D DAY

June 6, 2007

A note is in order about this special day before beginning our daily entry.  Sixty four years ago today thousands of men, many of them beardless youths poured ashore at Normandy Beach.  Many lost their lives that day and many more were wounded.  The wounded and the other survivors would carry the memory of that landmark event with them the rest of their lives.  Most of the survivors are now gone but it is incumbent upon all Americans to remember, today and everyday, that our freedom was not won with words in the halls of Congress.  It was won and continues to be won on battlefields around the world and on our own turf.  It was and is kept by the selfless sacrifice of our men and women in uniform, at home and abroad.  It was won and is kept by all who faithfully serve as peace officers and guardians of our daily lives.  Those in Congress may barter our freedoms and way of life away if we are not ever on our guard but our military and peace officers will never do that.  Fear the politicians and love your military for they will give their lives for you, if necessary, but the politicians will only give you taxes.

We started this seminal day at the Continental Divide RV Park.  Outside the coach it was forty three and drizzling rain from an overcast sky.

Inside the coffee and tea warmed us, along with our electric heater, while the grits, eggs and sausage cooked.

Onie cleaned the kitchen while I went outside to unhook, in the rain. The strong wind made the rain seem even colder than it actually was.  Looking at the snow lying in clumps under nearby trees didn’t do much to enhance a warm feeling, either.  The fact that it didn’t appear to have melted at all last night sent a little shiver through me.

By ten forty five we were motoring again.  

The jack buzzer alert had been a little nagging problem this trip, more so than usual.  This morning it was acting up again.  We stopped and I crawled underneath the coach, in the cold and rain, to check the jacks.  They were up and clean.  Back in the coach and in gear the buzzer continued its annoying noise.  There seemed to be no stopping it.

We selected some tunes, put them in the CD player, cranked up the sound and low and behold the buzzer beep went away, as long as he music was playing.

The good smooth road made up for the minor annoyance from the buzzer that was drowned out by the music.  While not paying attention to the road I joined Onie in keeping a sharp lookout for our four legged friends.

No friends appeared but the scenery was beautiful.  There were mountains, there were mountains with snow, there were mountains with snow and clouds hovering about them, there was snow in the trees lining the highway, there was bright sunshine and there was the beautiful blue sky, when the rain stopped.

Signs advertising Whitehorse and its merchants appeared announcing its nearness.  Two signs were of particular interest.  They both advertised RV repair.  The jack buzzer was still sounding and it’s raspy voice was beginning to wear on Onie.  While we had been listening to music, watching for animals and enjoying the hum of the Cummins I had tried to analyze the problem of the persistent buzzer.  Somewhere there had to be a sensor that measured the amount of hydraulic fluid in the jack reservoir.  If the hydraulic fluid was low in the reservoir it would not register on the sensor and the buzzer would sound.  We stopped and I found a sensor on the side of the reservoir as well as a place to replenish the fluid.  At the first RV repair place we stopped.

I went in and explained our problem.  The tech, note the singular case, was busy and would be for some time but the counter guy would ask him about the buzz and my possible fix.  The tech agreed this could be a problem but if not it would take ten days to two weeks to get a schematic from Power Gear, the maker of the jack system, so he could determine the problem.  We inquired if they sold fluid for the jack system.  No, they didn’t but the Petro Canada station a few hundred yards back probably did.  We needed ATF 3 fluid.  We drove back and got the fluid.  With Onie pouring and me holding a funnel we topped off the reservoir.  Back in the coach the buzzing had stopped.  We had just saved ourselves a delay plus a hundred dollar shop fee.  The tech had told us he could check the reservoir for us in an hour or so if we had wanted to wait.  The shop charge was one hundred dollars per hour, pretty standard in RV shops, plus the cost of the ATF fluid.  We had paid three fifty five for the fluid.  Saving the hundred dollars was great, satisfaction in diagnosing and repairing the problem ourselves, priceless.

Now we rolled on toward Haines Junction.  The rain was back and it was still cool but not cold, like before.

