lakes – Page 4 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

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 7 July 12 The Cassiar

At the moment, I am trying to mentally and emotionally process the difference. I have traveled and worked in mountains all my life. The big named ranges in the US are familiar to me: The Cascades, The Sierras, The Bitterroots, The Bighorns, The San Gabriel Mountains, The Colorado Rockies, The Smokies. All magnificent mountains in their own right, each with a distinct personality. Here I am unsure of the ranges, the names are not even on the scale of map I am using for British Columbia.

I have finally decided it is the glaciation that makes the difference. Huge sheets of ice, miles thick, extending hundreds of miles in all directions once covered these mountains and it shows. Continental glaciation from 10 to 100 thousand years ago has rounded even some of the highest peaks, and huge piles of glacial debris line the river valleys. More recently, alpine glaciation has carved jagged ridges, peaks, and hanging valleys. Avalanche chutes scar slopes that are close to 100 percent, rising at least 1000 feet from where we are driving along the highway to the top of the ridge.

Big. Such a small word for such a concept. These mountains are big, and they go forever. We have been driving for days now through the bigness of British Columbia, with not just miles, but hundreds of miles of breathtaking landscapes around every curve.

The magnificence of the mountains is reflected over and over again in brilliant blue lakes, lily covered ponds, and wild rivers. British Columbia is also a land of big rivers.

Again, the big word isn’t really “big” enough to describe the power and size of the Skeena River, the Bulkley River, the Bell-Irving River. The “creeks” we cross on one lane wooden platform bridges are as big as many rivers at home. Huge glaciated mountains, small glaciers resting in the summits, powerful strong rivers, wild creeks milky from glacial melt, and forests. Miles and miles and miles of forests, lodgepole, northern spruce, sitka spruce, fir, and into the subalpine firs of the higher mountains, all shades of green.

We are traveling through all this magnificence on a highway only completed with the building of the Nass Bridge in 1972. At the moment we are about 175 miles north of the Yellowhead-Cassiar junction and have yet to see a speck of gravel or a single construction zone. The pavement is smooth as glass, with newly painted yellow lines everywhere except for the few areas of fresh chip seal road. Even the minimal extent of chip seal is solid and smooth, they just don’t have the lines painted yet.

We woke this morning to utter silence. Surprisingly, with the late night sunset, the sun wasn’t up until 6am this morning. We woke about 5 and after hooking up the Protect-a-Tow were on the road by 7:30. Not before a moment of entertainment, however. As we sat sipping our morning tea in the dim light, a pick-up drove up and parked not ten feet from our rig. We watched for a moment while a man got out and stood on the highway side of his truck looking around a bit strangely. I finally opened a window and asked if he needed to get past our rig and he said, “No, I’m just taking a whiz”. Mo and I laughed in astonishment. Why now, and why here? There are ten miles in either direction of us with plenty of places to stop. Did he just need to mark his territory near our truck? Was he checking to see if anyone was around the rig? Was he just oblivious? Too too funny.

Even though Mo drove yesterday, she asked if she could drive again today. She knows that I want to be taking photos, and day before yesterday I made the mistake of shooting a couple of shots while driving. Not a good plan. I promised I wouldn’t do it again, but she said she would rather drive than have to sit doing nothing except letting Jeremy crawl around on her lap. So Mo is driving and I am finally taking some time to write. It’s hard to do, however, I keep thinking I will miss something, but magnificence just keeps showing up no matter when I look up, and after awhile I suppose that one more gorgeous glacier on a gorgeous mountain will eventually become redundant.

The bears haven’t read the Milepost, I guess, because so far, except for the two young ones we saw last night, there haven’t been any wildlife sightings on the highway. The sky is such a brilliant gorgeous blue, with tiny puffs of cloud very far away over some of the mountains. The temperature is about 63F, and every few miles we see another more perfect boondock site or another lake. Ever few miles or so we see another rig, and have passed a few loaded logging trucks coming south. One unloaded truck flew past us while we were stopped at the Bell-Irving rest stop, but we have yet to encounter any of the big aggregate trucks that ply the highway.

We stopped in for a drive-through of Meziadin Provincial Park and Meziadin Lake, a place where we originally planned to camp last night. It was lovely, $16. Canadian for no hookups, but sites right on the lake. Manicured, a bit crowded, and nice. There is a tiny store and supposedly there is WiFi there. We were glad to have camped free at our silent roadside stop. A bit beyond the Bell-Irving River we came to the Mehan Lake rest stop. There were picnic tables and trails around the lake, and a spot where we could have launched the kayaks. Instead, Mo thought she wanted to keep driving, and we know there will be more lakes along the way. We will see what happens next.

Note: first fairly bumpy chip seal road at mile 208.

Much later: I am so glad that we didn’t take the time to kayak Mehan Lake. We continued up the highway enjoying the changing scenery and at mile 227 the sign for Kinaskan Provincial Park invited us to drive in and take a look. We certainly didn’t plan to stop this early in the day, after all, it was only noon or so and we had only driven 175 miles since we left. We wanted another boondock night, both to save money, and to enjoy the solitude.

Kinaskan Lake had other plans for us, though. The park was nearly empty, with site after site nestled along one of the prettiest lakes I have ever seen. The sun was shining, it was in the mid-70’s, and a lakefront campsite with free firewood beckoned. We couldn’t resist. We had our very only kayak launch just feet from the car, and decided that a relaxed afternoon of boating and relaxing shouldn’t be missed. Huge clouds were threatening a shift in the weather, it could even be raining by tomorrow, so I didn’t want to give up a gorgeous day on a gorgeous lake when we had the chance.

