GOVERNMENT WORK

Sunday, August 22

By two thirty the temp had fallen to thirty six. We snuggled deeper into the covers. By six it was thirty five. Only a head of hair and a stocking covered one protruded from the covers. The hard rain that had fallen throughout the night continued off and on.

The driver braved the cold at seven fifteen, when it was thirty eight, long enough to start the generator and electric heater before dashing back to bed. The writer knows it is hard to dash in a rig only thirty seven feet long but he gave it his best as he beat a hasty retreat to the warm bed.

It was a bit warmer in the Marlin by eight when the driver and navigator rose to make coffee and cocoa.

The writer sat down to take notes off the recorder while breakfast was being prepared by the navigator, cook, bottle washer and housekeeper extraordinaire. She had the meal on the table at eight twenty. Eggs, toast and turkey ham steamed on our plates for all of five minutes before cooling off. We ate what we could hot, some luke warm and some cold but we ate all of it.

Mornings around the traveling Blomstroms are slow and cold mornings around the traveling Blomstroms are even slower. After breakfast Onie took out the trash, hustling in the forty three degrees under very cloudy skies. Getting back from the bear proof trash containers she reported that rain appeared to be waiting for us, just over the hill and around the curve.

Mr. Cummins and sister Allison pushed us onto the road at ten thirty. As we left our campsite a light mist was falling.

The mist continued as we traveled a short distance to a bridge where repairs were taking place. Since it was Sunday and men were drawing a salary for road work we knew it had to be a government job. No contractor in his right mind would pay double time for men to work on Sunday unless there was a large penalty involved for late completion of the job. Closer scrutiny confirmed our suspicions. There were twelve to fifteen men on the site. One had to be the supervisor, one a foreman, one a safety inspector, one a government inspector, one an EMT, one a union rep, one a job boss and, of course, there were men who had to hold up the pickup that was parked near the bridge. Three of them were leaning against it lest it fall over even though it looked fairly new and not liable to upset without their support.

There even appeared to be an engineer on the job with a field assistant who was directing a lone soul operating a jack hammer on just where and how he should take out cement roadbed. Then of course there was the man who stood far off watching the whole operation to be sure everyone was doing their job. He was young and looked lost. We figured he was the whole reason for the job. He was some politician's son-in-law who needed a job but was unfit for any work whatsoever other than keeping the pol's daughter happy. Rather than have the happy couple live with him he created this job so the guy would be out from under foot and not eating him out of house and home.

With a sigh we drove on. We had just witnessed our tax dollars at work.

The road that took us away from this place of industrious labor and efficiency was half way up the hillside. Below us were numerous small ponds and lakes. All appeared low. The rain that had blessed Alaska did not find its way here.

Even in this is remote area there is electric, however there are no power lines to disturb the view. The power lines are buried. When there is a creek of any size the power line comes out of the ground to a pole where it spans the creek to another pole then it goes back into ground. It is nice to see mountains, lakes, creeks, trees and rivers without the view cluttered by power lines. While there are some protective barriers on the side of the road there seem be far fewer than in the US; of course, Canada is a far less litigious society, in the eyes of the writer, than the US. Perhaps the government feels the gene pool is better off without those individuals who would carelessly throw themselves and their vehicle off a precipice in pursuit of money from a hapless road designer/engineer, or perhaps the government themselves, as happens in the US.

Once again we have been traveling by the old road for a while. We could see where the old road curved and departed from the current alignment, and where the old road curved, one could see trees six and eight feet tall growing in the road bed. In a few more years travelers will not be able to identify that part of the old road. Where the old road is paralleling the new road grasses and small shrubs are growing along with a few small trees. Obviously the curved portion has been out of use longer. As mentioned on other occasions the road is constantly straightened and realigned.

The dash heater continued to run and has run every day since we left Castaway.

We were passing Beaver Post RV Park just before the junction of the Cassiar. We went out that way last year and said we would probably never again travel that road in our current rig.

At the junction of the Cassiar, Highway 37, we were moving along pretty quickly and covering quite a bit of ground. According to the driver's mental calculation at the end of yesterday we were twenty percent of the way to Belle Baie Park in Church Point, Nova Scotia. The Cassiar was closed due to a big fire, one hundred thousand acres, burning on both sides of the road. Perhaps the smoke we had seen at Haines Junction was from this fire.

The Upper Liard Lodge which is on the north side of the Liard River was passed just before we crossed that river.

Still we headed south, and south of the river, utility lines have appeared on poles along the side the road. More humanity is in evidence here.

Watson Lake, Yukon was quiet when we entered it at twelve ten. Since it was Sunday there was not much open and not much local traffic. We were thru town in three or four minutes and kept peddling south. To the long time readers they may remember that Watson Lake is where we spent the night on a flat bed trailer in the coach. We don't know anyone else that has ever done that, and if the readers do, please let us know. We think we may be unique in that respect, alone.

Ten miles south of Watson Lake we were back in B.C. Much of this area is like the west used to be in the US, free range. The few cattle and horses that live here are free to roam where ever they please along with the deer, elk, moose and bison. Just as we were crossing a bridge we encountered some of the horses. We slowed down to a crawl for them not knowing what to expect. They hardly noticed us as we crept by but drivers should take heed and drive accordingly.

The navigator mentioned how the fireweed here looked very summery. In fact everything here looked very summery. There was just the faintest tinge of yellow on some leaves of the broad leaf trees. For the most part it looked like summer. This is LOTOR which rhymes with motor. It is the “ love of the open road” or “lure of the open road” that draws us away from our comfortable home and friends in Coldspring. Lotor is what causes us to motor.

It used to be that General Motors advertised its' Chevrolet with the jingle, “see the USA in a Chevrolet” which was appealing to the lotor in all of us. Now that it is Government Motors Corp the writer is not sure how the slogan would go over. Unfortunately if one sets out to see the USA in a Chevrolet today what one will be looking at is the land of the O, O and O, the overtaxed, over burdened and oppressed.

This stretch of road is good enough to allow our normal cruising speed but reminds me of a song “Patches”.

We stopped for fuel at Contact Creek. We took on two hundred fifty liters at a dollar ten a liter. That was with a volume discount of two cents per liter. For the six hundred two miles we had traveled since last fueling and adjusting for generator time we figured we had averaged a little over nine miles to the gallon.

The land in and around Contact Creek was very dry. Talking to the owner of the station there he related that this is one of the driest summers in the twenty eight years since he moved here from Florida. He was down at the Liard River, which is behind his property, where his fishing hole is. In normal years the water covers the hole in a gravel bed. This year he walked out and stood in the hole. The summer rains never developed, and that, plus the fact that little snow had fallen last winter made for a low river and dry ground. In addition it has been very warm, ninety one degrees last Sunday, so that is making things even drier. It cooled off a bit but he is expecting warm weather again by middle of the week. We had arrived at just the right time for cool weather.

South of Contact Creek, there was a big wood bison bull laying by the side of the road, sunning.