Just before Onie got out to register at Kluane RV Campground the rain quit.  It was six.  This is a beautiful campground with most sites having a view of the Kluane Mountain range.  Today they were capped with snow and wreathed in clouds.  A small glacier was also visible.

With backdrop to distract me it took a little longer than usual to get the land lines attached and functioning but when it was accomplished Onie and I sat out on our evening stroll.  After thirty minutes of strolling we stopped back at the coach for a little more music and to visit with one another.

Supper was on the table at eight with crosswords as a side.

At nine we signed on to the local hotspot to check email, weather and news.

Surfing at an end the writer began to scribble around ten when Onie became prone in the bedroom.  Scribbled out by eleven the driver joined her.

Outside it was partly cloudy and fifty three.  With all of the noise of the day good sleep came quickly. 

ALASKA TODAY?

June 7, 2007

Onie opines that the verbosity of the writer may be a little tiresome to the reader so an effort will be made to keep the comments succinct.

The wind may well have been whistling Dixie when I woke at seven but instead it was just howling as it blew over, around and under the coach.  Even on the jacks we rocked.  A bright sun shone down, undisturbed by the little earthly tumult, and warmed the screeching wind to fifty nine degrees.

Inside the coffee and tea were made and the business of getting it inside us was underway.  Blueberry cinnamon pancakes along with sausage and the beverages got our day started right.

An attempt to reach the local hot spot was successful but all attempts to send or receive email failed.

After making a few notes, showering and dressing we were ready to drop the land lines and head for Tok, Alaska, our hoped for destination for the day.  It was over three hundred miles and the roads we expected to encounter would be the worst of the trip.  Maximum speed would probably be fifty and in some places twenty five would be too fast.

At ten o’clock we began the final leg, to Alaska.

At sixty eight it has become obvious to me that the human mind is incapable of imagining the worst possible scenario or the best.  We can only hit and miss and fall far short of the intended mark.  Those who get close sometimes are called genius and those who never make it we call challenged, to be politically correct.  Why we ever bought into such nonsense is beyond me.  Why have we accepted the idea that the government can dictate what we are to say and how we are to say it.  We are guaranteed freedom of speech.  If you don’t believe it stand on the street corner of any large city and spout your hate, repulsion or venom about any culture or life style.  No one will bother you or arrest you for saying the wrong thing.  That is what free speech is all about.

If you are arrested for what you say you surely can’t be in America.  Wherever you are you can be sure the next thing on the government agenda will be to arrest you for what you are thinking and call it a hate crime.  That could never happen in a country where free speech and free thought are guaranteed and promoted.  That kind of thing is the result of indoctrination though a public school system controlled by the government, and our schools are controlled by the people through locally elected school boards, thank goodness.  Our freedom of speech and thought are safe.  They were and are bought and paid for in blood.  We should never let politicians rob us of them.

And so as I started to say before I wandered off, we had expected bad roads on this the last leg through the Yukon.  Once again we were surprised and not disappointed.  Heading toward Tok from our campsite the road was as good as any we had experienced, and surprised us, thus far.  We settled in to a nice ride, at fifty five, looking for animals and enjoying the Kluane Mountains.  This morning the tallest mountains seemed a bit bashful with their heads hidden in the clouds as though embarrassed by their towering stature, dwarfing their smaller neighbors.  Perhaps we misread them as their shoulders were shrouded in cold ice and snow.  Maybe we were just getting the cold shoulder and were too obtuse to recognize a snub.

After an hour we were jolted from our reverie when we hit the first frost heave.  At fifty five the front end of the Marlin almost left the ground and when it settled it was abruptly and violently on the front axle.  Fortunately we had our seat belts on so we were not ejected from our seats.    The exhaust brake and wheel brake were applied simultaneously and bought us down to earth and a cruising speed of thirty five.  We dropped down from this from time to time as road conditions dictated and they dictated quite frequently.  Between frost heaves, loose gravel with extreme dusty conditions and road construction, that ran on for unnumbered kilometers, our average speed dropped like the proverbial rock.  We had a long way to go to get to Tok and under the present conditions I could see us arriving after dark.  That would be sometime in August.

