of course, the sharp angle made that a bit challenging, but in a moment it came apart and we just pulled out and hooked up the toad after Mo got turned around. Haven’t had to do that since we were back in Ohio,last year on some podunk tiny road, but we were glad the problem was easily solved. Of course, it’s a bit embarrassing to have to unhook and rehook when you know the guys inside the shop are all watching and probably just laughing at us. We paid them 3.35 per gallon for the propane thinking it was going to be much more expensive if we had to fill it up in Canada.

After we settled in to the park, we put the kayaks on the river and paddled downstream a bit with the current before turning around and going back north to the lake. On the lake, the water was a bit rough, but it was lovely and warm, and wonderful to be out in the boats again.

We drove 254 miles today on good two lane roads most of the day except for a tiny bit of the I-90 as we approached Ellensburg. For us, that is a nice distance to drive in a day, and we still have time to relax in the afternoon and not feel rushed. We chose to travel US highway 97 for our entire route across Oregon and Washington, and by choosing this route we avoided all the hassle and traffic of the coastal route through Portland, Seattle, and the busy crossing at Bellingham. Everyone says this is an easy crossing, and I guess we will find out tomorrow morning when we finally enter British Columbia.

It still doesn’t feel like the “trip” yet, and I suppose that won’t happen until we are past Prince George heading west toward the Cassiar. For the moment, however, it’s perfect. The skies are clear, the temperatures warm, the breezes crisp, and the water is lapping at our footsteps.

The rest of the photos for today are linked here

Tomorrow: Osoyoos to Clinton, BC