He is one of approximately two hundred fifty wood bison in the herd. Wood bison are considered endangered by the Canadian government. The herd roams between Contact Creek and Ft Nelson to the south. We usually see several on the way up as well as on the way back. Last year on this stretch of road there were twenty of the wood bison killed by vehicles. The poster where I read about the number of wood bison killed by motor vehicles had no mention of how many people were killed in the collisions. Knowing the size of the animals it would be hard to envision no one being killed in twenty motor vehicle accidents however the government poster doesn't mention people, only animals. A couple miles further along we saw another bull, up grazing.

Lunch was served out of Contact Creek. Guess what we had, half a bell pepper stuffed with salmon salad for the driver and a salmon salad sandwich for the navigator.

Now we were entering the foot hills of the Rockies. The fireweed was all bloomed out here. We were also facing some rather heavy looking clouds which were showing rain further down the road. Even as we spoke the drizzle started on an interesting part of the Al-Can. We were negotiating a nine percent grade, made just a touch slick by the moisture.

To our right we were passing the rapids on the Liard River. The rapids are always visible but today the giant rocks that have caused white water in the past are high and dry. Still rapids remain but they are in what is more like a creek that a river. The river is probably six feet below normal. This of course will fuel the argument for people who run about with their hands in the air crying climate change, climate change, much as chicken little did after the acorn fell on her head and she thought the sky was falling. The sky was not falling but certainly the climate is changing. The writer is not sure that is any great reason for alarm. Climate change has been going on as long as the earth has been here.

One only has to go back eighty years to see the dust bowl in Oklahoma. Go back a few hundred years and one sees the mini ice age in Europe while the Vikings were growing grapes on Greenland as well as farming and raising cattle there and in New Found Land. Climate change is a given, for thinking educated people, and I would suggest that for our government or any government to tax the people in the name of trying to impede or stop climate change makes as much sense as it does to tax those who live near the ocean to stop the ebb and flow of tides and the erosion caused by it. That makes just as much sense. Who in their right mind would think climate is static and never changes? The only people who would buy into that are those who have never read any history. Instead they listen to the demagogues, government and scientists with their smoke and mirror science who rant and rave about climate change and continue to refuse to acknowledge that climate change is as old as the earth itself.

Climates change and so do attitudes. We passed Whirlpool Canyon where a public boat launch has been located for years and has been used by all comers, for free. Now local Indians have placed a locked chain across the ramp and say they no longer want white men on their river. They don't own the land and certainly don't own the river but feel they can find a sympathetic judge who will give them the land as they have been wronged for hundreds of years by the government and white men. The owner of the station at Contact Creek related this story to the writer. Neither of them know of any Indians over a hundred years old and those protesting have eaten at the public trough since birth. If they have been wronged by white people it is by the fact that they haven't been required to become self supporting and gain a modicum of self respect. Liberal judges who listen to such protestations and other similar tommyrot will be the ruination of Canada and the USA.

Here forty miles south of Contact Creek the rain arrived as we were crossing Coal River which was running full and deep when we came up. Now it is running shallow and narrow. It empties into the Liard. The Liard looks half empty with gravel bars exposed in the middle of the river as well as having big gravel banks on either side.

Twenty miles from Liard Hot Springs we saw a wood bison bull crossing the road in front of us. We stopped for a picture.

When the picture was taken the bull was on the navigator's side.

A stone's throw down the road we saw yet another young bull bison. The writer thinks the older bulls chase these youngsters out of the herd to eliminate competition for breeding rights. These young bulls will have to mature before they can challenge the old bulls. Sounds kind of like a modern day work place to the writer.

The navigator saw a white tail deer but we got no picture because it ran into the woods to quickly. It is quite likely it heard of the navigator's expertise with a .30-.30.

Certainly we were in the wood bison range and now we were next to a herd of wood bison. There were twenty four by count of the navigator, about a tenth of the overall herd. A large cow had on what looked like a tracking collar.

She is probably the lead cow.

A small flock of Canadian geese were feeding in a dry pond next to the road. It looked like a mature pair and their offspring, eight to ten young ones.

Eighty seven mile south of Contact Creek we turned off the road and entered Liard Hot Springs Park. The weather was perfect for a soak, fifty eight degrees and partly cloudy. We parked, donned our bathing suits and went to soak away the kinks. Forty five minutes later we were headed back to the coach in fifty four degrees and rain.

We said farewell, for this year, to the hot springs at four thirty. We felt we had a long way to go and a short time to get there.

Back on the road we were crossing the Liard again, the last time this trip, Traffic was one lane on the bridge as the north bound side was under repair.

The name of the road was still “Patches” and they are none too good at that. We were on one of the last vestiges of the old highway, here in B.C. It was twisting turning, up and down hills on the multi-patched road with lots of sharp, almost blind curves. The climbs up the hills were steep and the declines were steep as well and just for good measure there were signs for falling rock on the road. We were managing twenty five to thirty five miles an hour as we felt those were the safest speeds for the conditions. At least the rain had stopped and the sun was out. The road was shades of the Yukon. Somehow the driver had forgotten about this stretch of road but then he tries to forget bad things.

On the bad road we were entering Muncho Lake Provincial Park. We would be here a while as it is a good sized park. Usually stone sheep are seen if nothing else. Here in the park it's still open range as signs advise us of loose gravel patches. One had to wonder if they would wander into our path. We had been driving next to the Trout River for quite some time when we crossed it nearing Muncho Lake. The lake came into view at five thirty. It still had a beautiful color even tho it seemed to be down a foot or eighteen inches. A dead caribou lay just off the road just south of Muncho Lake. A live caribou ran across the road in front of us at Muncho Creek. On the navigator's side it paused long enough for her to snap a picture.

Our plan for the day had been to stop at Toad River and get showers but we were poised to go through some areas where there is a lot of wild life. Since we are not early risers and don't usually drive late, we have opted to drive on through Stone Mountain Provincial Park in hopes of seeing bears and then boon dock again tonight. Sure enough a little farther along we saw a cow moose and calf drinking out of the bar ditch.

Then we crossed the beautiful Toad River. A sign cautioned us that caribou may be on the road. We took a wait and see attitude.

We left Muncho Lake Provincial Park behind at six fifteen and passed Toad River RV Park. As decided, we were driving on. The decision not to stay at Toad River RV Park may have been very providential as it looked as though the park was full. Had we been set on staying here our minds and bodies would have been winding down, preparing for sleep which would have been denied as there would have been no room. In case the reader is wondering why we didn't call ahead like smart travelers do the answer is simple. There is no cell phone service here or anywhere close.

Just past the RV park the driver saw a cow elk standing behind a low limb. As we slowed for a picture she spooked and went into the trees. Try to imagine a cow elk behind a limb as we got no picture.

The navigator spotted mule deer; a doe and two fawns. The doe and one fawn spooked into the brush but the navigator was able to capture one of the fawns on the memory card of the digital camera.