Just when all hope of reaching Tok at a reasonable hour was fading two things happened.  First, we had seen no animals all day though our eyes were tired from straining to see our hairy friends.  Then, right there in the bar ditch, munching away on wild roses, were two bears.  Second, the road smoothed out and we were coasting along again.  It wouldn’t last.

As we neared beautiful Kluane Lake more construction signs reared their heads and then the real thing appeared.  Pilot cars, really trucks, and slow going occupied us for what seemed like hours on end.  In reality it was only half an hour or so but during the drive around the lake, which is the deepest purest blue imaginable, we could barely see it due to the blowing dust.

Past Kluane good roads reappeared followed by more frost heaves.

Close to four we were saying goodbye to Canada and preparing for U. S. Customs   There seems to be no ends the Customs Service will not go to, to protect us.  Nothing is too difficult or outlandish for these guardians of our much too porous borders to carry out in the line of duty.  After presenting our passports at Customs and answering the usual questions in the correct manner we were asked to produce the registration for the coach.  In numerous crossings this had never been requested before and it is not something we usually carry.  Perhaps we will in the future.  Luckily we had a copy.

The officer examined it and said we were free to go, wishing us a safe journey.  Before driving on we inquired as to why it was necessary to produce the registration this time when we had never been asked for it before.  It was really simple.  The coach had no front license plate, not that it ever has.  Aha! Such attention to these fine details make me feel so wonderful and safe.  Now if these same fine folk would just stop the thousands of law breakers from crossing our borders I would feel even better.

Alaska had done much to improve the road to Tok since last year.  Our speed picked up a bit as we topped one hill after another, seeing old vistas afresh.  At a nice paved pullout, the first paved one in many a day, we stopped to smell the U.S. air and take a picture of the St. Elias and Wrangell Mountain Ranges.

Never tiring of wild flowers we also took some pictures of the wild roses and daisies.

Tok was beckoning and we were feeling a bit travel weary so we boarded the coach again headed on northwest.  The ninety three miles from the border to Tok was a relatively easy drive.  Upon arrival we noticed the Texaco Service Station, a local landmark, had burned, to the ground.

We stopped at our usual place and bought fuel for three oh eight.  We had averaged nine point six miles per gallon for the last one thousand sixty five miles.

Onie had selected Sour Dough RV Park for overnighting.  We pulled in, registered, found our spot and hooked up.

The evening walk was longer than usual with Onie logging over a mile and me over three., While walking we had decided to eat out at the campground restaurant.  Actually we would eat outside.  Ready for supper we set out to walk again to our meal.

The menu choices were not there.  We had a dilemma, an either or kind of thing.  We could have reindeer chili, which Onie opted for, or beef stew which was my choice.  Both were served in a huge sourdough bread bowl.  Both choices were excellent.  When supper was over I burned some marshmallows, on the community campfire, for Onie.  Mine were just toasted to a light brown.

While we enjoyed our meal and dessert a music show took place just in front of us.  Most of the songs were western, not country western but western.

When the band, man and wife, and Sourdough Ken, pictured above, took their final bows there was a short interlude and then it was time for the pancake toss.  The object was to toss stale pancakes into a five gallon bucket, from about fifteen feet away.  Each participant received two pancakes to throw.  Should one be fortunate enough to get a pancake in the bucket he was rewarded with a free pancake breakfast in the restaurant.  We each took our turn but missed the mark.  One of us would be cooking again in the morning.

We made our way back to the coach in the fifty degree evening air.  Once inside we turned on the electric heater.

Onie continued to prepare week one while I pecked away on week two.

Midnight found us pulling up the covers and hoping the forty seven degrees outside would stay there.  It was clear and since we were in Alaska, daylight.

ANCHORAGE

June 8, 2007

We are not in Kansas any more Dorothy. 

It was thirty five at six fifteen and yes it was daylight.  In fact for future reference and in the interest of brevity one can assume that it is daylight all the time now, in Alaska, until the scribbler notes differently.  Our little electric heater seems to keep the coach twenty one degrees warmer than the outside air.  That is with the heater set on warm.  We haven’t tried it on high yet to see what that will do.  We tried it with the same result.

