BIG SIOUX

Monday, May 25, 2009

Onie and Becky were up early.

The writer rose at nine and had hot tea and oatmeal for breakfast.

It was another beautiful cool day. 

After breakfast the driver became the writer sitting at the bar with his laptop, pecking away, trying to bring life and interest to memories of recent days.

Becky and Onie went to do some shopping.

While they were out they saw Chris with Brett.  They managed to talk Chris into letting them bring Brett home with them where I was still writing.

What a good time they had playing with the baby, feeding him, singing to him, rocking him and just being Onie and Nana.  He seemed to enjoy the time as much as they did.

While the pecking continued on the laptop they dressed him for outdoors, readied his stroller and took him for a walk.  As they left the house they passed the coach sitting at the curb, it must have seemed very big to Brett as he rode along in his stroller.

The seventy degrees, sunny sky and light wind made for a delightful walk as they pushed the stroller through the neighborhood, nodding hello to the local gentry.

An hour later when they returned the hunting and pecking was still continuing.

They had been home a short while when the phone rang and Britney announced she was coming to pick up Brett.  Living just a few blocks away she arrived quickly, gathered up Brett’s things and she and Brett were gone, leaving Nana and Onie without their delight.

The day was drawing on and the time for our departure was getting near.  The laptop was closed up and stored and the writer once again became the driver as he went outside to replenish the fresh water holding tank.

With that out of the way a quick trip was made to visit Chris in his apartment.  He is on his own and justifiably proud of his own place.  While the ladies think it leaves a lot to be desired from an orderly standpoint the writer thought it was typical for a male of his age.

Back at the Tatsami’s the extension cord that had kept the freezer running these few days was disconnected and stored.  The jacks were retracted and the pads loaded.  The toad was hooked up, goodbye hugs exchanged, the door closed and locked, the transmission engaged, the parking brake released and we were rolling once more, on to more adventures.  It was six o’clock.

We headed west out of Sheldon on Hiway 18, a narrow and not too smooth road but one the navigator assured the driver would

be the most direct route to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.  Even

though the day was growing short the wind was picking up and its varying pressure on the big walls of the coach kept the driver’s attention on keeping all the wheels on the roadway.

The passing farm land showed evidence of recent plowing and planting.  In some places new plants were just poking their green heads from the dark soil while on nearby ponds Canadian geese floated with their new hatchlings.

Small town Iowa came and went before we crossed the Big Sioux River, the dividing line between Iowa and South Dakota.  The imaginary lines that we draw to delineate one state from another or one country from another never seem to affect the wind, the rain, other weather or any of God’s other creatures.  They all come and go across these imaginary lines knowing them for what they are, imaginary.

With the change in states the highway surface and shoulders improved considerably while it retained the same number.

Seven thirty found us fueling at the Flying J in Sioux Falls where we also emptied our gray and black water holding tanks before heading on to Cummins.

Once there we found a parking place, unhooked the Subaru, and with the navigator’s direction backed in.

We had come eighty four miles.

Level and with the bedroom slide out we made our supper and visited a bit before retiring.

Inside the coach it was a comfortable seventy while outside it was sixty. 

PARTS PLEASE!

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The cool morning air was shattered by the sound of a cell phone alarm going off, at six.  Earlier the writer had heard a front loading garbage truck, pick up and bang a dumpster before putting it back down.

Now it was time to get up.

Wearing a robe the writer made his way to the kitchen, with Onie, and we began preparing breakfast, hot tea, buckwheat groats, wild blueberries and honey.

Once the tea was ready the writer began dressing while Onie tended the groats.  Then the roles were reversed.

Seated at the table we followed our morning ritual of eating and working a crossword.

At ten "til seven the short walk to the service department was completed where I met Debbie, the service writer.  Paperwork was completed then I returned to the coach where we got in the bedroom slide, we hadn’t put out the living room slide, got off the jacks and started the engine.  The shop foreman wanted it warm to see if we could duplicate the noise we had heard earlier.

A few minutes later a tech came to the coach and asked us to move the coach to bay seven on the far side of the building.  Over there, with Onie directing, the coach was backed in and the Cummins was killed.  Like the phoenix it would rise again but hopefully not out of the fire.

