September 5, 2007

We slept until eight hoping the Anchorage traffic would be less when we left. A light rain had been falling at seven when we turned on the electric heater but by eight it had stopped. The temperature hadn’t budged though still sitting at forty eight.

Parked by Sonny and Birdie at Moose Lodge in Anchorage

A quick breakfast of coffee, tea, sausage and grits got us ready to travel.

Before heading outside to put the cover back on and hookup the Subaru we took our blood pressure. Onie’s had been up since her spill but it was back down again very nicely, thank you, and mine was just normal. Before the doors were closed on the toad Onie cleaned out the accumulated detritus.

With the Forester ready to travel we returned to the coach where Onie cranked the engine, pulled in the slides and got us of the jacks while outside the power was disconnected and the walk around completed.

Out of our spot we stopped in the parking lot to connect to the toad.

At nine fifty we eased back onto Artic Avenue and headed for Freddies, near the Glenn Highway, where we stopped for fuel. Seventy gallons later we were back on the road and headed out of town, north. We have to go north before we can head south. As we waited at traffic lights getting out of town Onie figured our mileage for the last tank of fuel, ten miles per gallon.

The Glenn Highway is a good highway near Anchorage, and needs to be as it carries a lot of local traffic. The further away one gets from Anchorage the further one gets from good quality roads.

By the time one gets to Glenallen the road has deteriorated to the point that it can be called bad, poor, neglected, in need of attention, horrible, rough, you name it.

To add to the day’s adventure rain fell along the way making a mess of the construction areas. One can only imagine what the mud must be doing to the radiator as the back wheels kick it up and the fan throws it against the fins. It can’t be good or pretty.

Close to the Matanuska River and glacier we encountered our first pilot car of the trip. The road here is probably part of the original work and is very hilly with many tortuous turns. When one sees the path the new road will take it is obvious that it will be a drastic improvement when it is finished, in the next century. It may take that long as the crews are literally moving mountains.

At the junction with the Tok Cutoff we stopped to get Onie a latte. While we waited she made us some wraps for lunch and me a chai tea. It was all great.

In fifteen minutes we were on the road again, headed for Tok. Everything we have said about the Glen Highway can be said, in spades, about parts of the Tok Cutoff. In fact one could say it about almost all of the Tok Cutoff. In many places thirty or thirty five miles an hour is too fast for comfort or safety.

The driver had to keep a sharp eye out for places in the road that were particularly bad so his attention could not be given over to watching for animals but the co-pilot could and did. No animals were spotted but rain seemed to be our constant companion. A bonus to the rain was the double and triple rainbows we saw and the colors were among the most vivid we have ever seen.

The farther north we went the colder it got. At mile marker fifty the rain turned to sleet for a brief spell.

Our perseverance was rewarded and the last ten miles into Tok the road is as good as you will find anywhere.

A mile before the junction with the Fairbanks highway we pulled into the Sourdough Campground at five fifteen. We had come three hundred miles over some roads that are unbelievably bad.

Sonny and Birdie had left the Moose lodge at seven and had arrived here at four. Duaine and Bonnie had pulled in at four thirty.

We parked next to them, said our hellos and went back to hookup.

We agreed to meet at six thirty for a supper of reindeer chili in sour dough buns. Over our meal we discussed how different a road can feel in a car and a motor home. Roads that seem almost glassy smooth in a car can be dangerously rough in a coach with the long wheel base. We also talked about where we hope to be this time tomorrow.

We were back in the Marlin at eight. It was too cold to stay outside and visit. We played two games of dominoes and I finished just ahead of Onie both times.

The games went fast and by nine she was settled in with her book. The laptop had my attention.

Under overcast skies and with the temperature sitting at forty three we got ready for bed at eleven.

Sleep didn’t come for me as I lay worrying about how hard it is to roll up a water hose full of ice. At eleven thirty the writer went outside to be sure he didn’t have to do that in the morning. The water hose was disconnected, drained and stored before he went back in to the warmth of the coach and bed.

The hose wouldn’t be frozen in the morning but the writer was frozen tonight.