Heat was added to the interior of the coach when the coffee and tea were made

With no dishes to do the writer sat down to note and write.  Staying up with the journal has the same price as liberty, constant vigilance.  Neither can be maintained without it.

Somewhat later Onie stirred and the rose for her first cup of java.  After a discussion of what we hoped to get done we began our day.  Showers were taken first so we would be dry when we venture out.  Onie is going to try to post week one, she will have to go to the rec area, outside, to do that.  I will have to unhook and ready the Marlin for another day’s work, all outside.

Eggs, ham, tomato, biscuits and stewed apples at nine, prepared by Onie, proved to be a sumptuous repast, at nine.  Outside it was fifty, inside it was much warmer.

Even though she had cooked she cleaned the kitchen while I scribbled away.

When Onie left to post week one the laptop was closed and the coach was made ready, inside and out, for the road.

When Onie returned she reported she had no success in trying to post week one.  Even though hot spots are advertised by many parks many do not work even when one is sitting in the shadow of the server.  Such was the case this morning.  It is frustrating for Onie to work to prepare the journal and then not be able to send it.  She will have to try again, down the road.

We were really getting close to Sterling and Castaway Riverside now, or so it felt.  There was only four hundred fifty nine miles between us and our home for this summer.  Before we got there we had to go through Anchorage.  We would stop there and continue on tomorrow. 

The first fourteen and a half miles of road were glasslike in their smoothness.  It was a beautiful day.  The troubles of the lift pump and the buzzing jack alarm were forgotten and instead celebrated as victories.  The great road turned good and holding, but every once in a while we were able to get back to fifty five, for a short stretch.  No animals were seen except for two fat bunnies.

Again we saw the St Elias-Wrangell mountains and with them miles of construction.

Twice we got to follow the pilot car.

The old road along the Matanuska River and glacier was still bumpy and winding but work is being done to fix it.  Mountains will be moved and the road will be straightened, maybe in my lifetime. We stopped for a latte and chai tea at the junction of the Glenn Highway and the Tok Cutoff, the same as last year.  Jeanie, the lady serving up the hot stuff told me the new governor, Sara Palin, is doing a much better job that the guy she replaced, Murkowsky.  She said he had been the most hated governor in the fifty states.  He was and is also the poster boy for political nepotism having appointed his daughter to the U.S. Senate to fill his unexpired term when he was elected governor four years ago.  There was a picture of her and Sara, together, on her wall.  She told me she had baby sat Sara when Sara was but a babe.  She probably voted for her too.

When we left the latte shop the road improved, for a while.  Again patience was the order of the day and with a small dose, I was still replenishing it from talking to Good Sam, we got to the freeway.  This may be the only real stretch of freeway in Alaska and we were glad to be on it nearing Anchorage.  As we made the curve around Knik Arm, where the Knik River empties into the bay, we saw a cow moose and yearling grazing in the bog.  They were very unconcerned about the dozens of vehicles speeding by at sixty five.  That included us.

Picking a good RV park in Anchorage is akin to deciding if one would rather have a cold, the flu or a migraine headache.  You just know there is no good choice.  Onie had opted for Ship Creek Landings RV Park for our stop over.  We got there at six.

An active railroad was not more than a hundred fifty feet from our site.  Rigs were crammed together with a few feet separating them, at best, and the sites were very challenging when it came to leveling the coach.

Right after we had gotten as level as we could a train came by.  It sounded like it was coming right through the front door but it missed us by a little. 

We did have a good wifi signal and that was very much appreciated.  One usually doesn’t get the best of everything at one time and we try to remember that. 

While sitting at the laptop it occurred to the long suffering, patient writer that a word or two might be in order, to Good Sam.  We could tell them this park has avianitis, it is for the birds.

The thirty amp outlet breaker tripped anytime we tried to run the least few things. Onie was ready to pull up stakes and leave except for the wifi connection.  With the good strong signal she got the first week posted before starting supper.

The laptop would run if most else was off so a little note taking took place.