The bed was raised to allow the tech access to the engine and he began his work, after again reviewing where I thought the noise was coming from and what I thought it might be.  He elected to begin by checking the dash A/C compressor belt for tension.  A few minutes later he announced that the mounting brackets on the dash A/C compressor were broken.

The brackets were supplied by Spartan when the coach was made and were not a Cummins product.  Spartan would be called for the part.

The coach was pulled out of the bay, after the bed was back in place, driven around the corner of the building and an extension was run to supply power to us.  We leveled up and put out the slides.

Yesterday we had both talked about being tired.  The writer’s sinuses and allergies had been acting up and his restlessness at night had kept the co-pilot awake.  We had both wished for an opportunity to rest a bit and had even discussed staying at a campground for a while for just such a purpose.  Here our need was being met.

The driver and navigator rested in the coach while the Cummins folks made the call to Spartan.

A short time later the shop foreman, Chad, brought us news from Spartan.  The item was not in stock and it would be six to seven days before it could be in Sioux Falls.  Chad suggested I call Spartan and see if perhaps they would respond better, to me.

The call was placed.  I talked to customer service and was told that I would have to talk to parts.  I did.  Jim told me it would be thirty days before the part could be in Sioux Falls.  The story I had told him of being in transit to Alaska, for the summer, hadn’t affected him enough to want to go an extra mile, if he could, but I was able to elicit from him that the part came from “Bergstrom”.  That was all he knew except the Bergstrom part number which he gave me.

Now I needed internet access so I could try to find a Bergstrom that made or distributed mounting brackets for dash A/C compressors on motor homes.

Another stroll was taken to the Cummins service department where I talked to dynamic Debbie, a good Swede and the service writer, and explained my need.  Their computer network was closed and she was unsure where I could find an open system but she offered to try to find “Bergstrom” for me on her desktop.  The high speed service she had available made the job go quite quickly and within five or ten minutes we had a likely suspect in Rockford, Illinois.  A phone number was taken from the contact list.  I took it, thanked Debbie for her help and started another phone call, to Bergstrom.

A real live receptionist answered my call and I asked to be directed to customer service which transferred me to parts after hearing my story.  Pamela answered the phone, with a real Chicago accent, in a pleasant manner.  After hearing my story and taking the part number she advised she could help.  She had two sets of the needed parts in stock and could ship them today if she could get a purchase order from Spartan.  She couldn’t sell direct to me, but could drop ship the parts to me once she had the Spartan okay.  I was to call Spartan, place the order, pay for it including overnight air shipping and then Spartan was to call her, she had given me her direct number, place the purchase order and the part would be here tomorrow.

Calling back to Spartan it was determined that Jim wasn’t available but Dan was.  The story was repeated along with the details of the phone call to Pamela and her direct number.  Dan agreed to take the order from me and call Pamela with the purchase order.  The part would be at Cummins tomorrow.  If there was a hitch he would call me back but he was certain things would go as planned.

Back at the service desk I thanked dynamic Debbie for her invaluable help.  Then I found the shop foreman, Chad, and explained the situation to him.  He would be on the lookout for the part.

In the coach Onie and I donned jackets and set out for a walk around the Cummins building.  The temperature had fallen since we rose and the wind and high humidity made it seem even colder.  After a few turns around the building we went back to the coach where the resting was resumed and soon Onie and I were fast asleep.

The ringing phone woke me.  It was Dan, at Spartan.  He couldn’t sell direct to me as I wasn’t a distributor but he could sell the part to Cummins as they are a distributor.  If I would have the Cummins parts department call him he would place the purchase order with Bergstrom and have the part drop shipped to Cummins.  It would be here tomorrow.  I would pay Cummins for the part and air freight when the work was completed.  That was okay by me.  I told Dan I would have Cummins call him.

Another walk was taken to the Cummins parts department where I spoke with Mike, the parts manager.  The situation was explained and he agreed to call Dan right away so the part would be here tomorrow.

Back in the coach, at four o’clock, we sat down to salad and chicken soup.  Onie had made the soup during my strolls and prepared the salad on my most recent jaunt.  The meal was a real treat and the hot soup chased the cold from my being much as a dog would chase a cat. 

