WEEK THREE

This needs no explanation.

June 6, 2003-Aliens

When you’re young and having fun, time flies. For us it flies with the speed of Superman. Here we are beginning week three and we haven’t even absorbed week one. Well, when we get back to Lake Rd and the evenings are cool we will sit in our glider under the dogwoods and recall how these good times flew by.

Speaking of young we have a grandson who is entering the last of his preteens today. Ryan is twelve and that is but another reminder of how swiftly the days fly. We remember the day he was born and holding him for the first time. Each year his birthday comes quicker and quicker and I think there may fewer months between them now. It is fearsome to think how we will manage to get to his college graduation, in ten years, on time. At the rate time seems to accelerate we will have to start getting ready the week before the event and leave the house the day preceding it to get there at all, hopefully on time.

Well while this has been going into memory Onie fixed breakfast and we ate. In addition it began to rain. You will remember we are moving on today so I have to get moving and get the shore lines unhooked, connect the toad and do the morning walk around.

There will be a brief intermission.

The lights are dimming, please return to your chairs. You may take your popcorn and drink with you

We are on the road again, headed north.

No sun accompanies today. There is a drizzle falling from the overcast clouds. The high temp for the day will be a humid sixty-four degrees.

With Onie navigating and me doing my job, driving, we head for our evening stop in Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest at Day Lake. Four and a half hours pass and the trip odometer passes the 2000-mile mark before we get there. During that time we make some observations and see some interesting sights.

One of the first things I noticed was that the Fish & Game Dept of Wisconsin seems to be trying to give the deer an unfair advantage. On a hiway sign that showed a deer crossing they had posted a no stopping, standing or parking sign. How is a fella supposed to get these guys when they get in the bar ditch if he can’t park near the sign? Every hunter knows that to be successful you have to be able to read the signs and now they are taking away that advantage. I can assure you this will only lead to more deer being struck by vehicles and is a short sighted plan.

Secondly, a good number of aliens occupy Wisconsin and the further north you go the more there are. I was able to deduce this by the fact that a great number of them can’t read the English language. That is what the road signs are posted in. On our adventure for today we spent most of the day on two lane hilly roads, sometimes curvy. These creatures can’t read the language for they grossly exceed the speed limits, this includes school buses, ignore no passing zones, pass on blind curves, fail to stop where the sign says and on and on. Now you understand why I believe I am driving among aliens. To be sure there were a few who weren’t so blatant in their behavior but I took these to be the younger ones who have yet to commit to memory their daily routes and thus drive slower while looking for landmarks.

We may have unknowingly driven into a time warp. We drove thru Dorchester. I saw kids on the street; pre teen boys with good haircuts, shined shoes and pants that fit, preteen girls in saddle shoes wearing pigtails and neatly starched dresses and the teens-well that was even more fantastic, they were helping old folks and working in the local stores. They looked human even though they may have been the offspring of the aliens that drive the roads but I did see a sign right in the heart of town that immediately set my mind at ease on how these youngsters were kept in line. It is hard to believe that such a thing could be allowed in twenty first century America but right there on Main Street was a big sign that said “BRAT ROAST TODAY”. I mean these kids, aliens or whatever they may be had better walk the line. I was hard on my kids, maybe too hard. When they failed to say sir or ma’m I whacked ‘em good just like Dad had done me but to roast ‘em just for being Brats seemed a little harsh, but it obviously works.

The churches up here are very different too. They are free, its true. I saw the signs; Free Apostolic etc, etc, Free Will Baptist, Free Church etc,. This is the way it should be. Church should be free. I don’t think Christ ever took up a collection.

This was a great day for grandsons. We went through a town named Colby. The town advertised it was the home of Colby Cheese. It was also the home of the Colby Hornets, the Colby Pharmacy, the Colby Hardware, Bar and everything else in town was Colby etc. Well, of course we were proud having a whole town, a cheese and multiple businesses named for our grandson but we never let on, we drove right through without so much as a “by your leave”.

By now we noticed that the aliens had shrunk the horizon. Where in Iowa and lower Wisconsin the horizon had been distant, here it was close. The earth stopped at the top of the next tree-covered hill. No longer could we see into the distance over the grain-covered hills. Our world had shrunk. It might have become the world of the original Wisconsin dwellers, the mound builders.