Just taking our time and easing thru at thirty to thirty five miles an hour we looked for more animals as we don't get the opportunity very often.

The road here was really bad, twisty and turning with an unbelievably bad surface. It was just as well we were taking our time.

Crossing the Racing River we rode on an open deck bridge.

The motor coach occupants stayed on their toes looking for animals. We truly believe that just around the next curve we may see some and there are lots of curves in this road.

Then the road ran straight for a few hundred yards and in front of us was the Stone Mountain Range.

Mountain is all rock, no snow.

Beautiful with the sun shining on the top.

The Stone Mountain Range lies within the Stone Mountain Provincial Park where we arrived at seven. Onie saw one lone stone sheep, a ram, where we usually see a lot. We thought it was too late for them and they probably had already gone to bed.

Just past the sheep sighting we saw three caribou, one a calf, eating salt off road.

The caribou moved fast as we got closer.

Then they slowed for a picture from the driver's side.

A little further ahead, we slowed for another picture of two caribou.

Our decision to drive on and our alertness were being rewarded. Three hundred yards down the road there were two more caribou eating salt off the road. You guessed it. We never tire of seeing wild animals.

Summit Lake is in Stone Mountain Provincial Park and was frozen almost completely over on the way up. Now there was no ice, as one would expect and nowhere in any direction was there any snow visible. Next to Summit Lake is a provincial park. Once upon a time we stayed there. In recent years it had been almost empty each time we passed by but now it had a lot of rigs in it; a lot more than we have seen in a long time.

Crossing the Tetsa River we noticed it looked more like a creek than a river.

Just past the river there was a nice white tail doe on Onie's side between the bar ditch and tree line but we were unable to get a picture. Whitetail deer get very nervous anytime the navigator points anything at them and well they should. She is an excellent shot. There were signs of lots of beaver activity and many large beaver ponds on both side of the road.

Twenty minutes south of Stone Mountain Provincial Park at eight twenty and thirty five hundred feet elevation in Steamboat Summit we turned into a large pullout, let the Cummins idle a few minutes, to cool her, and then switched her off. The odometer read one hundred eleven thousand six hundred forty two miles, we covered three hundred fifty one miles today. The thermometer read forty eight. We would need no air conditioning tonight.

We ate the last of our butternut lettuce in our salad tonight. Onie had done a good job cutting, cleaning and packing it as it was just as crisp tonight as it was the first night.

Bedtime came at ten. An extra blanket was placed on the bed and it was needed, as it was cold.

SHERK'S

Monday, August 23

Forty two at two was the temp. We were sure it dipped into the thirties before dawn as the night was crystal clear with a bright harvest moon hanging low on the horizon.

The driver braved the cold coach at seven and started the furnace before going back to bed. When the house was warm at eight the navigator and driver got out of bed and had coffee and tea. Steel cut oats followed and showers followed the oats. Trash was taken out and the coach readied for travel.

The Marlin was set in motion at nine forty under bright sunshine and fifty degrees.

Last night we made a long climb to get to the summit where we spent the night. This morning we made a long eight percent grade descent. It was marked by switchbacks and mountains on every side that had nothing but green trees on them. We were still on the same road as yesterday, Patches.

The fireweed there was in its final stages with little fuzzy tops which I think are seed carriers like dandelions have. Once the fuzzies are gone the plant is not long for this world but will come up again next year in same spot from roots left over from this year.

Here the speed limits was one hundred kilometers per hour. That is roughly sixty five miles an hour. We were not doing that but we were pushing our driving speeds as we had something over four hundred miles to go to get to Sherk's, in Valley View. Sherk's is one of our favorite campgrounds. We want to take that long awaited long long hot shower and maybe do a wash so we were pushing our speed to see if we could get to Sherk's before we and the Cummins rested again.

We were further south and east and the valleys were now sporting good sized farms with round bales of hay and herds of cattle and horses. A small flock of geese fed in newly hayed field as we drove on by. The area appeared to be fairly prosperous with big houses, big farm buildings and lots of big equipment.

We thought and hoped the roads should improve as we headed further south. There should be fewer weather related problems.

Ft. Nelson came into view at ten thirty. For the last few miles there had been water in the ditches and pastures with the side roads being muddy. There in Ft Nelson water was also standing as it was when we passed on to the downside of Ft Nelson. There had been much needed rain in a large area.

South of Ft Nelson, Shell has a large operation and the navigator remarked that it looked like we were back in civilization. There were lots of power lines, houses, businesses, chemical plants, wood mills and dense population which we hadn't seen since leaving Tok. Then we felt we were back amongst the people. Another sign of civilization was passed, a rodeo arena. That would be for Ft Nelson. Spectra has a big complex here also. It has a nice clean looking operation with a beautiful landscaped entry and roadside. Like most of the plants here about, the road is good in front of it. The plants must pay to maintain the road or have stroke to get good roads.

We were now three hundred miles from Contact Creek with two hundred seventy miles to go to Dawson Creek which is beginning of the Al-can. Our hopes were to be there sometime today and pass on thru.

The good road that started at Spectra continued for several miles. We figured if it held, which it wouldn't, it would be no problem for a stepper to get to Sherk's today. With or without a good road we intended to end our drive day at Sherk's.

Canadian road builders do not seem to have it within themselves to have a smooth transition from the road to a bridge. It seemed there was always a good bump up or down going onto or getting off their bridges. At fifty or sixty miles an hour in a coach it is enough to jar ones eye teeth out.

After the better part of an hour we lost our good road, as we thought would happen, and had three miles of rough road followed by four miles of slide area.

Apparently young black bears don't like slide areas either because one ran across the the road in front of us as we passed though that area. He was moving too fast for a picture.

The dash heater hadn't run all day. It was the first day since we left Castaway that we hadn't needed it. The bright sunshine kept us warm. In fact we drove with a window open for a while and then the dash vent.

The good road was just a memory when we got to fourteen miles of very dusty gravel road. We had to go slow in consideration of our rear radiator and couldn't have a window open or dash vent open so we switched on the dash air. We had known the bad road was coming and most likely would feature a pilot car as we would meet a big clump of traffic and then no traffic at all. That is almost a sure sign of a pilot car in our near future. At twelve fifteen we were with the pilot car, easing along and hoping for the best, munching on graham crackers spread with almond butter, for a snack. In front of us was a wet muddy road, sure to cause a radiator problem if we drove too fast, with a maintainer further ahead working on the road bed. There was no clear lane for us to travel but we could see vehicles in the distance raising a cloud of dust. That dry dust coupled with the wet mud would cake like concrete on the radiator and charge air. Somewhere down the road we will have to take time to remove it. We were hoping for maybe only a few hundred feet of wet road followed by the dry road.

At last we were out of the pilot car area and construction. The dash air was turned off and the dash vent reopened.

After the construction the road became moderately good so we could make fifty nine miles per hour.

A young bull moose was having lunch on the navigators side. We stopped to watch him dine and then snapped him for posterity.