Did I mention that during my ramblings Onie had set up the TV?  We watched the game show channel while we ate and then went back to the comfort and warmth of our bed.  The writer soon fell asleep, again.

At five thirty the writer was back in the Cummins parts department.  They are open from seven in the morning until midnight as is the shop.  The night parts manager assured me all was in order and the part would be here between ten thirty and a quarter of eleven, tomorrow.  After thanking him the driver went back to the coach.

A little news was watched on Fox and then some more of the chicken soup was eaten before the laptop was taken out and these few notes depicting another day in the adventures of Onie and Pawpaw were started.

Onie repaired to the bedroom to watch TV while the writer stayed on the couch with the laptop nestled on his lap top, where else, and wrote until midnight.

We have learned to be happy in whatever situation we find ourselves. 

INSTALLED AND GONE

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

We spent a restful night in the lee of the Cummins building, protected from the north wind and the drizzle that began falling sometime after midnight. 

The temperature of fifty two and a half had only risen to fifty-two point nine by the time Onie rose at eight and remained there when the writer rose half an hour later.

The hot tea and steel cut oats with strawberries and walnuts really hit the spot on such a cool morning.  We finished one crossword and completed a second before getting showered and dressed.

It was close to eleven so the driver went to check on the arrival of the parts.  They were in and Chad told me to get the coach ready to put in a bay.

Back at the coach Onie had been cleaning and when I got back we pulled in the living room slide.  The bedroom slide was already in.  The electrical connection was taken in, the jacks retracted and the coach moved so we could put it in bay number two as soon as it was open.

Waiting for the bay to become available, a call was placed to Dawn and then Clair.  Onie was checking her voice message from Tracy.  While Clair was on the phone Chad came out and said “Back ‘er in”.  With Onie directing we did.

In the bay the bed was raised and the engine compartment light turned on.  We were ready for the tech.

Onie got her list and headed off to Wal-Mart to get some salad things and a new twin pack of fluorescent bulbs for the coach.  We had replaced one bulb at White Rock campground and needed a new pack to be ready when the next bulb goes.  We usually use a couple of bulbs a summer.

With Onie off into the light drizzle the writer sat down to make these notes and complete last week.  He had completed all but Sunday of week one and hoped to finish that today so Onie could  place pictures, edit and post the week at the next hot spot.

Work on the coach began near one as the writer continued his thinking and pecking.

When the tech was completely inside the engine compartment and strange words could be heard from the same area the writer closed the laptop and became a walker.  For an hour he circled the Cummins building, bundled up in his heavy coat to protect against the cold north wind and drizzle.

At the end of the hour he turned into the service area and was met by Chad.  The new parts were installed and the coach was ready to be moved outside.

A quick call was made to the navigator.  Her shopping chores were over and she was just around the corner from me.  All by himself the driver drove the coach from the service bay to the opposite side of the building where it was stopped to prepare to hookup the toad.

In a couple of minutes the toad appeared carrying Onie and her treasures.  She pulled right up behind the Marlin and the hookup process began.  Hooked up and ready to roll the driver went in to pay the bill or at least put it on a credit card. 

A quick examination of the bill showed that the cost of the brackets had gone up fifty percent in six years.  The credit card bill was signed and the driver hustled back to the coach.

Inside the coach Onie had everything ready to travel.  Sliding behind the wheel the driver placed the Allison in drive, released the parking brake, eased into the street, went a block and a half, made a turn, went four blocks and took the entry ramp to the freeway, we were gone.   

West bound on IH90 we soon left the city behind and were motoring across countryside, the flat land being interrupted now and again by a few slight inclines.  The landscape was carpeted with new green growth and it was easy to tell that spring had just arrived here.  Overhead a bright blue cloud-flecked sky held but a breath of air.

For and hour or better we traveled this terrain, spotting some pheasants in the field as well as a hen crossing the road just in front of the fast moving coach.  Where the grass was replaced by farming the fields were freshly plowed or still retained corn stubble from last fall.

A sign advertising a Dairy Queen reminded us that we would soon be leaving this place of dip cones and Blizzards, behind.  We pulled off and got what might be our last of both for sometime then resumed our journey, west.

At Chamberlain the scenery changed abruptly.  We descended a steep hill and at the bottom lay a large lake.  On the far side of the lake was a long steep hill.  For the next few hours it was long descents followed by long climbs with the Cummins changing RPM’s as the Allison shifted quietly gears.