With supper finished we turned in early.  Tomorrow would be a big day and we didn’t even think we could walk safely, where we were.

WASH DAY

June 9, 2007

Please don’t get the wrong impression when I say I’m up at six twenty.  My body doesn’t believe it and neither do I.  It is nine twenty in Coldspring and that is the time I get up, not the unseemly hour of six something, unless of course it is to go hunting or fishing.

This morning while the coffee and tea were brewing it was forty five outside.  Onie says that is what we came for, cool weather.  She is reminded we also came for the fish and that we consider forty five cold, at home.

We hoped to get an early start today since we wanted to wash the toad and coach before heading into camp.  That will take an hour or two.

Steaming hot oatmeal with our drinks got us started.

Breakfast was over by eight thirty.  While Onie cleaned up the kitchen I hurried outside with the trash and then began flushing our holding tanks.  Our summer home park has no sewer facilities so we want to go in with clean tanks.  While high pressure water ran into the black water tank I disconnected the power and checked the air pressure in the tires, a daily routine when we are on the road.  Flush and re-flush is the only way to assure clean tanks so I got on with the program until we achieved a zero reading on the monitor.  Next came the gray water and that was easy.  That task finished the hoses were put away, the Cummins cranked and the jacks retracted.  Onie already had the slides in.

At nine we knocked the dust from Ship Creek Landings RV Park off our tires and promised ourselves to never return.  The power had been iffy at best and the proximity to a busy railroad was too much to endure more than once in a lifetime.

We were having withdrawal pains from lack of Wal-Mart so we headed there.  It was just down the Old Seward Highway, a little past the Subaru dealer. 

Onie had our shopping list ready.  It included a Big Chief front loading electric smoker, a cal rod, herbs to be planted next to our coach upon arrival, flower bulbs, milk, eggs, trail mix and various other things, dark chocolate.  We had helped Anchorage and her citizens out by leaving almost two hundred dollars with them.

Back on the Old Seward High at ten forty five we were soon looking at the mud flats of Cook Inlet.  The out going tide had almost reached its slack time and there were miles and miles of dangerous mud visible as we wound away around the Inlet.  On the far side stood the familiar mountains.  On the surface danced whitecaps whipped by the wind. No sun sparkled on the Inlet this morning as it had yet to burn its way through the overcast.

Even though it was Saturday traffic headed out of town was light.

We usually fuel in Girdwood.  This morning we passed the station by.  The fuel was too expensive.  It was less in Anchorage and we don’t have to have it to get back to Anchorage in September.

We soon left Portage and the sunken houses behind.

The road had deteriorated some more from last year.  It really needs repair.  Perhaps Sara will see to it.

The Allison transferred the smooth power coming from the Cummins to the rear wheels and we drew ever nearer to our summer home.

Even as close as we were getting we still felt the pangs of hunger so we stopped at Suzy’s for lunch.  Yours truly had clam chowder and clam strips with French fries while Onie had just the fries and strips.

Southwest we headed again at two thirty.  Right past Scout Loop Road, the turn off to Castaway, we drove on into Soldotna and the car wash.  We left Suzy’s at two thirty and got to the car wash at three.

We unhooked the toad, took off the cover, got out the bucket with our car wash supplies and went to work, straight a way, to clean the Subaru.  The first few layers of dirt came off easily but the last four or five required a little more elbow grease.  When it was done to Onie’s satisfaction we pulled it out of the bay and drove in the coach.

Pretty dirty, huh

The coach is so long that we have to wash it in sections.  We did.  A couple hours later we were all done, in. It was five forty five.

Onie followed the coach with the toad.  Soon we were pulling into Castaway where LaVon was waiting in the drive, to greet us.  Our site was ready, with new thirty amp service, so we didn’t tarry but proceeded to back in.  Onie guided me with her arm signals and we got it right the first time.

Leveling, usually done with the engine running, waited until the shore power was connected and flowing.  Then the slides were put out and we went out to visit the friends we hadn’t seen since last summer.

