The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

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 6 July 11 The Yellowhead

I was so happy that we kayaked in the afternoon yesterday, because by late evening the sky was dark and the clouds were thick with heavy rain. All night long the rain sang on the roof of the rig but by morning it had slowed to a gentle drip. By the time we hooked up the Tracker, the rain had stopped, even though the air was still misty. Today we are traveling the Yellowhead Highway, 16, the route that connects Prince Rupert on the BC coast to Edmonton, Alberta, by way of Prince George. When I was in Prince George in 1973, the road was fairly new, and one day we drove east a bit to just say we had been on it. I remember lots of snow and ice, and trees, and boring.

That certainly wasn’t the case today as we traveled west on the Yellowhead. Fraser Lake to the north of the highway was still shrouded in dark clouds as we passed, but by the time we reached the Lakes District the sun was trying to shine on us. We stopped at a rest area called Tintagel Cairn, with an interesting stone in the center of the cairn that was from Tintagel Castle in England, supposedly the birthplace of King Arthur. The sign at the rest stop had maps of what is called the Lakes District. These lakes are huge, long crevasses in the glaciated landscape, much like the Finger Lakes of New York, but exponentially bigger. Many of the roads leading to these huge lakes are rough gravel and not advised for RV’s.

With the cloudy day ahead, we read the Milepost and thought that a visit to the charming little town of Smithers might be fun in addition to a planned visit to the New Hazelton area. Both towns have excellent visitor centers, a great resource that we try to use often when traveling. The highway was great, smooth and wide, and very little traffic on this Monday morning. Arriving in Smithers before noon, we found the visitor center and parked across the street, picked up a map of the town, and walked toward Main Street.

Smithers is an interesting mix of tourist town, ski town, mountain bike town, and First Nations town. There was definitely an interesting mix of people on the streets, and there were a good number of fancy outdoor outfitter shops. I stepped into one and emerged with a nifty Pelican waterproof case with foam inserts that is made for kayakers and cameras. Even if it goes in, it floats, and there is some kind of weird pressure release valve that will keep the camera from getting crushed by the weight of the water. I don’t expect to be in that kind of water, but am still tickled that I can now take the good camera and telephoto lens out on the lake with a bit less trepidation.

We walked around Smithers for an hour or so and enjoyed a latte and tea from a corner kiosk that tasted wonderful. In the Milepost we read about Twin Falls, a must see in the Smithers Area and the visitor center provided a nice local map to the Twin Falls Road. As we started up the trail, the sun started to emerge, and glimpses of the snow covered mountains all around Smithers peeked through the clouds. The hike to the falls was just fifteen minutes or so of incline to the viewing platform, but we decided to go on to the base of the falls. Beautiful.

As we drove back down to town, the sun was out all the way and the mountains west of town took my breath away. We stopped at an RV wash just north of the main intersection to get the road grime off the Tracker before going back to the visitor center. There is a free dump, free WiFi, and good water all available and easily accessible. Since we planned to boondock for the next 2 or 3 days, it was important to start fresh with enough water and clean tanks. In no time at all, my photos were uploaded and the blog pages that I wrote the previous day were posted. Sure wish my internet at home was that fast!

Continuing north on Highway 16, we followed the raging Bulkley River past the native village of Moricetown where the native people took advantage of the narrow canyon to trap salmon. Our route continued north and west to “The Hazeltons”, three communities that are centered around Old Hazelton. Situated at the confluence of the Bulkley and Skeena Rivers, Hazelton grew up as a major transportation and navigation center, and a wintering place for miners and prospectors from the daunting Interior. We crossed the suspension bridge that spans the Bulkley River high above a magnificent canyon, surrounded by craggy, snowcapped mountains. There is much to see in Old Town Hazelton, but it was getting late in the day and it was time to move on. We stopped in at the local tribal store and filled up for a mere 1.24 per liter, 4.57 per gallon C$ still not sure what the US exchange is right now, but it is somewhere between 4 and 6 percent higher. I bought a half gallon of milk, a bag of chips, and two Haagen Daz bars and it cost me 15.80. I didn’t get a receipt so I have no clue what particular bit of that package was outrageously priced.