Onie and I enjoyed the antelope we saw from time to time as well as the music we had playing.  Ever the multi-tasker, Onie also worked on a crossword.

The cold of the morning had given way to a cool afternoon and with the coming of evening and the sun coming through the windshield the dash air was engaged.  We were glad we had the new mounting brackets.

As the hours and miles slipped by we decided on a stopping place, Rush No More Campground just east of Sturgis, South Dakota.  We have been there before and enjoy the peace and quiet offered there.

At the campground, at eight o’clock local time, we checked in and selected a spot.

Onie prepared supper while I wrote a bit

After supper we got ready for bed.

It had been a long, but good, day.  We had traveled three hundred sixty miles in some six and a half hours with only one stop and that for ice cream.

The warm temps faded with the sun and we settled into bed with the outside temp sitting at fifty.

UP AND RUNNING

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Time changes are confusing to the writer and we made one last evening, just before stopping.  What time we got up is a thing still unclear to me but we were both rested, the sun was already high and we had lots to do before getting on the road again.  That sun thing, being high so early, means we are certainly farther north.  Last night the sun set about nine thirty and this morning it was up by six, I’m sure, maybe earlier.

Onie sat right down and began work on last week’s stories and pictures so they can be posted to the website before we leave here.  We have a hot spot for the first time this trip.

The writer fixed some tea, wrote a bit, took a shower, wrote some more and tried to get the coach ready for travel when Onie was finished.

Our goal today is to get the stories posted, up and running, as well as reach Billings, Montana.

Onie finished her morning ablutions as quickly as she could and then started the coach and got us off the jacks while I finished getting in the land lines.

Twenty two minutes after checkout time, eleven, we were rolling.  If we had been in high season or the park had been full or even busy we would have asked for a late checkout but with only a handful of rigs in a park that can accommodate over a hundred we saw no need.

Out of the park just a couple of minutes we saw two whitetail doe dash across the road in front of us as we headed for IH90, west.

We were back on the super slide, aka freeway, headed west.  Sturgis, the city of biker mania, lay twenty-seven miles distant and past that at exit ten we turned north on 85 for a few miles before turning back west on 212.

The passing countryside was right out of a western movie, buttes, wadis, bluffs and creeks.  The only things missing were the cowboys, cavalry and Indians.  We were headed toward Custer country or at least the land he thought was his.  In a deadly afternoon he was able to prove once again that pride goeth before a fall.

Onie opined as how we were nearing antelope country and we should keep a sharp eye out for them.  Sure enough they soon began to appear, mostly on her side of the road but a few on mine.  In the few ponds we saw there were some ducks and several Canadian geese.  Make a note to call Homeland Security about this ongoing threat.  Obama and company should know. 

Mother’s day comes after father’s night in the normal course of events and the evidence was all around us as motored on west.  New born antelope were seen with their moms, nursing and hanging tight, new calves followed the cows and foals were frolicking near the mares.

When we entered the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation the lack of wildlife was noticeable however we did see two antelope.  Horses were abundant as the modern day Cheyenne seems tied to his ancestors in judging his wealth by the number of horses owned.  His forebears also counted wives as part of their wealth but it is unknown if there be any Mormon Cheyenne today so they may be limited to a paucity of wives, having only one and therefore being deemed poor from a historical viewpoint.  The author would point out, in passing, that many a modern man has found that just one wife can make him poor indeed and multiple wives can ruin him, forever.

Well, the day waxed warm and warmer to the point that the dash air was employed and we were glad indeed to have the new brackets in place and working.

As we neared the Little Bighorn Battleground area, traffic, which had been light, increased along with the number of dwellings. 

Near the battle site I was again struck by what a beautiful setting so many young brave men, white and Indian, had died in.  Had they had an inkling on that last day of their young lives that they were about to meet their maker and if so what did they do to prepare for it.  We know that the Indians traditionally did the “Death Dance” before going into battle but what about the cavalry?  Custer, in his arrogance, certainly didn’t have a clue.

At the junction we headed toward IH90, again.  We had taken a scenic shortcut and were now about to enter the world of freeway traffic again.