Handshakes and hugs were exchanged with Sonny and Birdie, Stu and Shirley, Sandy was by herself since Dennis was in Anchorage working for the USPS.  The new work campers from Arkansas, Richard and Mary, greeted us.  Frank and Inger were at her place.  Chuck and LaVon were also greeted and hugged.  Sid and his wife, Barb, who are from Georgia are seasonal for the first time, this year.  They came bearing gifts, a five pound bag of Vadalia onions, picked, fresh from the field, just before they left a couple of weeks ago.  Only Bonnie and Dwaine from Michigan were missing.  They are also first year seasonals.

It had been a long day.  There was a lot to do before we could start fishing but we felt we had done enough for one day, so we relaxed in the coach.

By eight thirty it was cooling off.

Onie sliced some of the new Vadalia onions, some cheese and put sliced ham with them.  An item from Wal-Mart, Breton crackers was added to the table and we had our supper.

With the heater sending out warm air Floyd Cramer’s piano serenaded us as notes were made and Onie read.

Outside the temp was down to fifty six by nine thirty when we went to bed.      

CLEANING DAY

June 10, 2007

Onie beat me up this morning.  That is to say she rose at seven thirty while I lingered in our warm bed til eight.

Outside the sun shone brightly on the coach and I could here the fiberglass walls expanding as the chill was chased from them.  It had been colder than the current fifty so expansion was taking place.

Just seventy five feet away from our front door the Kenai River slipped quietly by on its way to the ocean.

Breakfast was an egg, two blueberry pancakes, bacon, Canadian bacon, milk, coffee and tea.

The cleaning started at nine.  Washing dirty clothes and dusty household items was high on the list of things to get done today.  We started this part of the cleaning by stripping the bed, picking up the area rugs, getting Onie’s driving blanket and my chair back cover the taking the pillow shams off the pillows and getting our bed spread.  All of these items, except the sheets and pillow cases, had been exposed to lots of dust and one could smell it upon coming into contact with the item.  To this little accumulation we added all the clothes we had worn since leaving Lake Road.  We would have at least five and perhaps six washer loads.  We carried these bundles to the laundry room and Onie began working on this part of our day.

Back at the coach both sides of the main basement carrying compartment were opened and a survey taken of the condition of the items stored there.  They were covered in fine talcum like dust.  The body said to get a damp cloth and clean them where they were.  The mind said they could never be cleaned in the basement.  They would have to come out.  The mind won out over the body and the body went to work.  Tote boxes holding boots, warm clothes, laundry supplies, fishing gear and outside rugs were removed.  Next came folding chairs and tables along with camping stools, walking sticks, windshield screen holders as well as rod holders were take out and laid in our yard.  That was one side of the basement.  The other side gave up our large salmon net, a charcoal grill, a bucket of pear wood and a bag of apple.  The wood would be used later for smoking reds. The last item out was the spare tire.  It was wrestled to the ground just outside the basement where it would stay until cleaned and then levered back into the storage compartment.  It weighed too much to handle it more than necessary.  When everything was laid out on the lawn Onie returned to work in the bedroom while clothes washed and dried.  She remarked that it looked like Gypsies were moving in.

Undeterred I muddled on.  First I got the vacuum out and ran it inside the basement.  Next I crawled in with a damp rag and wiped down all the walls and overhead.  It was a tight squeeze as well as being quite dusty.  This done I turned to whisk brooming the dust from each item before wiping it down with a wet washing mitt and clean water.  My bucket of water soon turned to mud and had to be refreshed.  With things washed and drying in the sun and dry wind, efforts were turned to getting out our patio rug.  Next came the rug for in front of the steps, then the folding chairs were taken out of their carrying sleeves and put in place.  The round plastic table was wiped down and placed on the patio rug.  A neighbor helped me move our new picnic table near the coach and partially onto the patio rug.

The arranging went on until Onie came back from the laundry where she had returned, to check on the clothes.  Most were dry or near dry and we needed to fold them and get them back to the coach.  Off we went.  Folding was a nice change of pace for us.

When we got back with our clean laundry we stored it or put it back where it belonged.

Now we went back outside where Onie helped me get out the awning and tie it down.