Bull moose are rarely seen along the highway. We enjoyed this sight.

Rocking Horse river has been relegated to the level of a wading stream. The driver thinks it would be possible to wade the whole thing and not get your ankles wet.

From the Rocking Horse we began a long eight percent descent down to the Sikaini River. Climbing away from the Sikaini we had a longer grade which varied from six to nine percent.

At the top of the grade was a pullout. We pulled in, at one twenty. A few moments later the driver had lunch on the table, watermelon.

Fifteen minutes later we were rolling again under sunny fifty nine degree skies but clouds were starting to move in.

As we said earlier we were getting into civilization but suffice it to say that for the most part, since we left Tok and we are on our fifth day here, we have have not had cell phone service for an hour. Total.

A sign announced that we were coming into Wonowon, not a big place but someplace on the

Alaskan Highway. For Wonowon they want you to slow down. There are four, maybe five, street lights, a good size highway maintenance yard, one business that sells gas, housing for road workers, a repair garage and a handful of houses but one must still slow down.

The woods we were traveling through were mixed alder, aspen, pine and fir. It was easy to pick out the pine because the pine bark beetle has arrived here and dead pine trees were scattered everywhere. When the fire starts, and it will start at sometime, it will burn a long time and a long way.

Wind has been an almost constant companion since we left Castaway and it has traveled with us again today.

Thirty miles from Ft St John we saw another big deer but got no picture

.

The city limit sign for Ft St John was passed at three thirty.

We pulled into the Safeway to shop for groceries and get fuel.

Safeway and the fuel bar were left behind at five. It had been sixty eight degrees there, we had pumped one hundred twenty liters of fuel at three twenty nine per gallon.

We were in too much civilization. There was five o' clock traffic as far as the eye could see. It was way too much traffic, especially for someone who has been in Alaska. What was needed was fewer people and fewer cars.

Out of Ft St John and through Taylor, a bedroom community of Ft St John, we crossed the Peace River. It was way down with one of two boat launches out of the water. Off the bridge it was a long nine percent grade out of the river valley.

On top again we were headed south. We passed a beige field of sun dried barley just south of Ft St John. We were not sure we had ever seen that before. British Columbia is known for canola and flax seed oil exports as well as a big cash crop of Mary Jane.

Dawson Creek was arrived at five fifty. We were now at mile 0 of the Alaskan Highway.

We lost an hour when we came into Alberta. It might have been the same hour we found when we came up this summer.

Usually we take the bypass around Grand Prairie but we missed it this time. Driving through town we passed Wal-Mart at eight twenty five local time. We stayed there once.

Out of Grand Prairie at eight fifty we took Forty Three east to Valley View and Sherk's.

We had sixty three miles to go. There was a full moon again tonight like last night. Tonight high clouds are playing tag with the moon, half covering it then opening up only to wrap it up again. The miles were passing by, we had forty five more minutes to Sherk's. The moon and the clouds were still playing tag. We were waiting to see what happened. We would know the winner before we got to Sherk's.

When we pulled into the campground at ten local time, nine leave time, it was obvious the moon had won as there was not a cloud to be seen, anywhere.

Today we had come four hundred fifty nine miles and the total mileage on the coach was one hundred twelve thousand one hundred twenty seven.

Hooking us to the land lines was accomplished with the aid of a flashlight.

The navigator was in bed by eleven and the driver followed her, after reading, at twelve.

VARIOUS AND SUNDRY

Tuesday, August 24

Having made the decision last evening to make today a day of rest, recuperation, cleaning, washing, cooking and various and sundry other things we slept in.

Onie got up around nine and the writer stretched and rose about ten. Onie handed him a cup of Chai tea as he put his feet on the floor. Both were greeted with brilliant sunshine, a light breeze and an almost cloudless sky.

He could hear the oven heating and figured hot biscuits and sausage would be their breakfast. Of course there was the tea and coffee as well as the homemade preserves.

After breakfast the driver took another long shower. He dressed in a tee shirt and shorts. The temp was already up to sixty three. His shower was followed by Onie's. She dressed in Capri pants and a tee shirt. The day would be warm. While she showered the driver stripped the bed and gathered towels from the bathroom and kitchen.

A quick walk to the office resulted in the knowledge that it is closed from noon to four each day so it was back to the coach.

He began the chore of flushing the holding tanks. This involves running lots of water through each holding tank on a repeated basis until the inside gauges read “empty”. Sometimes this can be achieved in half an hour and other times the goal seems impossible to reach. Onie was inside “spotting” the floor. Our carpets look very good for being nine years old but it is only because the navigator stays after the spots.

A jar of smoked salmon was retrieved from the basement for Onie. She will add some to the salmon salad that will be our lunches in the days to come. She was also cooking spaghetti sauce which we will have some evenings along with our salads.

When four o'clock rolled around the driver went back and registered and paid for two nights, got some change for the laundry and headed back to the coach.

At the coach he and Onie gathered up the laundry and headed off to the laundromat. Washers were started and then it was time to head back to the coach.

Half a baked yam was enjoyed by each of us as a snack, something to tide us over until supper time. Both being from the south we have supper, not dinner.

Each of the coach occupants spent time during the day on the web checking email. The driver made a couple of phone calls that were prompted by email.

All day long the automatic overhead vent fan, set on seventy degrees, ran. It was hot. At five thirty it was still seventy three degrees.

By then Onie was working on the floors, again, and the driver was pecking out this story.

Trips were made back and forth to the laundry to check on the clothes and eventually fold them and bring them home to be stored.

Onie had prepared a good salad and spaghetti and meat sauce for supper, We sat down to eat at eight. It was seventy three degrees. The overhead fan still ran.

After supper the navigator cleaned the kitchen while the writer checked his email one more time before turning to the serious business of taking notes off the recorder. There were one hundred eleven voice memos to be transcribed. He began.

Onie retired to the bedroom to read. At eleven she turned off the light and went to sleep.

The writer kept listening and pecking. By midnight he had transcribed all the notes from the last two days.

Finishing this story at twelve thirty he went to bed.

Tomorrow will be a big drive day, something over four hundred miles. Hopefully the name of the road will change.

ALBERTA/SASKATCHEWAN?

Wednesday, August 25

It rained a good part of the night but stopped before daylight and was fifty at two thirty this morning.

The editor was up at eight and spent an hour and half on week thirteen before she woke the driver at nine fifteen to check the week so it could be posted before we left.

Breakfast was ready, cornbread, bacon, homemade preserves. The driver had Steens Pure Cane, open kettle, syrup on his cornbread. The editor had Ruby's fig preserves. Chai tea, Coffee, and Tuscan melon rounded out the meal. The navigator made a pot of hot tea for later in the morning.

The breakfast dishes were cleared away by ten thirty. Outside it was sunny and fifty six.