Today this tribe is known as the Ho-Chunks. They used to be known as the Winebagos but when they got tired of traveling and settled down they took the name Ho- Chunk, after they opened their first casino. One week after they opened they counted the house take and said “Ho-Chunk” and there upon changed their name. This is true. You can find their casino and resort at Ho-Chunk.com.

Speaking of mound builders the descendants of those guys along the Mississippi moved up here to central Wisconsin and opened dairies. They are still building mounds, adjacent to their barns. The first archeological graduate student I meet I’m going to suggest they explore these newer mounds. I’ll bet they find the same thing their teachers found in the old ones.

As you can see Wisconsin is full of exciting opportunities for the adventurer. I could go on and on but I really should tell you about our campsite and what is transpiring here.

We are in a national forest campground. There are fifty sites and we are here, by ourselves with fifty million mosquitoes. The jacks are down and I have taken a chain and tied us off to a large tree but it is even money as to whether or not the mosquitoes will carry us away before the night is over. Onie has prepared venison chili using Tina’s canned tomatoes. As soon as we finish our cabernet and genuine Wisconsin Swiss cheese we will dine. Tchaikovsky plays in the background to an accompaniment of rain. After chili and a movie we will rest for another rigorous tomorrow.

June 7, 2003-Hail yes

We barely got hooked up in International Falls, Minnesota before the heavy rain and small hail began to fall. Why it couldn’t have waited until about bedtime is beyond me but here it is. Of course now I have the story upside down. Bear with me and I’ll try to right it.

Well it was still raining when we woke. We watched a DVD movie last night on Onie’s computer so it was late before we tucked one another in. The gentle patter of rain helped us get a good night’s sleep so we still rose at a respectable hour, 7:00am. We had a good breakfast before getting ready to face the day and the mosquitoes. They are still everywhere this morning. Last night after going to sleep I felt myself being carried toward the door. When I woke two mosquitoes had me and a third was trying to open the door so they could get me outside and suck the last pint of blood from my already depleted veins. I roused Onie and a fight ensued. We were out numbered but in thirty or forty-five minutes we had reduced their numbers substantially. I opened the door to our bedroom and dragged the blood filled carcasses into the living area where their kin fell to feasting on the still warm bodies. I closed the door and stuffed some pants under the bottom to keep out the smaller ones. Around one Onie and I got back to sleep to the sound of rain on the roof and the sucking noise coming from the living room. Did I say we slept well? We did. It must have been the rain and the war.

We had a plan this morning. We would get everything ready to go in the coach then Onie would make a dash for the toad and back it out. We had to unhook last night since we were in a back in site. After she had the toad on the road I would pull out into position and then she would pull up behind me and we could hookup. This would only require opening and closing the door three times and hopefully limit the number of fiends that got in. That is what we did but it was tough. As soon as she went out the door she disappeared in a cloud of buzzing insects. I could tell when she got in the car since the lights come on when she starts it. She managed to get onto the road and then I pulled out as planned. When she pulled up behind me she squashed two of the varmints between the coach and the toad. One of them kicked out a driving light with its last death wiggle but other than that things went pretty smoothly. Oh, I keep my gloves I use for hooking up in the back of the Subaru. When I slammed the hatch prior to running to the coach I caught one of the malefactors by his leg. The first ten or twenty miles he was flapping around back there like an overgrown turkey but finally bit the dust at a traffic light. A trucker pulled up behind us and ran over his head. That was the end of him.

While this was going on we were heading west driving through some beautiful national forest lands. Onie had also armed herself with our big butcher knife and occasionally would send another mosquito to its just reward, whatever that is. By days end we had eliminated most of the offenders but a few would remain to be dealt with after we parked for the day.

When we turned north the landscape was still rolling but the trees gave way to scrub bushes in swampy areas. This looked like prime moose country to us but we didn’t see any. Some of the ponds did host beaver lodges. Of course the roadside had its share of road kill, deer, raccoon and porcupine. Our four lane divided hiway gave way to a two lane but the road surface remained good with wide shoulders. The further north we went the less sign there was of people. Now miles past without a mailbox, side road or even a billboard. We were nearing the Canadian border and International Falls, Minnesota.