September 6, 2007

It was freezing, literally, when the writer rose at eight. The clear skies and northern clime had contributed to the thirty two degrees that greeted me. The appropriate response would be to turn on the heaters. I did.

A glance out the window told me that Sonny and Birdie had flown earlier. Duaine and Bonnie are still here, with Duaine out walking Cody and Tigger. When he finished walking the animals he cleaned the windshield and front windows before unhooking his shore lines and pulling out.

The coffee and tea were made while the coach warmed up. Since One had a bout with her nose last night she slept while the heater chased the morning chill from the air then she rose for coffee.

She brought me a cup of steaming tea while I sat with my laptop making these notes about the start of our day.

With her coffee cup at her side Onie began making biscuits. It seems like it has been a long time since we have had biscuits and she thinks they will be good on a cold morning. They are good any morning. While the biscuits baked she fried us an egg, cut a tomato, warmed some sausage and put some figs on the table. When the biscuits came steaming from the oven we had our feast.

While she cleaned the kitchen the writer went out and disconnected the power cord and stored it. The tires were checked for good air pressure and then a partially frozen writer went back inside. Onie had the slides in so all that was left was to pick up the jacks and crank the Cummins but first the block heater turned on. Ten minutes later when the Cummins fired it was without the customary black smoke from a cold engine.

We pulled out of our space at ten after ten and headed for the junction of the Tok Cutoff and the Fairbanks Highway where we turned right, towards the border and Canada, ninety miles away.

As soon as one heads out of Tok headed for the border the road conditions begin to deteriorate and the closer one gets to the border the worse they become. By the time we reached Canada our speed was down to about thirty miles an hour. In Canada it dropped even more. We had two hundred ninety eight miles to log when we rolled out of park, When we arrived at Canadian Customs we had logged one hundred ten miles in just under three hours. True, we had stopped for fuel but even so it looked like a long day shaping up for us.

Customs is usually a perfunctory thing for us as we don’t try to carry bombs in our turbans and we have made the crossing man times in the last six years. Today was no different once we got to the Customs Officer. It was getting there that took the time. She was doing an extended search or interrogation of someone in front of us. We shut off the engine and waited the fifteen or twenty minutes until she waved us up to her, checked our passports and wished us a safe journey. We wanted to tell her that good roads contribute to safe journeys but thought better of it.

In gear and moving again we began the tortuous process of negotiating the next hundred fifty miles. It was slow going with all the frost heaves, loose gravel, pavement breaks and just plain rough road. We rode with the cruise set on thirty five and increased that manually, when we could. Sun shone on us, rain fell, temperatures soared, up and down, rainbows, some double, came and went, miles of up hill pulls and down hill grades passed and through it all we continued on to Kluane Lake and the construction there. Here we pause again, for fifteen minutes, while a dynamite charge was detonated. The road is being realigned and widened. When the project is finished it will have taken a few more hairpin blind curves and hills out of the Al-Can highway and a little more of the adventure. Some day one will be able to drive from the lower forty eight to Alaska on wide modern roads, maybe even freeways, and wonder what was adventuresome about the trip back in two thousand or earlier.

After we rounded the south end of the lake the road improved dramatically and so did our speed. The last fifty miles flew by and the last seven mile down grade took us into Haines Junction and the Kluane RV Park at six oh five local time, five oh five Alaska time. We lost an hour at the Canadian border.

We were remembered from our trip up as well as the other times we have stayed here so check in was quick and easy. In addition Sonny and Duaine had already checked in and told the lady we were coming.

Hooked up, leveled and slides out Onie began preparing a salad while I checked in with the others and told them about a full grown grizzly that was roaming in the trees that fringe the camp. Anyone walking should be extra careful.

Back at the coach Onie and I enjoyed a wonderful salad while a pot of soup cooked on the stove.

With supper cooking Onie worked on getting another week ready to post to the web. We do have a hot spot here even if the signal is weak and intermittent. Perhaps she can get the week completed and posted before we leave in the morning. Yours truly was busy writing this account of the day as well as working on days past.

We paused for soup. It was wonderful. Onie had started with true wild rice that Kurt had given us, when he left, and added several vegetables and some spices and seasonings known only to her. We each had a bowl but could have eaten the whole pot full had we wanted our pots to expand.