It was with some internal excitement that I saw the sign at the junction of the Highway 16 and Highway 37. The Stewart-Cassiar Highway seemed to me to truly be the epitome of wild British Columbia, and we were there at last. Our original plans were to go to Meziadin Provincial Park, about 97 miles north of the junction, and then earlier this morning we decided that we would rather boondock somewhere along the highway. It was getting close to 7:30 and around mile 50 we started looking in earnest for a place to stop. We found a small lake, with three campsites, and dropped down into a mosquito infested hole that already had a crusty camper and a crusty dude settling in, and decided that we wanted to be out somewhere alone, not smashed in close to someone else. It was tight in there, so we had to unhook to get back out, and after a few moments of traveling companion backing conversation, we managed to get back on the road. You all know those conversations, and we don’t usually have them, so it was funny when it was over.

We actually saw two young bears, but even going 50 mph, we had no way to stop to see them, or nowhere to pull off, so it was just a quick sighting and they were gone. Within a couple miles we found another pull off, this time it was just off the road and no one else was around. The sun was still high in the sky, even close to 8 pm, and we lowered the jacks, put out the slide, and in no time at all had our supper on the trays. Mo went to bed while once more I tried to manage the 200 photos that I took today, and I gave up without writing a word about the day’s travels. I know that I have to write every day, because it is so very hard to regenerate all we have seen a day later. The only way I can keep track is with a review of the Milepost and my photos. I started marking photo sites in the Milepost since my camera doesn’t have GPS capability. I actually thought about trying to shoot an iPhone shot at each site to get coordinates, but decided that was just plain stupid. Red pen in the Milepost is working fine.

I stayed awake until after ten, watching the sun set on the mountains around us and listening to the silence. An occasional truck would go past, but as the night wore on, I never heard a thing and slept wonderfully. I think it may have been the quietest, darkest night we have spent on the road. Perfect.

Miles driven today from point 7 to point 12 about 275

Road Conditions: 2 lane perfect all the way

I took a LOT of photos today, including some gorgeous wildflowers at our boondock site, the link is here

TOMORROW: 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 4 July 9 Into the British Columbia desert!

Somehow I never knew that there was a huge part of south central British Columbia that is arid sage country. The southern part of the Okanogan Valley only receives about 12 inches of rain a year, and the shrub/grassland community is referred to as Canada’s “pocket desert”. It is a beautiful region, filled with wildlife, wine, rivers, and wildflowers, and I would love to come back and spend some extended time exploring. Today, however, we have other goals. We are saving most of the exploring for the northern parts of the province, for the Yukon, and for Alaska.

We were up early with the light, and were on the road by 8:30 or so after a lovely walk with Abby along the beautiful Lake Osoyoos. We didn’t bother hooking up right away, since the gas station was right at the entrance of the park. We filled the MoHo again, at 3.79 per gallon and 123 bucks, but it was only half full, not empty. Sure am glad we aren’t filling an empty tank! I guess it all works out in the end anyway. A quick hook up right there in the gas station was easy since no one was coming in behind us, and we were off for our entry into Canada.

The border is barely five miles north of Oroville, and we were ready for our crossing, with passports, registrations, animal health certificates, and rehearsed answers. Where are we going? “Fort Richardson, near Anchorage, Alaska”. The customs officer was a tiny woman with a serious face. No silly comments, Sue, just keep your mouth shut and don’t offer anything. Let Mo do the talking. Fine. Of course, it was as simple for us as most folks, with a few questions, and not a single comment about the country of origin of our animal food, no questions about wasp spray (yes we carry it instead of pepper spray), and no questions about food except what produce we had. At that point I piped up with “Five pounds of potatoes, some onions, a bag of carrots, and 2 bags of packaged coleslaw”. Somehow that answer seemed to satisfy all her other questions and she said, “OK, go on”.