Back on IH90 we were far removed from the countryside and now focused on getting to Billings, Montana.  We also heard from our friend, Sidney.  He was in Alaska near Glennallen.  They would make one more overnight stop before heading into camp.  The roads in the Yukon had been “horrible” and they had run into a severe snow storm north of Whitehorse.  We agreed to talk once more before we enter Canada, probably Saturday morning.

In Billings we pulled into the Flying J to fuel up.  It took seventy three plus gallons to bring us back to the full mark.  Many miles had passed since we last fueled and many a long grade had been pulled.  While the driver didn’t compute the mile per gallon he estimated it to be in the neighborhood of eight and half to nine, very good considering the terrain and wind conditions.

A decision was made to stop over at the Flying J for the night.  Being an older location they had no parking for RVs so we parked with the eighteen wheelers.

In place we drew some water in a bucket, from the basement, and wiped the dust and grime off the toad, with wet cloths.  When it was clean we put the foam windshield cover in place and then the car cover. 

The navigator has been worried about the effect the heat will have on the onions entrusted to our care.  Another decision was made to transfer them to the couch in the coach where the temperature is better controlled and they will be out of the sun.  She had covered them with a blanket to protect them from the sun in the toad but felt they would last longer if they were kept cooler.  We now have four hundred pounds of Vidalia onions sleeping on the couch.

One last thing waited to be done in the grueling heat that was all around us, eighty five for those who are curious.  Our bucket of water and cloths were taken to the front of the coach where we meticulously removed the carcasses of all the bugs that had sacrificed themselves on to front end of the Marlin.  That job finished we went inside where the generator was cranked, the overhead air turned on and we began cooling off.

Onie fixed supper, salad and chicken soup.

When supper was over she retired. It was eight thirty local time, nine thirty Coldspring time.  The temp had dropped to seventy seven as the sun was starting to sink in the west.

The writer sat down to finish the day’s story and worked on until nine when the temp was at seventy three.

Another half hour and the sun will be completely down and the temp should plunge, hopefully, and the air conditioning can be turned off and the generator can be killed. 

PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

Friday, May 29, 2009

The parking lot quieted down about eleven thirty and the temperature had dropped into the high fifties.  The generator was allowed to sleep the rest of the night, as did we.

We woke at seven thirty and revived the generator to make tea while Onie cooked the steel cut oats, garnished them with fresh strawberries, walnuts and raw honey.

The writer whiled away his time with a shower and his laptop.

Outside the sun was already rising high in the sky and the parking lot was becoming busy with drivers checking their rigs and going to breakfast.  Soon one would have to wait one’s turn to exit the parking lot.  Most likely that would be us.

Ready to travel at nine thirty we rolled out of the parking lot and headed west on IH90 for a couple of minutes and headed north on state Highway Three.

Our antelope friends soon joined us in the fields we were passing.  They grazed on the verdant green alfalfa meadows and in the wheat stubble that stretched to the distant skyline.

Montana is the land of the big and the small.  There are big skies, big mountains, big hills, big valleys, big houses, big barns, big silos, big fields, big herds of antelope, big tractors pulling big equipment big as a city lot and big winds.  There are small towns, four or five houses, small creeks, small roads, small antelope, small lambs, small cows called calves, small shoulders on roads and small or no fences.

Highway Three ran into Highway Eighty Seven and ran with it, west, for a while.  To our left were the Crazy Mountains, still snow capped, in front were the Little Belt Mountains and to our right were the Little Snowy Mountains.  Beneath us the road climbed over the hills and dove into the valleys where the small creeks trickled, running clear, under the roadway.  Some sign of beaver appeared now and then and where there was a pond Canadian geese and Mallard ducks paddled and raised their young.  Please call Homeland Security about these Canadian geese and the threat they pose.

Oldies from the Fifties came from the stereo speakers as we motored under the azure cloud flecked skies.

At Eighty Seven West we left Hwy. 3 and headed north.  Antelope were still keeping us company as the hills steepened and the Allison and Cummins meshed to climb the steepest hill and race to the bottom of the deepest vale

This is country where a farm is a section and a ranch stretches to the horizon and you fetch your mail on a dirt bike because the mail box is four miles from the house, down a dirt road.  Of course I once saw a sign near Big Bend, in Texas, that pointed past a mail box on the paved road and said “Ranch house 26 miles”.  Now that is a ranch!