We called ahead and had a spot reserved for tonight and tomorrow night. We would be picking our mail up Monday prior to entering Canada. This would be our last opportunity to wash clothes for a while, as we will be boondocking a lot the first few days in Canada.

We are three thousand miles from Tok, Alaska and hope to be there in fourteen or fifteen days. In the states three thousand miles in two weeks is a snap. In north western Canada, the Yukon, there are no guarantees of road conditions. If a river washes out a highway a five hundred mile detour may result and most of it may be on unpaved roads. If we are blessed with good roads all the way we will be there early and enjoy it.

“Betsy’s Wedding” played tonight on the DVD player, after dinner. It was good for a few laughs. We had a little snack of strawberries, honey and half and half before turning in.

June 8, 2003-A Day of Rest

God created the earth in six days and then he rested.

We rested on this day, too.

The rain that fell all night long continued this morning through our breakfast of Eggs Benedict, Mimosas and strawberries, cream and honey. This helped us celebrate reaching our jumping off point, from the lower 48.

We napped after breakfast and then began calling making reservations in Alaska for our favorite sites. By calling this early we were able to get all the places we want to stay. We planned out our itinerary for Haley and Tracy’s stay. Tracy made some reservations, on the web from her house, for us during her stay.

I pecked while Onie washed. After the wash was done we went to the store to get milk and pasties, a local dish we ate last year while we were on the U P of Michigan. We will nuke them and then tune up the laptop for another movie.

June 9, 2003-A New Nation

We were too tired for a movie so we turned in right after the pasties. In case you’ve forgotten this dish is pronounced “passty”.

After breakfast Onie straightened up inside while I dashed off to the local post office. When I inquired about our mail the pleasant lady behind the counter told me it had just come in. She said I would have to fill out a government form before I could get it. I asked why and explained I had never had to do that before. She said it was to assure them that if I got general delivery mail here again within the next 30 days I would rent a box. I told her if I could just have my mail I would leave the country, today. She smiled and asked where I was going and I explained. She looked at my picture ID, gave me the mail and wished me a good day. I heard her chuckle as I went out the door.

Back at the coach Onie had everything inside just about ready to travel. I flushed our holding tank, topped off the fresh water; we would be boon docking a while, disconnected the shorelines and did my last minute walk around. We didn’t hook up but did bide farewell to Voyeurer’s RV Park. Half a mile down the road we pulled into a truck stop. The guys there removed the wheel weights from the front rims and put some equalizing powder in the tires. They told me this is the way to balance large tires. I assume they know what they are talking about. While they did this I held a bag for a snipe hunt, topped off the fuel tank and made my peace with the cashier. Now we were ready to head for the border and make good on my promise but wait, there were other promises to be kept.

We parked on the lot of the truck stop and began making last minute phone calls. Some of the folks we were trying to reach we couldn’t, others we talked to briefly and then told them we would be incommunicado for a few days. We have about three thousand miles to go before we get to Alaska. Maybe I should say 5,000 kilometers--that sounds a whole lot further to me.

At last we headed for the border and Canadian immigration, Fort Francis. The last few times we had crossed the check had been perfunctory. This time was different. We got directed to the “canopy” area where “an officer will meet you”. He was a nice young man. He asked us out while he went in. He stuck his head out and asked why I had two TVs in the front of the coach. I explained that the little one on the dash isn’t really a TV but a camera to monitor the toad and to assist in backing. He seemed impressed. Twenty minutes later he came back out. In the meantime his lady assistant was looking in the Forester. I watched as she went through the glove box papers, rifled through the stuff in the console, felt in my jacket pockets and then went to the hatch door. She seemed to spend quite a while there and then asked me what was in the box. I told her it was a new sewer hose for the RV. No, that wasn’t the box she meant, the cardboard box. We had to go look to see what she was talking about. When we saw it we knew. It was the cover for the toad. It was still in the shipping box, still sealed just the way it came from Camping World. We hadn’t even opened it yet. Guess what--we got to open it right then and look at it for the first time with this young lady assisting. She thought it was very interesting. Let’s see, that is a backup camera and a car cover that holds interest for Canadian immigration, FYI. Now the young man was outside the coach. He seemed very much a gentleman and a handsome one at that. He engaged Onie in conversation and started off with something like “This is a mighty nice way to travel. What do you do for a living?” She of course replied that we are retired. Then he wanted to know how we could afford to own something like this if we are retired. I told him we didn’t, the bank does. After that he inquired about the pictures of the grandkids. We told him about them and that we are missing four pictures. He seemed quite amazed that we have nine grandkids. Then he wondered where we were going in Canada. I told him and the navigator supplied the details. It was his opinion that the way really wasn’t that scenic but then he said he drove it frequently so maybe he wasn’t a good judge. He grinned very broadly and told us he had enjoyed his visit with us and wished us a good trip. I think he had enjoyed himself. Isn’t that great?