Back at the laptops we whiled away our evening doing things that we hope will entertain, amuse, inform and perhaps even please our readers, friends and families.

At last we stopped for showers before toddling off to bed.

It had been a long day

September 7, 2007

If it is thirty at two it must be freezing.

By eight it had warmed up to thirty three and Onie sat at her laptop working on week fourteen to post, hopefully before we leave.

It is nice to be able to shower in the comfort and convenience of your own home and this morning we did just that.

After long showers our breakfast of an egg, biscuits and bacon tasted really good. By the time breakfast was over, ten, it was partly cloudy and forty.

Onie had week fourteen ready to send to the WWW and she did just that. It was the last thing we did before we disconnected and headed for the road at eleven.

Right in town the road turns to the left and being averse to spending the winter in the Yukon we followed it.

The Yukon!

Doesn’t just the name conjure up images of mountain men, miners, trappers, explorers, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Sergeant Preston and his faithful dog King? Why of course you remember Sergeant Preston and King. They came on every Friday night about seven o’clock, on the radio, back in the early fifties. My good friend Joseph Hermie Hathaway, III, and I used to lie in bed, malted milk, with raw egg, in hand and listen to his and King’s daring exploits as they chased bad men across the Yukon.

See, J.H., as he was known then, and I were best buddies. We were in the fifth grade together and even thought perhaps we could help Sergeant Preston if we were there so we saved our money to buy horses to ride to Canada and his aid. Of course we took canned goods from our pantries at home and stored them in our school lockers against the day we would have enough money to actually make the trip. Unfortunately the school year ended before we got our horses so we had to take the canned goods back home. But we were talking about Sergeant Preston and King. We listened every Friday night to this program. There was no TV so our imaginations weren’t hampered by what we saw on the screen. What we saw was in the imagination of our young minds. We saw raw wilderness and endless ice.

We saw a bearded, dangerous Dan McGrew and many more of his ilk as they broke the code of law in the Yukon and Northwest Territory and we ran behind King, next to the good Sergeant, as he pursued these bad men until they were in his grasp, captured and brought to justice, every Friday night and in just thirty minutes. Oh it was a wonderful time to be alive and the Yukon beckoned then as it still does today. But we are traveling the Yukon now and it isn’t frozen, yet, and there isn’t any dangerous Dan McGrew or Sergeant Preston. King is pulling sleds and chasing bad men wherever the dogs of radio land went when TV stole the stories and imaginations of young minds. The road stretches out in front of us leading us further south and a little east. Most of the road is good but there are some parts that are truly atrocious.

The same weather that plagued King and Sergeant Preston make us constantly adjust the air controls in the coach. In some places the heater is called for and a little way down the road we need the fans, to cool us.

Rain comes and the sun shines.

Hot tea comforts the driver and coffee the navigator.

At Teslin Lake Bridge we stopped for a bite of watermelon, smoked fish and chai tea.

Although the good Sgt. would have seen moose and timber wolves--we would have heard them howling--we had seen no animals today.

We pressed on to the Continental divide where we intended to spend the night but the campground there was closed. We back tracked mile or two and boon docked on a gravel pit with Sonny and Birdie and Duaine and Bonnie. They too had meant to spend the night at the campground but had wound up in the gravel pit along with a few other rigs.

A beautiful spot to park. Who needs hookups?

After setting up we went to visit with Sonny and Birdie at five thirty. We had already talked to Duaine. The visit lasted until seven when we went home to soup and salad.

With the generator running, for an hour, to keep the freezer cold, some notes were made.

By nine the freezer was cold as were we. It was forty six outside and cooling off inside. We opted for bed.

September 8, 2007

We had slept near the continental divide which meant we were at a relatively high altitude and the cold temperatures that brings. At six it was twenty six and I was glad I didn’t have out a water hose. When we rose at eight to stay up it was thirty one and mostly clear with some sun.

The back heater had been started at seven and the thermostat set on sixty five. That felt very warm to us when we fired the front heater and set it on sixty five, also. We had heard Sonny and Birdie leave at seven thirty and now we were in the process of leaving, ourselves, but first we had to feed our faces.