It has been perfect. We set up, and decided that the lake was so smooth we wanted to go out right away. A couple perfect hours out on the lake exploring yielded another loon pair, and I practiced with my 200 lens, still unable to get close enough to really catch that great red eye. We then we came home and decided to make an afternoon supper. After steak on the grill and yummy salad, the gorgeous lake beckoned us again and I said, “Maybe we could just go out and float around and enjoy the reflections?” The paddling was so incredibly perfect, we decided instead to cross the lake, about 2 miles according to the paddle garmin, and we found a beautiful rocky cove on the far side. On the way back, we passed another loon, and later closer to shore, another one serenaded us with his magical call. The stillness and the reflections on the lake of the wild clouds was incredible.

It only took half an hour to cross the lake, even with me stopping every little bit to take photos. On our earlier kayak I took the big camera with all the lenses in the Pelican case, but this time I just took the baby camera. This evening has been spent deciding which photos are keepers and which need to be ruthlessly culled. It’s only 8:30 and I had visions of waiting for sunset after ten, but something tells me that a few hours of kayaking and a couple hundred miles of riding is enough for one day. Mo built a hot sparkly campfire with the free wood provided just across from our site. It was hot, dry wood and lit immediately, of course we had a couple of fatwood sticks to help it along. I think I won’t make it to sunset and as soon as the fire dies down I am going to draw the shades against that gorgeous bright sky and go to sleep.

Miles driven today from stop 12 to stop 13: 175

Excellent 2 lane smooth paved with a couple 20 mile sections of well done chip seal, no loose rock

Some truly gorgeous photos that you may not want to miss are linked here

Tomorrow: Northern part of the Cassiar Highway

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

Heck of an early winter here

Nice to have a new follower, I am always amazed when that happens. Thank you. Barry and Linda are talking about boondocking sites, always an interesting subject.

The guest cabin is getting buried!

Although for the last few days I haven’t been spending much time reading. Every morning I have shoveled 2 to 4 inches of snow from the driveway, enjoying it actually, until today when we had more than a foot dumped on us overnight. It seemed like a little bit too much, I had nowhere to throw it and it’s only November. Mo tried to start up the snow blower to finish the job, but it wouldn’t go, so I shoveled and she plowed and after about 3 hours we had the driveway and road passable. This big storm has rampaged across the northwest, leaving snow in Victoria, ice in Bellingham, and wreaking general havoc on roads and highways all over the place. We knew it was coming, but the predicted temperatures tomorrow are below zero, and that’s Fahrenheit, not Celsius! The wind blew hard all night and covered the wide front and back porches with hard, icy snow that I couldn’t scrape off no matter how hard I tried. I think I am ready for a break already. Yeah, I know it’s only November.

I’ll be off to visit a friend in Florida for a week in early December while Mo keeps the home fires burning and the road plowed. The day I return, we are jumping in the Tracker and going to pick up the MoHo in Redding and find some sunshine in Desert Hot Springs for Christmas week. Whew! I am having Thanksgiving this year, so there will be some good family time there, and told my Klamath daughter and grandkids that I would celebrate a late Christmas with them when we return.

The road to Medford on the way to Costco

The road home from Medford. Class A with no chains??

Yesterday Mo and I decided to make a Costco run. For us, that is a 45 mile drive to Medford, over the pass on Highway 140, past Lake of the Woods and down the Crater Lake Highway. It’s usually a beautiful drive and we can be at the Costco parking lot in less than an hour. Not so yesterday. After our morning snow exercises, we left around ten and the storm was already coming on fairly strong. By the time we left Medford and headed back east, it was in full force, with many sliders and slow vehicles trying to get over the pass. I was especially surprised by the big Class A motorhome stranded on the pass trying to get out the the Basin. I have no clue why someone would attempt to drive a big rig like that over a stormy, snowy pass, with chains required signs everywhere, but with no chains.

Today we had to go the opposite direction, again after morning snow exercises and on another snowy, icy road. I ordered a free range organic fresh turkey from Howard’s Meats in Klamath Falls and of course needed to do the rest of the Thanksgiving shopping there as well. On the way home, we saw that Klamath Lake is beginning to freeze already, and there are still hundreds of ducks in the bay, and even some Canada geese. Tonight that little bit of open water is going to close in even more. I worry about the birds. Our lake and basin is on the major Pacific flyway and these little ones are on a clock that didn’t include subzero temperatures in November. Heck, we rarely get sub zero temperatures in the deepest of winter!

The MoHo is in Redding, where tomorrow morning the temperatures are predicted in the low 20’s. Pooh. We drained the tanks, but didn’t put antifreeze in the drains. The whole reason for that expensive storage place is that Redding rarely drops below 30 degrees and we wouldn’t have to winterize. Sigh again. Mo thought about driving down there today while I did the Klamath shopping, but 3 hours each way in a winter storm isn’t particularly fun. After talking to some folks we decided that the rig would probably be fine. The temperatures will go low, but it is inside, and the sun will be out and the temps in the 40’s by 10 am. Tomorrow is the coldest day, so we are watching the weather map on weatherunderground and hoping it won’t be as bad as predicted.

Tomorrow is the big cooking day, so as long as the power grid holds up I should be busy. Mo also got the snow blower running this evening so my shoveling time might be a bit less. Who knows. I love winter, and I love being able to leave it as well! It’s the best of all worlds.