We were moving again at eleven twenty under bright sunny skies. We would have been on the road at eleven but we got delayed by a guy from southern Alberta. He is an oil field hand and was interested in Texas hunting and fishing. He loves birds and would like to go to Alaska. He said they drill a lot of shallow wells around Ft St John and bring in good grade crude and sweet gas. There is no sour gas and almost every well drilled comes in. There are lots of oil and gas deposits there. He opined that western Canada and the western US, with exception of California, should make a new nation. They would let the liberal easterners starve to death trying to feed the world and all the folks who won't work, Indians in Canada, as well as all the starving animals. There would be no liberal judges and no weak kneed panty waisted individuals who cry over those less fortunate.

The idea would be to let everyone work including those on welfare who could keep the roadsides clean and pass drug tests to get their checks. It sounded like he had been reading my mail. Then he talked about “wildies”. These are wild horses, not mustangs, descendants of horses turned loose generations ago when folks couldn't afford to feed them. Now they are inbred and ugly, feral horses that deprecate farms and crops. They should be controlled but the animal rights folks cry about the poor horses and their rights. The “wildies” should go to the east with the liberals. They also have a problem with feral hogs but the hogs are protected and do a lot of damage. He was fed up with bleeding hearts and wanted to live among realists and people with common sense, which is not so common. The United Western States would be the richest most powerful nation in the world and control vast amounts of energy. There would be no welfare, no reparations, etc, as those deserving are all dead and their kids and grand kids didn't earn it so they don't get it. Everyone would work or they don't eat. It was the same story second verse that we have heard from other western Canadians. It sounded like a plan to me.

We got on the four lane headed southeast and turned on the individual fans in the coach as well as opening the outside vent and running the dash blower. We felt we would probably have the dash AC running by one.

The navigator says we have four lane divided highway all the way to Saskatoon which is where we are headed.

We will stop in Edmonton for fuel. If we see a truck wash we will stop and wash out the radiator and charge air.

From the looks of things around Valley View if you don't work for oil field trash you are either a farmer, you don't have a job, or you are a merchant and the merchants are supported by the oil field trash. The oil field/energy industry is so big here it supports everything. Sherk's had several rigs that are seasonal. All of them are workers in the energy industry. It is the primary business in this part of the country.

We passed a huge farm with hundreds of big round bales of hay, quite a bit of winter wheat and sun dried barley as well. The farmer is working to feed the oil field trash.

Half an hour into the drive we were on seamless smooth asphalt. We were in the high rolling wooded hills of Alberta. It reminded us of home. The mixed forest held alder, aspen, pine and spruce. One big difference between here and Coldspring was the numerous signs telling us to watch for moose. We watched but we didn't see.

The traffic there was moderately heavy, a sign of civilization and another sure sign of civilization was the paved turn outs filled with cattle trucks.

We accomplished most of what we wanted to get done yesterday. Onie did a really good job of getting rid of dust in the bedroom. The whole coach was dusty inside but the bedroom was the worst. She also really cleaned the bathroom and cooked for the next several days. We got the wash done and the clean clothes put away. The driver flushed the tanks and took on more fresh water. He got all the notes off the recorder. As mentioned earlier we got week thirteen posted and got some rest. The outside of the coach was still quite dirty, crusted with dirt and mud on lower portions and bugs on the front

Yesterday is completely written so when I get to week fifteen that won't have to be written.

We were in pretty good shape. We could boon dock the next several days if the weather cooperated but we will have to go to parks if it gets too hot.

We continued to pass tank farms both large and small, gas pumping stations and large installations of electrical transformers. There are numerous power lines to support the burgeoning population and industry. All the while we are still seeing signs warning us to watch for moose. The nickname for the highway is “Moose Row”. We really don't expect to see moose, today.

It was almost as if we were traveling on Interstate Twenty in the lower forty eight with its divided lanes, rolling hills, lots of truck traffic and pickups. Most of the vehicles are American brands and fancy horse trailers with living quarters, abound. People are hauling hay and there were RVs, most shiny nice and clean. Occasionally a dirty pickup was seen. It had been off the road like those in Texas working at the deer lease. One big difference is it is sixty degrees here and probably one hundred on Highway Twenty.

We just crossed a pretty little creek that might have been named by the late, great comic, . W.C. Fields.

That's right, the name of the creek is Chickadee.

The first rest area on this stretch of road was passed. It was wide and paved, divided for cars and trucks, had rest rooms and was lighted. It was vastly different from the ones we stayed at in the Yukon which were narrow, large gravel and all vehicles were together and they had very large respectable potholes. They also had chemical outhouses which we didn't use.

We were in Whitecourt at one fifteen looking for an IGA or Safeway to shop for fresh produce. We found the Whitecourt IGA at one twenty and were on our way again twenty five minutes later. On the road again we could tell we were further south. Bugs were pretty prolific here and we were doing our part to control the population. We had accumulated several hundred of them on the front of the coach and windshield.

Two o'clock found the navigator in her kitchen fixing lunch. The reader would probably be surprised to know the driver was having half a bell pepper stuffed with salmon salad and the navigator was having a salmon salad sandwich. The driver was surprised as his lunch started with an orange. The bell pepper followed with ice tea. It was water for the navigator.

A little after three, thirty miles west of Edmonton, we were on Highway Sixteen also known as The Yellowhead. The road is six lanes divided but the surface here was not near as good as was the surface on Forty Three. We had no more than entered Edmonton city limits than the traffic slowed to a crawl for construction.

Eventually we got to the Flying J at four fifteen. The driver stepped out into eighty two degree air to start pumping the fuel, clean the windshield and the front of the coach. Fuel consumption on this leg had averaged nine point seven miles per gallon. With the front of the coach clean we applied Saran Wrap to it. The idea was to keep the bugs off the coach and on the wrap.

Moving again at ten minutes to five in seventy nine degrees we felt the need for the dash air. We turned it on and felt much better.

Nineteen miles out of Edmonton on the south side of the road was a bison ranch and a big beaver lodge in a small lake. The lake looked nasty, probably oil from the beavers.

We had seen no animals today but we have seen a fair number of ducks.

Near Mundare there were lots of gentle rolling hills covered with grain that appeared almost ready to be harvested. What wasn't grain appeared to be alfalfa and what was not alfalfa was good pasture land with an occasional wood lot thrown in for good measure.

We were thirty five to forty miles from Saskatchewan and passing mostly grasslands and gently rolling hills. A few trees grow around the farmsteads.

We entered Loydminster, Alberta at seven ten. Or we might have been in Loydminster, Saskatchewan for all we knew since the city lies in both provinces. From all the equipment one saw it looked like this is the town that oil built and probably maintains and is the life blood of everything. Everywhere one looked there was oil field equipment.

At seven thirty we eased into the Wal-Mart parking lot. Four other rigs were already in for the night. We joined them. It was seventy nine degrees.

The driver took off notes while the navigator fixed salad and spaghetti for supper at eight. The local time was nine.

When supper was over the writer finished taking off notes. Onie went to bed with a book. The writer went to bed at ten.

Outside it was sixty seven.