Back in the coach we didn’t even look to see where he had been. It didn’t matter. He had looked and that we couldn’t change so why worry about it.

I fired up the Cummins, left the parking brake on, put it in drive and let it idle a few minutes to try to get the temp up close to normal. Finally with the temp reading 120, instead of 180, I eased us out on the road at 3 pm. We were in a new nation.

Onie directed us west, and then south, I thought we were going to run into the river, and then west and north. The road snaked through town like a ground rattler on the prairie and through all the good parts I might add, right along with the railroad. We finally got lined out pretty much north-by-north west and settled in to a breath taking 80 kilometer per hour (kph) speed. That would pretty much be our top speed for the next 200 miles but you know when you travel 50 miles an hour you see a lot you might miss at 70. Not too long into our drive Onie spotted two white tail deer in the bar ditch. The potholes of water at the bottoms of the hills held all kinds of ducks who seemed to get along just fine with the resident beaver. An hour and a half up the road we saw three red fox. This was a real good sighting because it was about 4:30 local time and this meant the sun was at about ten o’clock in the afternoon sky. Still later Onie spotted yet another deer. The hills and ponds kept us on alert as we traveled down our two-lane road toward Winnipeg.

Just around 8:30 the odometer turned 275 miles as we coasted into town and headed for the local Wal-Mart. This was to be a short night and I didn’t want the effort of hooking up only to go to sleep. We found a Wal-Mart under construction as well as parking lot that was undergoing expansion. All the available spots were filled with cars. We circled and went to the adjacent Sears parking lot where two other fellow travelers had parked for the night. I dozed while Onie warmed up artichoke hearts and turkey/pork wieners on low carb bread. We added Sam Walton’s best hotdog relish and some chopped Vidalia onions to finish our sumptuous repast. Well fed but not overfed we toddled off to bed at 10pm. The sun was still high.

June 10, 2003-W to W

We woke to the sound of our neighbor’s generator running, undoubtedly to brew coffee. Ours is one of a few coaches on the road where coffee isn’t required to get the driver to his seat. After a brief breakfast we wound our way out of the labarynthian parking lot and onto an unfamiliar street. This led to an impromptu tour of some of the subdivisions of Winnipeg. Several times we could see our freeway but couldn’t quite get to it. Finally we retraced our steps to where we had come out on the road this morning and went further on to find the road we came in on last evening.

The navigator got us back to 100 and then to Canada One and then back to The Yellowhead Trail, Canada 16 near Portage la Prairie. Soon the rolling treed hills gave way to rolling prairie. Ag operations of gargantuan proportions occupied the landscape and before long the biggest stack of hay I’ve ever seen came into view. These bales were not the kind you snatch and throw onto the bed of a pickup or trailer. These bales were the size of a standard half-ton pickup, and there were thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands. They covered several plots of land the size of football fields and were stacked three or four stories high. I scanned the horizon. Not a cow was in sight. I don’t think there was any room for cows here as they are too busy growing hay. In the middle of this prairie I saw what looked like a gray fox crossing the road but as we bore down on it I realized it was a gray coyote. She was hunkered down and slinking across the hiway. I followed her gaze and found her mate waiting in a freshly sprouted field. When she cleared the roadway she stretched her legs and at once was a full ground coyote. At an easy lope she followed her mate as he led them toward the horizon.

Geese, too high to hear, flew north in an ever-changing pattern as they battled the stiff head wind. Below them their kindred waterfowl nested, fed and frolicked in the many prairie potholes. Mallards were a dime a dozen, pintails were thick as flies, blue bills were as plentiful as ticks on a hound and teal buzzed around like so many bees. It was enough to give any duck hunter or wannabe duck hunter, goose bumps. Speaking of geese, there was even a pair of Canadas nesting on a pond along with a pair of redheads. Oh-did I mention the wood ducks? Nests had been erected in many of the ponds for this particular duck. I have hunted ducks many years in Texas and never seen a wood duck. Here there are hundreds and to those of you who don’t know, this is a truly beautiful duck shaming even the iridescent mallard drake and the colorful redhead.

