ONIE DRIVES
Sunday, May 23
The coach rocked and rolled all night long. To an observer it might seem there was a wild party going on inside. In actuality the wild stuff was outside. The wind was blowing like wild banshees and screeching around the Marlin as if they had gone mad. Inside we tried to sleep, waking ever so often to the howling and the rapid beat of the slide covers flapping in the wind.
Shortly before eight we got up.
Outside the sky was overcast once more, and inside Onie made the tea and coffee and started breakfast.
The writer got out a laptop and signed on to the park hot spot and checked the news and his email.
An hour later we had breakfast. Our usual.
Showers followed, Pawpaw wrote while Onie took her’s, then it was time to get ready to travel.
With all the land lines disconnected and holding tanks completely empty we got out of the campground at ten fifteen.
Just down the road we stopped in a large parking lot. The driver, eager to be on the road, had forgotten to tie down the living room slide cover. Last evening he had reduced speed to keep the slide cover from unspooling in the high wind. Today there would be more high wind and a degree of speed would be needed to get to our planned destination so a slide cover that refused to stay in place needed to be tied down. It was done. We gained our lane on the highway, 135N, at ten thirty.
High overhead white puffy clouds scudded by driven by the unending winds.
Our plans were to end the day in Sidney, Nebraska. If we get there we will be about one fourth of the way to Castaway.
Our favorite pianist, Floyd Cramer, serenaded us via a modern marvel, the CD, as we glided over the gently rolling hills. On a passing pond a pair of Canadian geese, the first we had seen, paddled serenely about. One wondered if they would summer here or head on further north to be with their relatives. Perhaps a family spat had made them outcasts and they were doomed to a long hot summer.
A friendly, if brisk, breeze pushed us along, quartering first on one side and then the other.
That same friendly breeze kept the odor, from an immense feed lot we were passing, from reaching our delicate nostrils.
Where the ground was plowed, waiting to be planted, tall grasses or early stem crops were being kissed by the breeze. Where a wind footprint was planted on the grasses, an impression was left, and where the wind kissed the stem crops they dimpled only to recover waiting for the next brush on the cheek. The trees, not to be out done, waved their branches at the hurrying wind.
The trees were most confined to homesteads, creek and river bottoms and fence rows. Birds, after using the seeds from trees had dropped them on the fence lines and from them grew the trees.
Passing under IH70 we continued north. Had we turned west on IH 70 we would have ended up in Denver, a place we never intend to visit again in the coach. The toll road around Denver is outrageously priced and the people who run it are incredibly rude. Eschewing the toll road only means one can endure the Denver traffic with more rude people. Thank you but no thank you, Denver.
Floyd Cramer played on tirelessly as only professional entertainers can do. We were now hearing the songs for the seventh or eighth time but they sounded as good as the first day we heard them.
At twelve thirty we were getting closer to our day’s goal. We motored into Nebraska under partly cloudy skies and a temperature of eighty three. Cooler weather is just over the horizon, we hope.
The south wind that had been pushing us out of Kansas continued to help us on our way but the wheat fields we left behind, for the most part. Trees were becoming scarce and the hills were becoming hillocks. Creeks were becoming clearer and we began thinking about antelope sightings. The freshly plowed fields, still damp from recent rains, gave up not so much as a wisp of dust to the north bound winds.
At Interstate 80 we turned west. For something like a hundred miles Pawpaw drove as the road climbed westward, ever leading us toward a receding horizon. In the median and bar ditches grew yellow and purple wild flowers. Along the side of the road we saw deer. Unfortunately each and every one of them had been hit by a vehicle and killed.
The navigator directed us into a roadside rest area where she took the wheel and we were back on the road losing only two or three minutes for the driver change.
Some things never change. The sun rises in the east. It sets in the west. Little boys become big boys and little girls become women. When Onie drives construction appears as if by magic. Less than five miles from where she started her first turn at the wheel this trip she encountered construction.
Seventy five miles later we wheeled into another rest area where Pawpaw took the wheel again.
Interstate 80 somewhat parallels the Platte River, a route followed by many early settlers of the west, and as it winds its way through the valley the road crosses it many times.
The settlers who made this trip years ago, many of whom died along the way, would be aghast and unable to understand the actions of today’s government. These were self reliant people whose only desire was to be left alone to build new homes in a wilderness area, untroubled by a government that neither helped nor hindered their efforts. The only welfare they looked to was that at the end of their arm and if they failed they rose to try again, unhindered and unmolested by government. The only help they ever received was an escort from the cavalry and that was rare and unreliable. No, they would not recognize the U.S. government of today and would scorn those who choose to live under it and its welfare mania.
With the navigator’s help at the wheel we are making better time than anticipated and should arrive at our campground an hour earlier than the driver’s estimate of seven thirty or eight.
Floyd Cramer’s piano has been replaced by the dulcet tones of Anne Murray. She sings of loves lost and found and hopes for a better day.