Great Falls came into view as Marty Robbins sang “A White Sport Coat” which had been preceded by an hour of his most popular hits.

The highway led us right through downtown with nary a stoplight synchronized with the next.  It was obvious the Chamber of Commerce wanted us to see and notice each business we passed.  We noticed Starbucks.

Leaving Great Falls we scaled the long incline that led to the airport road and the road out of town.  From the top of the plateau we looked down on Great Falls, spreading through the valley.

We were closing in on our destination.  Did I mention we stopped at the Flying J in Great Falls and topped off our diesel.  It is probably the last we will buy in the lower forty eight for some time.

From Flying J we had taken IH15 north.  The eighty five miles to Shelby passed quickly as Marty continued his unending repertoire.

Before leaving Billings we had called Lewis and Clark RV Park in Shelby, Montana.  They had a pull through for us.  Now we pulled off through exit three-sixty-four and pulled into the park.

Onie checked us in, at four o’clock, and the owner showed us to our site.   We quickly leveled up and shut the Cummins down.  She had earned a rest.

The bedroom slide was put out, the living room slide will most likely stay in until we reach Castaway as the couch is now loaded with four hundred pounds of Vidalia onions, the land lines connected and the roof air started.  It was eighty five degrees.

A few phone calls were made to friends and family advising them we would be leaving the lower forty eight tomorrow.  While I was talking Onie got our satellite signal tuned in just in time for us to watch America’s favorite actor, John Wayne, in one of his last movies, “The Cowboys”.  I was hoping he wouldn’t get killed this time but he did, anyway.  Perhaps next time he will kill all the bad guys.

Supper: Fried Zucchini Squash for an appetizer, salad, corn on the cob and Texas mesquite smoked brisket.  We thanked God for our bounty and wondered what the poor folk were doing.

While Onie checked her email the writer jotted these few meager notes hoping to keep in contact with his friends and faithful readers.

At ten o’clock it was still daylight but we decided to retire to the bedroom to watch anther movie.  The air conditioning still ran as it was still sixty five at a quarter to ten.

WILLEY WEST

Saturday, May 30, 2009

The roof air conditioning units ran all night.  We had left Lake Road to find cool and we were still looking for it.

At eight-thirty our day began as we fixed tea and Onie began preheating the over for biscuits.  When the biscuits were in the oven she started the sausage water and got the sausage in the pan.  Lemon curd, marmalade and figs sat on the table waiting for the biscuits and sausage to make their appearance.  When they did the blessing was said and the feasting began.  Too many biscuits and too much sausage later we called it quits and began cleaning up the kitchen.  That done the driver went outside to replenish the fresh water.  Onie vacuumed the floors as she didn’t figure to have electrical hookups for a while.

Chores done we placed calls to family to let them know we were going to be incommunicado for a few days.  When the calling was finished we closed up the coach, got her road ready and left the park

We were on the road again at eleven fifteen.

There was thirty seven miles of Montana and the United States between us and Canada.  We covered them in forty five minutes.

The U.S. side of the border is Sweetgrass, Montana.  The Canadian side of the border is Coutts, Alberta.  We made the transition from resident to visitor without a hitch and were in Coutts at half past the hour.

Alberta welcomed us with a good surfaced flat road and just a few miles inside Canada we saw six antelope, near the road.  We were moving too fast to get a picture and there was no place to pull over so the reader will just have to trust us on this one.  Along with the antelope we saw farms, and some ducks.  A little wind blew us an afternoon kiss as we motored north.

One thirty found us skirting Lethbridge.

Construction is part of every road trip of any length and we have had some every day but not enough to slow us down.  It has been one lane closed on a four lane highway with the speed reduced to one that is faster than we are driving so we just maintain our speed and drive on through.  That was true of all days except one when we had a bit of gravel to traverse and that was short.

.

Past Lethbridge we went down to Old Man River.  Yes that is the real name of the river.  To get there we went down a long steep grade and then climbed out on the far side.  Now there were more rolling hills and long grades.  Mixed forest lined the road as we swept along, north and west, and then north around Calgary.  Well, we sort of went around Calgary.  It took half an hour and each time the city disappeared it rose again on a different quarter only to sink from sight as the road curved again.  At last it sank for good, what happened to the inhabitants we haven’t heard, but we were on to Red Deer and then past it.