The odometer read one hundred twelve thousand four hundred eighty one miles. We had come four hundred eighty one miles from Sherk's.

HOT

Thursday, August 26

Both of us rose at eight. Outside we could see eleven rigs around us sitting in the bright sunshine morning in the fifty seven degree air. There was a nice breeze from the south.

We ran the generator to make coffee, Chai tea and regular tea. Notes were made while the tea brewed and when the notes were completed a little writing took place while Onie fixed breakfast.

It was a quick morning and we were on the road again at a quarter to nine. The outside temp was a pleasant sixty degrees.

We were peddling east into the sun and a strong headwind.

Whether we had slept in Alberta or Saskatchewan we weren't sure but once we had traveled a bit from Wal-Mart we were sure we were in Saskatchewan. The landscape, didn't change. There were still long rolling hills interspersed with a few trees. Some of the trees were volunteers and some were planned and planted as windbreaks. One can only imagine how the winter winds must howl across these plains.

There were many oil storage tanks for individual wells here on the Yellowhead and western Saskatchewan. In fact there were so many they almost outnumbered the trees wherever one looked. In every direction ones eye is greeted by numerous oil storage tanks. This must truly be the land of black gold.

By eleven the dash air was running and the navigator was re-figuring our route. She is planning to take us thirty miles south into Regina so we will have divided highway all the way into Winnipeg. She will be able to drive some.

Coming into Battlefords there were lots of yellow wild flowers. To the driver they looked a lot like daisies.  The fireweed had seen much better days.

We crossed the Saskatchewan River by passing the city of Battlefords but from a distance we could see what looked like a pretty good sized city with a few moderately tall office buildings.

The heavy gusty winds of this morning remained with us making driver stay on his toes.

Outside we were still in farmland east of Battlefords but the prairie was giving way to more trees and the gentle rolling hills were giving away to marginally steeper inclines. Steeper inclines and deeper declines meant larger and more ponds which were holding more waterfowl.

When we crossed the North Saskatchewan River we crossed on a new bridge. The old bridge still stood. The old bridge was still there, abandoned because it is too narrow to accommodate modern vehicles, but still used by folks as a foot bridge. It is a stately structure and has much more eye appeal than the new bridge.

Looming on the eastern horizon was Saskatoon, a big agriculture center. The terrain was as flat as it could be. The local Flying J was entered at eleven thirty. It was eighty two as the driver filled the tank. We had averaged eight point nine two five miles per gallon on this leg. We figured the headwind had taken a toll on the fuel.

Wheels turning again, we had salmon salad for lunch.

On the four lane outside of Saskatoon the Marlin came to a brief stop. The driver became the writer as he surrendered the wheel to the navigator, now driver.

Sitting on the couch the writer finished Monday on week fourteen before giving up on the laptop. With Onie driving and facing the high headwinds the coach was rocking and rolling making key striking a very iffy proposition.

The flame of the refrigerator was blown out time and again as Onie fought the wind. The best we could do for the fridge was to leave it closed to contain what cool it held.

Outside it was eighty seven and as hot as a Saturday nite special.

The driver said she had seen signs indicating we should watch for moose and deer but it doesn't look like the country for either. There are long rolling hills and not many trees. Deer might live here but they must be sparse.

Passing thru Chamberlain we thought it was a small farming town and the land around it looked a whole like like Wyoming or Montana with deep gorges that were grassy filled.

Pulled into a turnout in Chamberlain we switched drivers. The navigator had logged ninety eight miles.

While we were in the pullout the writer checked to see if there was a problem with the refrigerator. The small shield that blocks wind from the flame area had moved a bit. It was put back in place. We would see if fridge stayed lit now.

The day was really heating up. Ninety two degrees met us going into Regina. On the long grade going into the city the dirty radiator caught up with us. The engine temp got over two hundred. That much heat couldn't be tolerated for too long. Not seeing a car wash to accommodate us we stopped at a Husky truck stop. They directed us back three miles to an industrial truck/car wash. We headed back to wash out the radiator and charge air.

At the car wash the driver pulled in behind a dump truck to wait for the bay. It looked like the truck was almost clean as new, already, and the bay would be available any moment. The driver of the truck didn't think so and continued another forty five minutes washing off imaginary dirt and grime. After each rinse his hand held magnifying glass revealed yet another microscopic particle of dirt and he was off on a mission to eradicate it. He was to have the cleanest dump truck in the world. When he was finished, at last, he drove though a puddle of standing water. We pulled into the bay very quickly to prevent him from backing up and starting another odyssey of washing.

While we had been patiently waiting on the anal trucker we called about the voice mail on our phones.

Brandy, with AT&T International, worked on Onie's phone and with a shot from afar managed to kill it. She had us turn it off but then it wouldn't reboot. She tried and tried but couldn't get it working again. Finally she promised to have someone call me tomorrow at ten.

We left the car wash at five. Inside the wash with the spray flying it was comfortable but outside the ninety eight degrees was cooking us.

Back on the road the temp gauge said we did a good job. The Cummins was running at normal temp once again.

It seemed like we had a bad pulley on the compressor for the dash air as we heard a squealing when we got out to wash the radiator. Perhaps we can get it fixed tomorrow in Winnipeg.

With the heat unrelenting we began running the generator and front roof air conditioner a little before six.

By six thirty we were heading east south east and and long shadows were in front of the coach. Evening was coming.

By seven forty five we were in a park in Moosemin and hooked up. We had the roof air running promptly. Mosquitoes were in attendance by the thousands as the driver hooked up the land lines. Our neighbors from up state New York were accustomed to pests, being represented by empty headed liberals, and were anxious to visit, despite the bugs. They were headed for Banff and Yellowstone and were interested in any information we might have about the places. The drive offered a little info and then begged Alzheimer's and went in to a supper of salad and spaghetti.

By the time supper was over it was nine thirty local time. The roof air was running on high as we retired.

FREIGHTLINER

Friday, August 27

Tradition dies hard and the tradition of Onie rising first seems it will never die. She was up at eight. The writer followed at eight thirty.

Outside the sun shone through sixty two degree air.

Inside the coffee and Chai tea tasted very good.

Onie showered while the writer took off yesterday's notes and then it was his turn while she prepared breakfast, egg, ham and biscuits along with preserves.

We left our site behind at ten. It was still sixty two but the sun had succumbed to clouds.

We had removed the battery, with much difficulty, from the navigator's cell phone, left it off a while and then put it back on. When we tried turning the phone back on it had found found new life and she could get to her voice mail. When time permits we will try mine and see if I can retrieve voice mail.

We went eastbound on Sixteen. Canadian geese were flying overhead.

Soon we left Sixteen in favor of Highway One and headed for Manitoba arriving at ten thirty. For those readers with such devices radar is illegal in Manitoba. Entering Manitoba we lost another hour. Instead of ten fifty is was eleven fifty.

The Lord is blessing us with cooler air so we may be able to tough it out until we get the dash air fixed

Manitoba is spending sixty two million dollars to improve this highway and we were riding on some of it.