Seeing all these ducks had my head swimming but what happened next almost put me in a comma. Onie asked my to pull over. She wanted to drive. I did. She did, well!

After a little refresher on the dash controls Onie herded the Marlin out onto the two-lane road and ran up to about 55 or 60 and held it there pretty steady for the next two hours. Occasionally the speedo ran up to 65 when we were on a down hill drag but for the most part she kept it steady and between the lines. In case you think that is easy remember the coach is 37 feet long and weighs 13 tons, the hitch is about four feet long and the toad is around 12 feet and weighs close to two tons. Think about it, 53 feet long, 15 tons, 60 miles an hour on a two-lane road meeting eighteen-wheelers with a fifteen mile an hour cross wind. She did grand. Mom would have been so proud of her.

While she was filling her new job, relief driver, I took a chance to look around some more. Ten minutes after she started her hundred-mile relief I looked about and saw a sight to warm any heart but especially the heart of a duck hunter. Just south of the road two pair of cinnamon teal were approaching a pothole. They flared their wings and dropped their landing gear before sliding to a halt on the mirror slick water. If I had been driving I would have missed the complete show. I was up and down, in and out of my chair. I really enjoyed the ride but soon Onie was ready to resume her regular job and I got mine back, driving.

The last 100 miles into Saskatoon went by swiftly as I was now refreshed. Today we had covered 580 miles together, mostly at 100kph. The AAA map says the drive time is 8 hours. They lied. It had taken us 10 hours and we had only stopped three times, twice to change drivers and once for bladder relief.

We ended up back where we started, in a Wal-Mart parking lot. We went in and spent 41 dollars Canadian and I spent 8 dollars US on 3 liters of black Bing cherries. While I pecked Onie prepared dinner, which was soon gone. Again I turned in before Onie. She stayed up to read a novel that Gonzalo Santana, a friend of ours, had given her the day before we left. When I closed my eyes at 10pm the sun was still at 8 o’clock on the horizon. Onie told me later she came to bed about 10:30 and it was still daylight.

Saskatchewan is the only Canadian province that doesn’t go on daylight savings time. They don’t need to.

June 11, 2003-A cretin, Aborigines, Dugouts, Taxes, Quebec, poetry?

Wal-Mart was still our home when we woke. Figuring out what time it was turned into a chore. Our clocks said 7am but the service station that was just out our window wasn’t open and the streets were deserted. The guy at the station told me last night he opens at 7 so I was counting on that to know what time it was. The streets were deserted even though the sun was already well above the horizon. Of course last night when our clock read 10:30 you would have thought is was 6:30 from the street scene. We lay back down for a while and then I got up and made coffee and tea. A sip of tea gave me an inspiration, turn on the radio to a morning show and they might give the time. Sure enough in a few minutes they told me it was 7:18. None of our clocks had that time. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be concerned but this morning we were going in to have the Generac Diesel powered generator serviced. This provides us with 110 electricity when we aren’t hooked up.

We also needed fuel which we would get at the adjacent station for 65.9 per litre, the cheapest in town. If you want to figure the coast per gallon there is 3.84 litres per U.S. gallon and the exchange rate today was 1.37 US to 1.00 Canadian. After we fueled Onie did the math and we averaged over 10 mile per gallon.

Now it was off to Mini-Tune Mobile for Generac service. The fella told us to be there at 7:30 but we arrived at 8. He looked over the coach, looked at the generator case, you can see anything until you remove the cover, and then we went in and did the paper work. It was 8:30. He invited me to have cup of coffee and said Brian would get right on it when he came in, at 9. I was pretty speechless but glad I hadn’t been there at 7:30 as directed. Mini-Tune sells all kinds of small gas, electric and diesel power tools so I wandered around looking at cool snow blowers, wonderful wood splitters, grand grass mowers, healthy hedge trimmers and tough tillers. Brian came in at nine on the dot. He introduced himself and we went out to start the service work.