Never tiring of seeing wild animals we are constantly on the lookout for them and just past Red Deer Onie saw five white tail deer.  There were lots of beaver dams and signs of beaver activity but we saw no beavers.

We pulled into Willey West Campground at eight.  The campground is bounded on one side by the North Saskatchewan River.  We had no reservation but were hoping for a pull through with full hookups.  The park was full.  After a little conversation the campground hostess with the mostest agreed to let us park at the boat launch parking lot, next to the river.

We pulled in, leveled up, put out the bedroom slide and took a short walk to the river.

The coach, nestled against the trees, could have been in the middle of the woods from all appearances.

We were glad to be at rest.  We had driven four hundred fifteen miles today and were both tired.  We snacked and then began playing dominoes.  The driver managed to eke out two wins and the navigator romped on the other one.

The temperature had dropped to a pleasant point by the time we retired at ten thirty.

STRETCHING THE WIND

Sunday, May 31, 2009

The forty two degree air caused he generator to cough a bit, at seven thirty, as it came to life.  The sun coming through the trees had managed to warm the interior of the coach to fifty two when we started the tea water. 

Onie was standing in front of the stove warming saved buttered biscuits in the skillet while sausage from the same meal warmed in the microwave.

Outside the driver was doing his morning check.  That completed he came back inside to make a few notes before Onie put the steaming breakfast on our table.

We had to lift and eat quick lest the morning air rob our meal of its warmth.  Tea, in insulated mugs, steamed a while longer before becoming room temperature.

Breakfast over and paper plates in the trash Onie went outside to help the driver replace a front marker lens that had been swept away by the wind sometime since we left home.  We had just discovered it yesterday so quite possibly the loss can be laid at the feet of the Alberta winds.

We had the marker lens in place and the ladder and tools stored soon enough to get on the road by a quarter of nine.  We had been hoping for eight.

Back on the highway the wind continued rocking us as we motored along looking for animals.  All day long we kept a keen eye out for critters and all we saw were domestic looking things.  We also saw lots of woods and hills, distant mountains and close-by rainstorms. 

At Whitecourt we stopped at Canadian Tire to see if we could get some replacements for our windshield wipers.  While in the store we picked up some diet Cokes and long extra heavy duty electrical ties. Those are what we use to tie down the living room slide cover in high wind and we have been very glad we tied it down when we did.  We did buy some wiper blades but had to return them as they were the wrong type connection.

After Canadian Tire we crossed the street to an IGA where Onie went in and bought some fresh vegetables.

An hour and a half after pulling off the highway we were on the road again.

Has it been mentioned that the wind blows very hard up here in Alberta?  While we were in Canadian Tire I noticed a woman buying what appeared to be a three inch by five inch Canadian flag as well as a pair of child’s size two coveralls.  Needing to pass some time while Onie was looking around I asked her what she was going to do with such a small flag and if her grandson would wear the coveralls.  She told me she wasn’t a grandmother but might be in another fifteen or twenty years and that the flag was to fly from the fifty foot flag pole at home where she lived with her thirty two year old husband.  It appeared to me she may have robbed the cradle but I let it go, being a Southern gentleman.

Continuing the conversation I remarked that the flag would be kind of hard to see fifty feet up in the air.  With a look I’m sure she usually reserves for small children and idiots she explained about the flag and coveralls as follows:  the wind blows very hard in Alberta.  The flag and coveralls would be taken home and pinned on her clothes line, a half inch wire cable, so as not to break in a sudden gust, and left for forty eight hours.  After that time the wind would have stretched the flag to a five by eight foot banner and the coveralls would be a men’s size thirty eight, long.  If she left them any longer they would both be too big for use and they would have to be returned.   Now to the untrained ear and to the person not personally acquainted with the winds of Alberta this may sound a little far fetched but let me tell you that after driving in these winds I am sure what she told me was gospel.

Back on the road I looked for this woman’s house but apparently missed it as we saw no fifty foot flagpole.  The wind did continue to blow and shove us about in a most unseemly fashion.