The coffee and tea were made and poured and a few notes made while the generator was running. Steaming sausage and oatmeal graced our table at eight thirty.

When we had finished eating at nine the outside temp had risen to thirty five, a nice environment to be out in when you are from south Texas. Nevertheless the writer ventured out under the overcast skies to check the tires, doors, hitch and other running gear, a daily chore.

Partly frozen and partly warm the scribbler slipped behind the wheel at nine thirty and put us on the road. It was now thirty six.

The morning drive was made up of lots of long climbs and steep grades. The going was slow but the animal viewing was slower as none were seen. In fact we haven’t seen an animal in four days but today may be the day.

The sun never gives up on its job of warming us and lighting our way. Today it broke through from time to time making pretty shadows in the trees and on the road. At other times sprinkles dimpled in the passing ponds and streams.

Watson Lake was attained and boasted the most expensive fuel we had seen so far, a dollar twenty plus per liter. That is well over four dollars a gallon U.S. even after the conversion is made.

Further south we finally saw some animals, four horses grazing in the right of way. The Liard River was seen on our right and would accompany us for many miles.

At a place that advertised itsself as having the cheapest fuel around we stopped and bought a hundred forty liters at one ten per liter. We hoped that would get us to Ft. St. John and the Safeway where we knew fuel would be less.

Now we got back on the road with the idea that our next stop would be Liard Hot Springs where we could soak our aches and pains away.

Buying the fuel must have brought us a change in luck as a little way down the road we saw a few bison, now and then. Farther on we saw a small herd of thirty to forty that caused us to make one more stop. They were standing in the road.

Moving again we went on to Liard Hot Springs Lodge where we stopped for a serving of poutine before checking into the park at three thirty.

We napped until six when we got up and put on our suits and headed for the hot sulfur springs where we soaked enjoying the warmth and the contrasting few cool sprinkles that fell on our heads.

By seven thirty we were back in the coach. It was sixty and promised to be a warm night.

We ran the generator an hour to cool the freezer. While Onie prepared supper a few sentences were put in the laptop.

Our salad used the last of Frank’s red tip lettuce. His nine pound cabbage contributed to the cabbage soup with tomato and ground venison finishing it off.

With darkness surrounding us we went to bed at nine.

September 9, 2007

We have found a little warmer clime and it was fifty four at three this morning.

When we rose at eight thirty it was warm and overcast.

Onie made the coffee and tea along with bacon and skillet toast, for breakfast.

At nine thirty the writer set off for the hot springs to soak again. He was back at ten thirty and eleven found him behind the wheel and on the road again.

A hundred yards down the road a lone bison bull grazed in the ditch. Just past him was a sign announcing more construction? One of these days we will have a day when there is no construction on the road but today won’t be the day. Just before the long down grade to the Liard River Bridge two more bull bison were seen grazing, next to the road.

Parts of the Liard River Bridge were under wraps. The purpose was two fold. The first was to keep overspray off the vehicles crossing the bridge as the painting was taking place and second and just as important the wraps were there to keep the workmen warm.

On the south side of the bridge we began a long upgrade pull that would be the first of many. Some are six percent grades but some are eight and nine percent and can be as long as seven miles. There were no more bison on the uphill pull or anytime after that. It may be the river is too deep or too swift for them to cross or perhaps both.

The warmer weather meant that by two it was up to seventy and without ambient air temps in the fifties and sixties the Cummins began to overheat. In all likelihood the radiator was clogged from the construction debris around Kluane Lake. We have had that experience before and the symptoms sure seem similar if not identical

Out here there is no place to pull into and get a quick fix so we had to limp along in second, third and fourth gears, keeping the revs up and the fan spinning a bit faster than normal. On the long steep uphill grades it was first gear all the way, grinding it out at five to ten miles an hour. It was for sure we were burning more fuel than we would have had the radiator not been fouled but it could not be helped.

The familiar environs of Summit Lake was attained at last and here we found the ever present mountain goats. Memory may not serve correctly but it seems we have always seen mountain goats in this general area, every trip, bank on it.