South of us was a huge grain elevator as well as a big chemical processing plant.

We were two thousand seven hundred twenty five miles from Castaway at noon.

The highway here is four lane divided and a very nice road. To our right is a railroad. Sometimes the median is full of trees separating us from oncoming traffic and either side of the road is tree lined. There are no big live oaks as in Texas but nice sized trees were making for a beautiful drive.

We talked to Mike Richardson at Castaway and he said Marguerite's white sox (no seeum) bite is completely healed and her bronchitis is gone. She is enjoying good health again. They have had five gorgeous days of sunshine since we left but today the rain is back and it is cooler. The pinks are coming in and he had a batch in brine to smoke. He is done fishing for the season as he has all the fish he can take home for a reasonable amount of money. Sidney and Barbara, Jay and Kay, Dixie and Chelsie are the only people left in camp. The weekenders, Donnie and Julie, maybe Dennis and Sandy, possibly Mark and KC may be coming in soon but most of the time only Donnie and Julie show up. It is possible that Les and Wendy may show also, who knows?

We called Brandon Freightliner to see if they could help with the dash air. They were covered up until next Monday and that was not an option for us. They gave me the number of Freightliner in Winnipeg. We called them. They will have a look at it when we get there in about three hours. Cummins advised they work on engines only. It will be Freightliner in Winnipeg for air conditioning help.

Our hopes for a quick trip into Winnipeg were dampened outside of Brandon by eastbound construction for the next twenty five miles.

Again we saw signs to watch for elk. Elk would like this country. Elk were plains animals originally and they only went to the mountains to get away from people and eventually they went to the highest of the high. They come down in the winter when deep snow reduces the amount of food or totally eliminates it. Hunger drives them down, not a desire to be close to man. We were also warned to watch for deer the next fifteen kilometers or nine miles and it looked like prime deer country.

The eastbound construction turned out to be nothing more than shoulder work and one place where they were excavating to put in a new culvert. West bound there was several miles that had been resurfaced. We were riding over something quite bumpy.

Seventy miles west of Winnipeg on Highway One we were passing thru Austin. Many readers will think we were in Texas if we were in Austin but here we are in Austin, Manitoba. There is an Ag museum here. Many of the farming communities in Canada have Ag museums. We haven't stopped at one but can imagine if they took all the farm equipment from past years, drug it out of the fields, put it in a building and simply hung signs on it describing the equipment and its age they would have a museum.

The consensus of many people is “you can't fix stupid,” as displayed on the side of an oilfield truck here and he spells it stoopid. This could very well be seen in Texas. We know ignorance can be corrected with education but stupid can't be fixed.

Lots of strong gusty wind from the south accompanied us as we drove toward Winnipeg. Again the strong winds are keeping the burner on the refrigerator from staying lit. The driver estimated the winds to be in the twenty five to thirty five mile per hour range and when we stopped, even briefly, the refrig would stay lit.

At Portage La Prairie they were advertising A&W, DQ and lots of other US fast foods meaning they are truly American, not US.

Highway One in Manitoba is also known as the Yellowhead.

At three ten we stopped to call Freightliner in Winnipeg to get directions to their shop.

We passed the Winnipeg city limits sign at three thirty, turned on to One Oh One North, the loop, and passed the horse track.

Close to four we were sitting in the customer lounge of Freightliner hoping work would commence soon on our rig. Half an hour later it did. The driver walked out to check on the progress. The idler pulley was loose. That had been the squeaking noise. The unit had only half a pound of freon in it instead of the three and half it requires to operate properly. That in addition to the loose belt accounted for lack of cooling and in addition the fan over the condenser was not cycling. The driver and tech found a frayed wire, near the generator, and the tech repaired it. The condenser fan came on, ran fine and the air coming out of the dash was fifty nine degrees. When we are moving it should be even cooler. We left Freightliner at eight thirty and headed back to the Flying J we had passed earlier. Trying to take a short cut we wandered about town for quite sometime traveling about thirty miles and seeing parts of Winnipeg we hadn't bargained for.

Resting in Flying J at a quarter to ten the odometer read one hundred thirteen thousand two hundred three miles. It had been a long day.

We were tired. We had some snacks and went to bed.

ALL THREE

Saturday, August 28

We must have rested really well as we were up at twenty minutes to seven.

It was sunny and sixty. Outside we counted ten rigs that spent the night on the parking lot with us.

Verbal notes were made on yesterday and then these notes were made before the writer continued writing on week fourteen.

We had a quick breakfast of cold cereal with blueberries, coffee and Chai tea.

During the pre-drive walk around rain began falling. It was fifty eight.

By nine our wheels were rolling again, through the rain.

After spending the time and money to have the dash air repaired yesterday the dash heater was running this morning. It was chilly in the light rain and the temp was still falling.

It seemed we may have awakened in Texas this morning as we just passed the Red River and now we are seeing a sign for Falcon Lake, one hundred twenty five kilometers away. Falcon, in Texas, is on the border of Texas and Mexico.

Signs of all kinds were seen through our windows as we satisfied our LOTOR. We passed a sign advising us we were at the longitudinal center of Canada. We had been in the western half and now were in the eastern half.

Outside of Winnipeg we got into construction. They were either building or rebuilding a four lane highway. Fortunately, for us, they had the traffic diverted to the newly complete part so we were on new pavement. The construction part was two way traffic instead of one way.

The navigator announced we were approaching a Mennonite heritage village, a place of interest to stop and see. We won't be stopping and we won't be seeing.

Eighty five miles east of Winnipeg we were on a nice divided highway. Again there were lots of trees in the median and we couldn't see on coming traffic.

The rain had stopped and it had warmed up. Now we were running the AC we got fixed yesterday.

A few miles from Ontario Province we saw a big beautiful lake. The geology has changed and where the highway is cut through hills we are seeing solid rock again. Behind us are several hundred miles of cuts through soil with no visible rock. Here there is plenty of rock but even so this part of the country is heavily wooded. There are frequent signs warning of deer. It appears to be excellent deer habitat even though we haven't seen a deer or a sign for moose but it looks like excellent moose habitat also.

One reason we like to travel is to see new things. Sometimes they are educational, sometimes they are just interesting and sometimes they are just the first time we have seen something. Near a weigh station close to the border of Manitoba and Ontario we saw something we had never seen before, a road kill involving a black bear. It looked like it was pretty fresh, maybe this morning. The bear was not huge but probably weighed two hundred pounds or so.

We had been in construction in the last part of Manitoba.

We crossed in to Ontario at eleven ten and it looked like they had completed the construction. The road was nice seamless asphalt.

Passing the welcome sign to Ontario we noticed we were forty three kilometers west of Kenora and three hundred twenty five from Thunder Bay. With a little perseverance we may get there, Thunder Bay, this evening. We will see if it works out. If it does it will be close to a four hundred fifty mile day.