The dark clouds we had seen earlier now drew closer and soon we were under them and receiving the rain they offered.  At least the wind quit blowing while it was raining.  For a while it was dark while it was raining but then the sun began to shine through the rain.  Being from the south we knew this could only mean one thing, the devil was beating his wife with an iron frying pan.  Thinking back to Canadian Tire I knew this to be true because that woman that told me about the flag had a black eye.

Headed toward Grand Prairie we saw numerous geese and their young as well as many beaver dams and other signs of beaver activity.  In one pond we saw a beaver making his rounds.

A few miles before Grand Prairie we left the four lane highway in favor on a two lane one that would take us around the city.  We have been through it a few times and it is usually crowded and takes some time to navigate.

An hour or so later, and a lot of pretty countryside, we were on the far side of Grand Prairie, headed north.

Now we were within striking distance of Dawson Creek, mile one of the Alcan. 

There was however one little road hazard to be negotiated before we got there, at least one we knew about.  Six tenths of a mile into British Columbia, yes we were finally out of Alberta after seven hundred six miles, we were into serious construction.  We had to stop and wait our turn to go over a wooden bridge detour.  The permanent bridge had been torn down and it was in the process of being rebuilt.  We eased over the wooden structure and went on to the hazard we had known about, all along, the Peace River descent and climb out.  Anyone who has ever driven into Dawson Creek has had to cross the Peace River.  On this road, north bound, there are four miles of descent at grades varying from six to ten percent.  The driver finds it is best to take it slow, first or second gear with the exhaust brake engaged.  Go too fast and one risks burning up their brakes trying to stop and a very wide swift Peace River waits at the bottom.  If the passenger can take their eyes and mind off the descent there is a wonderful panoramic view of the valley, to enjoy.

With the descent made we began the climb out and then headed on to mile one of the Alcan.  That would be the roundabout in Dawson Creek.  Roundabouts were invented by a drunk Englishman you know.  There can be no other possible explanation for such a horrible contrivance and then to think that it is passed off as a traffic control device.  Of course folks who pay a dollar or more for a few ounces of water in a plastic bottle might actually believe that line.

The navigator said we had gained another hour when we crossed into British Columbia.  That meant two, one now and one when we got into Montana, I think.  I’m sure she is right because she is hardly ever wrong and when she is, it is because she believed the driver.  This driver is still trying to figure out where the time is that we gained.

Since it was now four and not five and I had been driving seven, not eight hours I should not be tired or ready to stop.  The reasoning escaped my body and my mind was still grappling with it as we left Dawson Creek in the rear view mirrors and headed for Fort St. John. 

The drive into Fort St. John on the two lane road is really quite pleasant and seemed short when one realizes we had already surpassed the twenty six hundred mile mark on the trip odometer.  We were over half way no matter how you cut it.

In Fort St. John we left the main highway and wound our way through town until we found Wal-Mart, our stopping place for the night.  Wal-Mart is in close proximity to Safeway where we will fuel up in the morning.  Our Safeway card will save us at least fourteen cents a gallon.

It is rare we stop at a Wal-Mart for the night without going in to shop.  This was no exception.  Among other things we shopped for was the wiper blades.  We found some we thought might work but being unsure expressed our doubts to Norm, a Wal-Mart employee.  His answer was hardcore Wal-Mart, “Buy it and if doesn’t work or you don’t want it, bring it back.  After all, this is Wal-Mart”.  How can you not like Wal-mart?

At the coach we found that the wiper blades would work with a little modification, Texas engineering.  We have found that many times parts will work on the Marlin, with a little modification.  With two tool boxes and various tools arrayed on the parking lot in front of the coach and with Onie standing by to help, the modifications were done and the new blades fit perfectly.  Voila!  Now it was supper time.

Salad, fried zucchini, sautéed onions and smoked brisket was our humble fare.

With our tummies full Onie took to the bedroom to watch a movie while the writer pounded out these few lines for the loyal readers.

At ten o’clock it was beginning to get dark and the temperature had fallen to sixty three after having reached a high of sixty nine, earlier.  The heater had run most of the day, as we traveled and shirt jackets had been worn when we were outside.  Now it was bedtime and the shirt jackets were traded for blankets.