When he got the cover off he crouched there looking at the engine. He shook his head and then began to poke around with his finger wiping a little dust off here and there and reading part numbers. After he had written these down he turned to me and said that this is the same engine that Chevrolet puts in their Sprint up here, a three cylinder fuel injected Shirbaura diesel and he bet he could unbolt it and drop it right under the hood, unmodified, mounting brackets and all. He told me it was probably going to be a problem getting the parts but he would check. After a few phone calls to local merchants he told me there were lots of parts available, in Michigan, and shipping time would be seven to ten days. It seems that with the US on orange alert all outbound or inbound shipments are being delayed. He opined that part of the delay may be attributable to politics but the short story was he couldn’t change the oil, replace the filter, air filter and fuel filter. He inquired as to our direction of travel and then made calls to major cities on our intended route. Nobody had any parts and it would take seven to ten days to get them. Finally we tried Fairbanks. A service shop there said they didn’t have the parts but could get them before our arrival in a week or so. I will call them as soon as we get to Tok and make an appointment. I will also buy the parts and carry them from now on AND I will get me a service manual as the one provided when we bought the coach is for a gasoline engine, go figure. Pay well over a $100,000 for a piece of equipment and they can’t even get the right service manual in it. America-is it a great country or what?

While Brian put the cover back on the machinery he and I visited about him and his family, then his business and then his marketing on the web of various different items. He sells and ships all over the world. I didn’t take the bait but told him I thought that was great and wished him loads of success.

Elaina, one of the owners, had asked earlier if she could have a look in the coach. After they had refused payment of any kind for all their efforts, they wouldn’t even let me pay for the long distance calls they had made, there was no way to refuse her.

She came on board and looked, and oohed and ahhed and then told us she was happy for us to be traveling in such style. She has lost both her parents in the last three years and I think she was identifying with us. They were close to our age. Her in-laws are no goodniks who are self-centered and won’t drive across town to see her son play baseball. She saw the pictures of the grandkids and wanted to know all about them and the ones whose pictures haven’t yet made it up.

I mentioned that I knew they had just incorporated their business within the last twelve months and she said yes she had wanted to do it long ago but her husband, Keith, is an ostrich and felt if he ignored the tax implications they would go away. Last year they really got walloped and that did the trick. It was a big hassle but she is glad it got done. She was so appreciative of our understanding about Canada’s cretin, Chretien. She and every other Canadian I have talked with so far view him as a big liability and embarrassment. He has already resigned but refuses to step down for another eighteen months and she is so concerned there will be no Canadian economy or American friends left when he finally goes that it will be a long time bringing either or both of them back. She then begins telling us about the aborigine problem in Canada. They pay no tax, of any kind, are entitled to all the welfare programs, have new homes built for them by the government, get jobs, if they want them, based on ethnicity and are paid for every child they beget. Right now in Saskatchewan they are approaching 50% of the population (total population, one million) and that is critical because in addition to everything else they get to vote and do. Once they become the majority the top tax bracket of 50% will escalate.

As if that wasn’t enough of a problem the province is in a drought and people have began pumping out others dugouts. For those of you unfamiliar with the lingo spoken north of the border here is a translation: someone went to his neighbor’s pond and pumped it dry because the thief was short on water. This has never been a problem before, stealing from one’s neighbors and she is fearful of what will come next.

Then there is the thorny problem of Quebec and the government there. They are taxing everyone to death and are still not happy. She would be really glad to just see them secede and starve in the cold.

Well-this is a synopsis of what she had to say and I certainly don’t want to give her short shrift here but do need to move on so please understand she had a lot to say I just can’t report it all here. You should know however that all in all she was a very pleasant hard-working woman who was happy with her lot in life.

As she was taking her leave to return to her job she told us she lives in the country and when we come back to come by the shop. She will be happy to have us come stay at her place as long as we like.

We were sorry to leave with such good newfound friends waving to us from the sidewalk but we had to move on. It was half an hour past noon and I had driven 3.2 miles so far today.

Taking the most direct route to the hiway we entered the flow of traffic north. We saw more scenery and wildlife but I’m speechless by now so here’s the deal. We motored on to Edmonton where we took a rock in our windshield right in the middle of town and then continued on to Whitecourt and Sagitawah RV Park. We stayed there on our return trip in ’01. Onie remembered it was a nice resting place and it was. When I shut of the Cummins we had added another 463 miles to the odometer.