Caribou haven’t been seen here, by us, except for last year, and now again this year. Many were seen near or on the road.

Even with the inspiration of seeing the goats and caribou we still had to limp along.

The Country Gospel music we had listened to all day helped us keep the right perspective on our situation and enjoy the slow moving scenery. Patience and prudence paid off and we finally arrived in Watson Lake at a quarter of four.

We located a car wash and under Onie’s direction managed to squeeze the Marlin into the stall. It was plenty tall but on entry we probably had less than an inch to spare on either side. Once in it was roomier. The radiator access door was opened and presoak was applied and allowed to sit for a few minutes before the high pressure soap was applied and then later the rinse. Whether it worked or not we would know when we drove awhile.

Riding along, going out of town, headed south, at four thirty it seemed that we had corrected the problem as the temperature seemed to be staying down. Then again the sun was sinking and the air was cooling off. We may have to wait until tomorrow o get a true test of our efforts.

When we went back on the road at four thirty we had logged two hundred miles. Not content with that we pressed on southward.

Our fuel gauge, in conjunction with our trip odometer, told us we were getting low on fuel. Many paces we passed advertised diesel but on a closer look they had up signs indicating they were out of fuel. Feeling a bit anxious about the situation we soldiered on to Pink Mountain. They sell diesel and they had some. We bought a hundred forty liters.

We were ready to stop but no full hookups or pull thrus were available so we drove on to a pull out where we stopped at seven thirty. We had managed three hundred sixteen hard miles.

The lady at Pink Mountain says it has been cold nights and might even snow. We know if it does it will be a dusting and not enough to inhibit our travel.

We ran the generator for an hour and the scribbler made notes and Onie read.

Sandwiches were on the menu for supper.

Afterwards I worked crosswords while Onie read some more.

We went to bed at eleven. No sooner had we lay down than a truck pulled in behind us, left his motor running next to our bedroom, and stayed there most of the night. Sleep was fitful at best.

September 10, 2007

We gave up trying to sleep, at eight. It was fifty three and mostly cloudy but the sun did peek through now and again.

When we had pulled into the turnout there had been almost no traffic but is seems that once we were parked someone opened the gates and the traffic roared by all night. In addition the trucker was there as mentioned, yesterday.

Coffee and tea went well with the Cheerios and banana this morning and due to the abbreviated breakfast preparations we were traveling again by nine.

Now the true test of our cleaning attempt on the radiator was taking place. We were still making long steep pulls and while the engine wasn’t shutting down, as it had done twice yesterday, the temperature gauge kept climbing out of the normal range on the long pulls. What ever we had accomplished didn’t seem to be enough and we still had Peace River to negotiate. Southbound there is a four mile climb from the bridge and it is a full ten percent the whole way. At the end of the ten percent grade is another four miles of six to eight percent. Since we were running above normal now we felt certain that Peace River would be a real trial unless the problem was corrected.

The welcome sight of Ft St John came into view at eleven. On the north edge of town we pulled into the Freightliner dealer. We have been here before for the same reason. In all likelihood we are still in the computer which means we still exist.

The young lady service writer called the shop foreman who opined as it would be tonight before he could have anyone look at an overheating problem. After hearing that it wasn’t the thermostat or water pump he agreed to have a look. At the coach he crawled under the back and with the aid of our flashlight got a look at the radiator. His diagnosis of the over heating problem; one completely clogged radiator. We had done a good job washing the outside but our efforts had failed to clean the inside. He told us that another shift of mechanics would be arriving at noon and he would put one of them on the job of steam cleaning it. In the meantime we should put the coach in the back storage yard and leave the keys in it. We unhooked the Subaru, removed the cover, parked it and put the Marlin in the storage lot to await the mechanic’s attention.

With the overheating problem all but solved we set off for Safeway to but some fresh produce and indulge in a latte and chai tea. While we were there we checked on the fuel discount if we used our Safeway rewards card. We would get seven cents a liter, twenty eight cents a gallon, off the posted price. That was the same as we had gotten on the way up. Onie figures we won’t have to buy any more fuel until we are in Montana.