Next we put up the privacy screens on the front of the coach.

Before I could get her to help with putting on the tire covers tires covers she retreated to the house and more work there.  Putting on the tire covers necessitated lying on the ground and reaching around in back of the tires to attach bungee cords to hold them in place.  The rocks and dust just about put a cap on the day’s work for me.  It seemed we had just worked, worked, worked since rising.  It was time to rest.

LaVon had been holding our mail for us and brought it over, now.

Onie and I walked back with her to the office where we settled up for the balance of the summer’s rent and the deposits on a couple of trips booked for later this summer.

At six we finally called it quits for the day.  We gathered our shower stuff and headed off to clean up.  We were back, clean as new pennies if not as shiny, at seven.

We sat out on our patio and let the evening breeze dry our hair.  Mine dried first.

We ate at eight thirty and then played a couple of games of dominoes before bed at ten.

SHOPPING

June 11, 2007

Rising at seven thirty I made the coffee and tea. When I offered Onie her first cup of the day she asked for five more minutes sleep.  The coffee was put back in the pot and I joined her for the five minutes.  We woke at nine thirty

This time we did get up and have our coffee and tea.

While Onie fixed our breakfast of eggs, grits, bacon, Canadian bacon and the drinks I opened our mail.  Fortunately a lot of the junk mail never makes it this far so mail handling is easier here than on Lake Road.  By the time breakfast was on the table most of the mail was opened and sorted.

After breakfast we washed our morning pills down with a glass of milk.

Returning to the laptop I worked on the agency books while Onie cleaned up.

When the books were taken care of a few notes were made before we dressed, Onie warmly and me in shorts and a tee shirt.

Outside the sun shone warmly in the still morning air.  It was a fine day to be alive and in cool clothes.

Our breakfast done and morning chores out of the way we headed off to Soldotna to get a few necessary items. 

Our first stop was Trustworthy Hardware, for fishing gear and related items.  My friend, Bill Hager, had given me a nice reel last year during his visit with us  After about five hundred fish it began to have a rattle in it and the retrieve was a little rough.  I opened it up and put some reel grease in it.  That didn’t help.  Since it was near the end of the run of reds, and the action was hot and heavy, I lay it aside and fished with my old Ambassador 5000.  When the season was over it was time to begin preparations for the trip home.  The bottom line is I still had it and it wasn’t working very well.  Although Bill hadn’t gotten it at Trustworthy, I knew they carried the same brand and same reel, Abu Garcia 660C4.  Inside the store I presented the reel to Mattie, who sells reels.  She examined it, called an associate who looked at it further and in unison they pronounced it a defective reel.  Next they placed a box with a brand new reel in my hand and thanked me for coming in.  There was no paperwork, nothing to sign, they didn’t even ask my name.  Now is that service or what?   We had two other reels with us, the 5000 and a Calcutta.  We left all three with a young man to have new thirty pound Big Game monofilament spooled on and then went looking for other items.  Onie picked up two hundred of our favorite hooks.  Then we found three way swivels.  Next came the search for cannon ball weights, they were out of the size we wanted but told us we might find them at Dan’s over the bridge and across the street.  Back with Mattie we got our annual fishing license then picked up our reels.  

After checking out we went to Dan’s.  He had the weights we were looking for.  In addition he gave us a tide book.  We paid, thanked him and left.

Dropping Onie off at Safeway to start the grocery shopping I went on to the post office to mail some bills and Kyle’s baseball pictures.  We had inadvertently gotten the whole envelope of pictures when we were visiting in early May.  It was only after his mom, Tina, called that we realized we had them.  Now they were in a photo type envelope on their way back to Harvest, Alabama.

In the store Onie was busy shopping when I joined her.  The list was fairly long and we are also opportunistic shoppers, always on the lookout for reduced prices on items that we use regularly.  We were in the store for quite sometime.  When we went back outside the sun was gone and with it had gone the warm air.  The wind had come up and it was cold.

The warm environs of the coach sounded real good but we had one more stop, Fred Meyer.