Highway One became Highway Seventeen when we entered Ontario. This highway is designated a scenic highway or should be if it isn't. In western Ontario there are lots of rocky hills with cuts for the highway through the hills. Lakes large and small are on either side of the highway with a few homes scattered here and there. Many of the lakes are unnamed. A light rain fell as we negotiated the winding road and we were being very careful as we tried to watch the road and enjoy the scenic drive.

Since leaving Winnipeg all of the roads had been new to us. We had never been this way before. It was all new territory to us. We had been to Winnipeg where we had turned west but we had not been this far east. We had come up from Michigan to Sault Ste Marie where we turned east but we had not been here.

We took the bypass around Kenora and headed to Thunder Bay. We crossed the Winnipeg River which is a big river by any definition. It was very picturesque with big rock cliffs on the east side and on the west side were lots of nice homes and boat docks. What was missing that would be there in Alaska is all the float planes. We don't recall seeing float planes in Canada and guess that they are much more heavily regulated than in Alaska and as a result there are very few of them.

East of the Winnipeg River, which we crossed again, our road is cut through pink granite which is really pretty rock. We were back into more hilly terrain. It was not mountains but it was certainly hilly.

We were making good long climbs where the coach had to shift down to maintain speed and we hadn't had that for a few hundred miles. The drive continued to be pretty thru Ontario but also continued to be a two lane road. One thing about a two lane road in these hills and terrain is you are pretty much relegated to staying behind people in front of you no matter how slow they go. If they drive forty five you do too. If they drive the speed limit you can to. Patience is the watchword. Take your time and enjoy the scenery. The navigator just spotted a huge white tail doe standing by the trees. My guess is she weighs over two hundred pounds.

It was just before noon and we felt like we had been in good moose habitat for quite a while and just saw a sign to watch for them. We feel vindicated about our knowledge of moose. So far what we had seen of Ontario was lakes, signs for hunting guides, signs for fishing guides, signs for wilderness fly in fishing, RV parks, B&Bs, a few gas bars and that was about it. This part of Ontario is basically a playground. In relationship to the lower forty eight the navigator advised we were due north of Minnesota.

We got into Vermillion Bay at twelve twenty. There was a motel and a tackle shop as well as a few houses.

East of Dryden we were in sheep country. The rolling hills where pastures and trees shared the landscape, equally, sheep grazed contentedly paying us no mind as we passed. There was still a rocky substrata but enough topsoil to support good pastures and hay.

Son David sent up chocolate, he had gotten from a client out around Alpine, while we were at Castaway. Mine was seventy two percent dark chocolate and there were several bars. Knowing that Onie is not as big a chocolate lover as the writer he sent her one bar of her favorite, orange chocolate. She had been very careful with it but the last of it was eaten today. She really enjoyed it. She may eat some of mine but she will miss her's.

Dryden came into view at one. Eight thousand five hundred people reside there and work at the farm implement dealer, service garages, Ford dealer, tire dealers, a Jeep dealer, in two very large buildings and various other businesses. The houses look like they are older but are very well maintained and have neatly landscaped small yards. They buy groceries at a nice IGA and pay considerably higher fuel prices than west of here. Most of the franchise American fast food chains are here as well as Sears.

All three settings on the dash, vent, AC and heat have been used today. At this time we were on vent, heading in under rain clouds. In the rain the temp will drop and we will be back to heat.

We are one hundred fifty to two hundred miles north of Minnesota but are soon going to dip down to Thunder Bay before we start around Lake Superior. At that point we will be less than fifty miles from Minnesota and the western border of Michigan.

We had passed numerous paved or gravel half circles, really small, too small for us, and we wondered what they were and what their purpose could be. Eventually we saw signs indicating these are snow plow turn arounds.

We had both seen fireweed today in good abundance, all bloomed out. Fall was coming to the north country soon.

The navigator had taken the wheel and had bright sunny skies to drive under and a good road surface. There was a bit of a problem though, at least half and maybe seventy percent of all the vehicles she was meeting on the two lane road were eighteen wheelers. She had two to six inch shoulders on the passenger side and then loose gravel. Being in the loose gravel would not be good. When meeting the trucks if one is in their lane and the trucks are in their lane one has about three ft between the vehicles but it looks like one will crash if one has not had a lot of experience. It can be intimidating when the trucks are coming fifty five to sixty miles an hour and your speed is the same. She said the driver doesn't get nervous because after meeting thousands of trucks he is used to it. She was trying for her first thousand. The navigator drove twenty miles of white knuckle time for her. She did very well and just needs more experience. The whole thing was very nerve wracking for her. After the twenty miles she surrendered the wheel to the driver and resumed her duties as navigator.

Behind the wheel the driver turned the dash air on. The navigator broke out afternoon snacks, raisins for her and an orange for the driver.

A way back we had gone through another time change. The driver thought he saw a sign indicating a time change but wasn't sure. There was lots of oncoming traffic and not a lot of time for signs. The navigator checked her maps and verified a time change had taken placed. We had lost another hour.

We would have to check with locals to see if we were on eastern daylight time. We will know in Thunder Bay.

Four hundred miles had been logged by four forty five. The navigator looked at her map. We are definitely now in the eastern time zone. We lost an hour yesterday and now another hour is gone.

We were twenty miles from Thunder Bay on a road that is akin to the Yukon roads. We were traveling twenty five miles an hour and then came up on loose gravel that had been wetted down so it was muddy. That was what we just washed from the radiator two days ago. After several miles of the messy road we got to a nice highway but it didn't last long. It was the new work but not much had been completed.

In the city of Thunder Bay, a community of one hundred ten thousand souls, at six thirty local time, five thirty leave time, we were headed to Wal-Mart. We had been eight hours twenty minutes getting here and had driven four hundred forty miles.

At a lovely Wal-Mart at six forty five, we came to a rest under partly sunny skies that were still eighty eight and a half degrees, warm.

We had cheese and smoked salmon for supper and visited about the day for a while before calling our grandson, Matthew Aaron Blomstrom. He should be a new dad by now.

Matt had some startling news for us. The writer had been sleeping with a Great Grandmother since August twenty fifth. Georgia Nicole Blomstrom was born August twenty fifth at five twenty in the afternoon. She came into the world twenty one and a half inches long and tipped the scales at seven pounds fourteen ounces. Mom, Courtney, dad and the baby are doing fine. She is our first great grand child and her father assures us she is perfect and beautiful. Dad sent pictures via cell phone so we could have our first peek at Georgia.

We look forward to rocking her. In case anyone is wondering this makes son, David, a granddad.

A call was placed to Dawn and we visited while shopping.

Back in the coach at nine we talked to Jim Johnson, our neighbor. A man we had hired before leaving Lake Road came by and took down some dead trees in the yard. Our grass is doing pretty good all things considered, it has been hot and dry and one of five fruit trees we planted in the spring lived, a pear tree. The rest are dead.

By ten we were in bed.

It was seventy two. The temp went down fast with sun. It was fifty at four in the morning.