We weren’t starved and even if we missed a few meals we still wouldn’t be in any danger of starvation but it was lunch time and we were hungry so we got a Panini Rueben, to share. It sure was good.

Back in the storage yard the Marlin sat untouched. We parked next to her and unloaded our groceries. While we were still putting them away the shop foreman came and asked us to back the coach into a bay where the radiator could be steam cleaned.

We stopped what we were doing and Onie directed the driver into the bay before she went back to storing the purchases.

A young man, probably a mechanic in training, started the process of steaming the radiator. I doubt if it was the first one he had cleaned but it might have been the second or third. That really isn’t a problem as this isn’t brain surgery. All one has to do is direct a wand, delivering high pressure steam, onto the back surface of the radiator. It is moved slowly back and forth to dislodge the accumulated muck on the inside of the radiator. The only things required are the steam wand and patience. Half an hour later we paused to check our progress. I had been talking to him and had also removed the radiator overflow bottle which obstructed part of his view of the radiator. He seemed to think the job was complete. He took a small flashlight and peered into the radiator fins. Answering a question as to what he saw he replied, not much. One needs to be able to see clearly thru the fins to be sure the cleaning job is complete. A little more steam was applied. This time he got a creeper and slipped under the coach and poked his head up next to the big block of the Cummins so he could see the radiator from the inside. When the light was shone through the fins he said he saw it clearly and said the radiator was clean. He came out from under the coach and began putting the creeper and wand away. On close questioning he assured me that the radiator was clean. Reminding him we were heading south and would engage the Peace River grade just seven miles out of town and it would be easy to come back if we overheated he was given one more chance to be sure the job was well done. He grinned and told me he would ses me next year on our way out. He was confident he had done a good job.

Inside at the service desk the bill, ninety three point sixty six, was paid and thanks tendered to the shop manager and the service writers.

With the coach out of the bay Onie and I got out to hook up the toad. Now if you recall it was mentioned that the shop is on the north side of town. It is actually in town. As yours truly bent to connect the toad Onie called my attention to a mule deer grazing less than a hundred yards from where we stood. Thinking of how low our supply of sausage is we discussed how long a shot it would be and how easy, at that. Onie decided to take the shot and a good shot it was. The zoom was good, the focus proper and the resolution very clear.

Regretfully we had to leave the deer still standing but when we were hooked up we drove on to the Safeway again where we fueled up. After our discount we paid two hundred thirty six dollars and ninety nine cents for seventy one and a half gallons of fuel. That as the cheapest we had gotten off, per gallon, in a long time.

With a clean radiator, a full refrigerator, full tummies, a full fuel tank and a clean windshield we got back on the highway at three thirty. The stop had been restful and fruitful. With the Peace River grade just seven miles ahead we would see if the stop had been a total success.

Starting up the grade, with the river ad bridge behind us, the temperature gauge sat on one eighty five, normal. In case you have never driven a ten percent grade it is quite steep, illegal in most of the U.S. and a test of any machine. Coming down is fun too but that is another story. We started the ascent in top gear, sixth, but it wasn’t long before the Allison dropped into fifth and then fourth before settling on third for a while. Finally second was reached and we continued our climb. The temperature gauge touched two hundred and then settled back down on one ninety, very normal for such a long hard pull. When the four miles had been climbed the Allison began shifting up and by the time we had reached the summit, seven miles up, we were in fifth gear and the temperature was back on one eighty five. We would see the young mechanic trainee next year, indeed.

Breathing easier, for this was the toughest test we would put the coach through on the way home, we relaxed and breathed easy as we coasted along.

The road had improved substantially, being divided in some places, and many deer were seen along the way. The journey easy and relaxing once again.

In Valleyview we turned off the hard top and took a dusty gravel road to Sherk’s RV Park. It was advertised as quiet and restful. It looked to be both. When we checked we think it was seven thirty, but we are not sure. We feel we lost another hour when we entered Alberta.

Our site for the night was a good pull thru with full hookups. Once situated, we indulged, once again, in long showers.

Onie sat out at our picnic table for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet before starting supper. This was such a welcome change from last night and one we would both enjoy, all night long.

Two games were played and then the typing began.