Osoyoos is right at the border and has an excellent information center. We pulled in immediately, and the guides there were really helpful, insisting that we should drive all the way north on 97. I looked again at our map, and thought, “no, that isn’t the plan” and we turned west on Highway 3 toward Princeton. It was a great drive, leading us through the beautiful, fertile valley of the Similkameen River, lush and filled with orchards and organic farms, wineries and fruit stands. We stopped so I could add some good produce to my limited supply for crossing the border and I got some ripe, soft, very red tomatoes, and fresh crisp pickle cukes that were perfect for our supper salad.

We stopped to take photos of the wildflowers, and the roads were in excellent condition for most of the day. We circumvented Kamloops and the major part of the Okanogan Valley with this route, but also skipped a lot of traffic and congestion that we got a little taste of as we passed through Merritt. I turned off my phone since I don’t want to pay the huge fees for a data plan, so couldn’t use the gas buddy app to figure out where we would get the cheapest gas. We filled up again in Merritt, and figuring in the exchange of 1.04, and 3.75 liters per US gallon, it cost a whopping $5.34 per gallon and $156.52 to fill the half full tank one more time. We laughed and said that maybe we need to sit a day or two so our daily cost can drop a bit! I am using a Capital One credit card while in Canada since, as advertised on TV, they really don’t charge that exchange fee that some other cards do. I also called them before traveling so hopefully I won’t get denied at the pumps. So far so good.

Emerging from Highway 8, which was perfectly fine to travel, to TransCanada 1, we followed along the huge and very full Thompson River. The mountains seemed so much like the dry parts of Montana that I was really surprised, and then we would round a curve and there were deeply eroded badlands that looked ever so much like landscapes I have seen in Wyoming or Utah. Once we were on Highway 97 however, the landscape started to change, with pines showing up, and then suddenly we were back in lush green fir country, and we arrived at the small town of Clinton, BC.

The Gold Trail RV Park here seems to be a popular stop, and it was our choice because we wanted full hookups before we continue north to the Provincial Parks. It also has our CampClub USA discount, and even on a Saturday night, there was an opening for us. As I mentioned earlier, we decided to travel as much as possible without reservations, and so far it is working. Gold Trail Park has an interesting vibe, maybe you could call it “down home”? The owner in “interesting”, and very friendly, and he joked with us a lot while showing us to our site. Full hookups, and surprisingly level, for $17. Canadian. (I did use the ATM and my no fee debit card to get some Canadian cash back at the visitor center). For another 3 bucks in Canadian change I have darn fast WiFi to actually upload photos and catch up on blog posting!

There is a big bbq buffet here every night, fairly cheap at 9.95, but Mo and I didn’t really want an all you can eat thing, and decided instead to grill some Alaska cod from the freezer accompanied by the yummy salad from the Similkameen Valley. (Now I have to go to the internet to look up how to pronounce that name, since who has a clue which syllable get’s the emphasis!) OK, I can’t believe I never knew this, but if you type in “pronounce Similkameen” into the google search bar you will get this. Love it!

After supper we walked the extent of the town down one side and up the other in the evening light. Right on the Cariboo Highway, the town actually has an interesting history. Even though it was Saturday night and the museum was closed, the village has great signs throughout with historic photographs of the enterprises that once occupied the empty blocks taken from the same vantage point. The villagers have pride in their little community as well, with a town notice for clean up day to get ready for the town flower judges who will pass through later this month. Summer flowers or not, I can’t quite imagine living here through a long, dreary, icy winter.

The skies have been brilliantly blue so far throughout our trip, but this evening there are some clouds hovering to the north and the forecast may include rain as we continue. This evening has been quiet and gorgeous, the vistas are all brand new, the faces and people are all different, even the cars don’t look the same. I’m definitely on a long-distance road trip at last.

Distance driven today: about 255 miles

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