Inside Fred’s, that’s how the locals refer to it and when we talk about it in the journal you can equate it with a Super Wal-Mart, Onie headed off to the produce section to look for cheap avocados.  There were none so she bought some that were pretty pricey.  There were other food items she wanted so she continued to shop.  When all the items were in the basket we went to the sporting goods section.  There we looked for a little one burner propane fired camp stove.  We didn’t see any we liked so we passed on that item.  We did see a battery powered filet knife that would be very handy when it comes to filleting several hundred reds, in a few weeks.  It went in the basket.

Back at the coach we unloaded the toad and then stayed inside the coach, where it was warm.

Onie had bought a roasted chicken at Fred’s and that with some salad fixings made lunch/supper.

With the writer occupied with the journal Onie played games on her computer and did some house work.  Later she did some reading.

Even later we went to bed.  Outside the wind blew the cold air around the coach.

BRUNCH WITH THE BUNCH

June 12, 2007

The writer got up at ten twenty Coldspring time, seven twenty local time.  It was fifty and party cloudy.  He toddled off to the shower in the lodge and twenty minutes later was back to make the coffee and tea.

Onie woke when she smelled the coffee.  Shortly thereafter she began making and baking biscuits for the brunch with the bunch that was to follow at ten.

At the appointed hour the occupants of the camp gathered on the porch of the lodge.  The sun beat down on us and warmed the breeze to sixty eight.  Greetings were made all around and then the process of making Zip Loc omelets began.  If you have never done this it is quite a treat and the omelets are almost fool proof. 

First you need to put out a sufficient number of eggs for those present plus a Freezer Zip Loc bag for each person who will be eating.  Next put out whatever you desire to go in the omelets, crumbled bacon, ham bits, diced onion, minced bell peppers, crumbled pan sausage, anything your heart desires.  Next start a large pot of water boiling.  When the water is boiling each person breaks no more than 2 eggs into their Zip Loc, squeezes the bag until the eggs are broken and well mixed and then adds all the ingredients they want.  The contents of the bag are thoroughly mixed by squeezing the bag.  When everything is sufficiently mixed up one burps the bag to remove all the air.  This is very important. Now the bag is ready to be dropped into the boiling water and cooked for fifteen minutes.  At the end of that time you will have the omelet you created, hopefully to your taste.  While our omelets were cooking we grazed on Onie’s biscuits, a favorite, fresh pastries, oven French toast, a medley of fresh melon and other things to ruin one’s waist line.

Birdie and Sonny

Chuck, Campground Owner, and omelet cooker

Duane and Bonnie, full-time RV'ers

Frank and Inger

LaVon and Chuck, Campground Owners

Mary from Georgia, LaVon, Campground Owner, and Doris from Florida

Sidney (wife Mary in previous picture) from Georgia

Shirley and Stu, Alaskans who winter in Arizona

Tye, fishing guide from Georgia

Before brunch was over it had clouded up and turned cool.

Onie and I enjoyed our creations before helping with the clean up.

There were a few biscuits left over and Stu asked if he could have them.  We obliged him and then headed for our rig.

In the coach, where it was warm, the scribbler wrote for several hours while Onie worked on fishing tackle and played games.

Stu came by to return the biscuit bowl and stayed to visit a couple of hours.  Onie kept working on the tackle.

Stu and I visited about Oklahoma where we both lived as young boys.  The talk was of dust, tornadoes, country work and country schools. 

When Stu left we went for a walk.

Back at the coach I drafted a neighbor to help me move our picnic table so I could get to a hose and put fresh water in our holding tank.

While the water was flowing Sonny came by to visit, for an hour.  The cold evening air chased him home and we went inside to our heater.

A few notes were made while Onie played games on her puter, we checked the web but the hot spot was cold so we didn’t get on.  Now we both played games for a while and then Onie got up to prepare supper.

A sliced tomato, a Vadalia onion and avocado made our salad.  The chicken soup that followed was steamy and spicy, really hitting the spot on a cool evening.

A few more notes were entered before we returned to our games.

At midnight we gave it up and went to bed.  Outside it was cold, again.