When Onie came in it was almost dark, ten til nine, and turning chilly.

Not long after supper we both lay down to bask in the silence and then the sleep.

September 11, 2007

It has been six years since the world was changed by terrorists who want to end life as we know it. Some of them are still among us and many are in foreign lands plotting to harm us, kill us, destroy our society and end western civilization. That is the good news. The bad news is they have unwitting dupes in our government who do everything they can to weaken us here at home as well as abroad. They do it in the name of humanitarianism, freedom of religion, freedom of speech but mostly for political gain. Our soldiers and our citizens have never lost a war but our politicians have, and left on their own, many would lose this war for us as well as our freedoms. God help us if they succeed.

We started our morning here in Sherk’s RV Park in Valleyview, Alberta, Canada much the same as every other morning. We had our coffee and tea followed by an egg, sausage, biscuits and home made preserves.

Outside the sky threatened rain and a local told me it was coming our way and coming soon. Overhead flocks of geese winged their way south, squawking and calling to one another. It was as if they were saying, close up the ranks, help that straggler, you take the lead as I am tiring, come on, winter is coming. Most of this was taking place in the low hanging clouds so one could only listen, but before long a low flying flock was overhead. As I looked up the lead bird changed, he was tired, and a couple of geese did position themselves on either side of a straggler, to help him along. Where the flock would be this time tomorrow morning was anybodies guess as they will fly all day and all night, perhaps not resting until they reach their winter homes on the Gulf Coast.

Yesterday we lost the rubber holders that secure the hooks for our safety cables. Under the ominous sky new ones were cut and fit. Back inside several screws in and around the dash were retightened or in one case screwed completely back in. The shakes, rolls and vibrations of the last few days and several hundred miles had shaken them loose. Another dash was made outside to remove the several hundred dead bodies accumulated on the windshield. They are, or were, bugs that will fly no more but whose very presence makes safe driving an iffy proposition. Chores completed the tools and ladder were placed back in their various resting places and then we made ready for the road.

Onie got in the slides and secured the inside while the water, sewer and electric were disconnected.

With the rain coming ever closer the Cummins roared to life and while she warmed the engine the jacks were retracted.

At twenty minutes to twelve we pulled back onto forty three south and joined the traffic streaming that way.

Most of the truly bad roads have been left behind us and we only see the occasional construction site so the cruise is set on fifty nine and we keep pace with most everyone.

The rolling pastures full of horses and cows are sprinkled between the vast wheat fields that are as much a part of Alberta as are her oil and gas fields. Alberta and Texas have much in common including some great people and a tax burden they both think is too heavy.

Small streams pass under the roadway and up and down stream we can see the handiwork of beaver families in the dams and ponds where they have built their lodges. The rivers are too swift and wide for such engineering but they do their own work, cutting away existing banks, making new channels and exposing new gravel bars.

We slow from time to time for small towns for while the road is mostly four lanes divided it is not a freeway, Texas style. It has many crossings at grade and it goes through towns, not around them.

A couple of pullouts were visited as comfort stops were required but overall we continued south and east.

In the afternoon road signs announced we were approaching Edmonton, a sprawling city with traffic to rival any. Onie routed us around it and an hour later we were headed toward Red Deer and the Westerner RV Park. If you have followed our travels and ramblings this year, and in the past, you may remember that we like this park for its cleanliness, quiet and secure setting.

At the time we pulled into the park, six thirty, there were no pull thrus left which means we had to unhook the Subaru if we wanted to stay. We opted to do so and were soon in our site.

Hooked up, leveled up and slides out we settled down for the evening. Onie read and I availed myself of the hotspot to connect to the web and check on mail, the market and the Astros.

Outside thunder was announcing the approach of the rain we had left this morning.

Another good salad and the rest of the cabbage soup fed us supper. Tomorrow we will have a different main dish. The soup is gone.

With the dishes washed Onie retired to the bedroom to read while the laptop absorbed some pounding. Speaking of pounding, the coach and toad were receiving a pounding of their own. The rain had arrived and was washing off accumulated dust and hopefully bugs. Inside it sounded real sweet as it beat on the roof.

Sleep won’t be too hard to come by tonight.