We were both tired so we decided on nuked pizza for supper. I pecked awhile while Onie played spider solitaire. She is getting real good.

When the pecking and playing came to an end we both showered before crawling into bed.

Ma and her kerchief and I and my cap

Had just settled down for a long summer’s nap

When out in the woods there arose such a clatter

I wondered what in the world could be the matter.

Then to my ears, finely attuned,

Came such a noise, an undying tune.

T’was unmuffled four wheelers racing to and fro

While sleep from our eyes had surely flown.

Now a prayer came to lips as my soul cried for rest,

Dear Lord if it be they will let will let those noises desist.

As I turned on my side what did I hear

But a gurgling noise from that pesky machine.

My prayer had been answered as the machine

Found a water filled ravine.

Now Lord hear my thanks

For it is after 11 and my body has tanked.

Amen.

June 12, 2003-Northward Ho!

I thought it was cold when I went out to unhook this morning. That just goes to show you what thinking will do for you. It was 64 and that would be the high for the day. No sun could shine through the heavy clouds and it looked as though rain could begin falling at any moment.

We pulled back onto 43 northbound as the clock struck eleven. The road surface remained good and we maintained our place in the flow of traffic up the hills, around the curves, down through the valleys and over the creeks and rivers past the crops and trees. The large trees of the southern climes had left long ago and now there are the spindly firs and birches that look like a good hurricane would topple them right over. The mist found us soon after we left the RV park and that soon turned to drizzle. As the odometer registered our northward trek the rain tempo increased and the temperature dropped. By the time we stopped in Fort St John the temp had fallen to 44. Yep, that was 20 degrees in five hours.

After our fuel stop in Ft St John we carried on north where we saw some white tailed deer, a gray fox and our first moose of the trip, a cow.

We also had another first. We drove on a part of the original Alaskan Hiway. In fact the asphalt we drove on may have been original, what there was of it. This part of the old hiway forms a loop, off the present hiway, seventeen miles north of Dawson Creek where the hiway starts. One of the reasons this part of the hiway was retained is that it contains a unique curved wooden bridge 521 feet long, the only original wooden span still standing, that spans the Kiskatinaw River. In case some of you worriers are wondering I checked the load limit before crossing, it is 25 tons. Think about it. This hiway was originally built, in eight months and twelve days, to allow the army to take supplies overland to Alaska, after the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor. The route connected existing airfields and followed existing winter roads, old Indian trails, rivers and on occasional “sight” engineering. Over 10,000 US troops worked from March 9, 1942 until October 25, 1942 to accomplish the feat. Do you think they would have built a road that wouldn’t hold up Pawpaw and Onie’s motor home sixty years later? Oh--the other reason they kept this part of the road open, folks live out there.

At 7:30 we turned into the Pink Mountain (I swear that is the name) RV Park. The rain was still falling and the thermometer now read 40 and the odometer registered 414 miles for the day.

When I checked in I asked the well-fed redhead that took my money when the rain would stop. She allowed as how it had just started a couple of hours ago, before that it had been snow.

It took me about fifteen minutes to hookup and during that time my hands turned to ice in the falling rain which by now had snow mixed in it.

Inside Onie had a gumbo going. Soon it was piping hot and I was shoveling it in trying to warm up from the inside out. After dinner we worked a crossword and then I pecked while she did the dishes. When she finished she began her solitaire game as I labored away over the keyboard. It is now ten thirty, our new time, twelve thirty our old time and the rain has returned, this time mixed with sleet. I will be wearing my sleeping shirt and cap tonight. Stay tuned for a weather update on the morning report. See surprise photos of our campsite, in week four.

Our Route for Week Three:

From Wisconsin Dells, WI – North on Hwy 13 to Glidden, WI; East on Hwy 77 to Mindon, WI; North on Hwy 53 to International Falls, MN; Cross into Canada; West on Hwy. 11; North on Hwy 71 to Kenora, Ontario; West on Hwy 1 to Portage la Prairie; West on Hwy 16 past Edmonton, Alberta; Northwest on Hwy 43 to Dawson Creek, British Columbia; North on Alaska Hwy 97 to Pink Mountain, British Columbia (100 miles north of Fort St. John)