Climbing one of many long hills and but twenty five miles from our destination Onie spotted the first antelope we have seen this trip. Four or five stood a good distance from the road, some grazing, some watching.
We arrived at Cabela’s RV park in Sidney, Nebraska at five fifty five, local time, that would six fifty five Coldspring time, and checked in. Once again we got the last pull-thru available having once again called ahead.
Apparently there are many more rigs on the road this year than in the past couple as people try to spend their money before the folks in Washington D.C. find new ways to extract it from them.
As the driver stepped out to hook up the land lines he noticed how cool it was, seventy five, how dry it was and how the wind was blowing, hard. Trees in the campground are just now getting their leaves and it looks like we have found spring once again.
After hooking up the driver released the living room slide so the navigator could put it out and start supper.
The driver sat down to write.
Supper, salad, rice and vegetables was soon served and eaten.
It was gone almost as fast as the wind had been picking up.
Onie cleaned the kitchen and got ready for bed. Pawpaw stayed up to write.
Sitting in the front of the coach he looked to the north and saw a tremendous display of lightning. It continued for at least half an hour and prompted him to check the weather, on NOAA. Bad weather was coming our way, high winds, possible severe thunder storms and perhaps damaging hail.
As the wind velocity increased the driver pulled in the living room slide.
He wrote and talked on the phone to son, David, and daughter, Dawn.
The wind continued to build and Onie woke and pulled in the bedroom slide. The continual loud flapping of the cover was keeping her awake.
After more writing and a little game playing the driver went to bed at midnight.
Gimme 25-30-35-40 do I hear 45-50-55-60-65
Monday, May 24
The numbers above are not from an auctioneer’s mouth but are the forecast wind speeds for western Nebraska, Interstate 80, and into Wyoming.
Starting early last evening the wind speed has been increasing, rocking the coach and everything in it.
For us it meant another night of restless slumber during which we woke often.
The navigator got up about six thirty local time and the driver rose at seven. Already the sun was well above the horizon.
More visits to the NOAA website were made to confirm the coming bad weather. The high wind watch had been changed to a warning with an advisory to high profile vehicles, that is us, to restrict travel if possible. We are going to by remaining here for the day.
In addition to the high winds here there is a forty percent chance of severe thunderstorms as well as damaging hail. We will have to wait and see what develops.
In the meantime Onie is preparing the coffee, tea, bacon and biscuits. If it is going to be a long day of waiting at least we will be well fed.
The biscuits and bacon were accompanied by lemon kurd, for Onie, and homemade blueberry jam, courtesy of Kay Harpel, and figs courtesy of Patty Rogers. Both were wonderful on the hot biscuits and it is hard to envision what we would do without our good friends keeping us fed. Often good friends are like good health, one doesn’t take care of them or miss them until they are gone. We certainly try to keep our friendship ties strong and miss the friends who are now gone. The writer is sure he will be missed when he is gone. Some people will be happy and some will be sad. It will be interesting for those remaining to see which group is in the majority. As for now he keeps everyone happy, some with his arrival and some with his departure.
During breakfast we watched a medium sized yellow breasted bird, perched on a tree limb just outside our window, as it enjoyed a meal consisting of a long winged insect. It must have been good because it ate the whole thing, wings and all.
After breakfast the kitchen was cleaned and both of us checked email and looked again at the NOAA website. The update seems to indicate that we are in an area that might escape the brunt of the bad weather. We hope so. In the meantime we will take long showers, clean the coach as much as we can with the slides in, perhaps unhook the toad and do a bit of shopping and get some rest. Pawpaw will finish last week’s stories and finish Sunday of this week. Perhaps Onie will get the prologue and first week posted.
A call was made to the office to tell them we are staying over and then the driver walked over and paid us up.
Back at the coach NOAA was checked again as the wind is increasing, gusting to perhaps 40-45 miles per hour but the sky is remaining clear. To the northwest we can see dark clouds and a dust cloud that extends from horizon to horizon.
When the driver was paying up for tonight a fifth wheel rig came in off IH 80, from Cheyenne, west of here. The driver said they just made it through between two monster storms. It was unclear if he was aware his large slide cover had unspooled and was a mess.
The Weather channel is reporting large hail, golf ball and softball sized hail to the west and north of us. We are in Cheyenne County and it seems the closest hail is some forty to fifty miles away. We pray it will stay there. The storms, yes there are more than one, are moving rapidly north at speeds of fifty to sixty five miles an hour. Tornados have been seen to our west and north. We have located the tornado shelter here in the park and are prepared to go there should we hear the tornado siren alert.
The coach, with both slides in, rocks more violently than we have ever experienced causing our eyes to widen from time to time. Rigs continue to pour in to the park in a steady stream as they seek refuge from the road. The park that was practically empty at eleven is rapidly filling up and it is only two o’clock. This much traffic isn’t usually seen until after four.
It looks like our high temp for the day is going to be around eighty one or eighty two. Tonight we will see a dramatic drop, if NOAA is right, to a low of thirty three. That will be with the passage of the bad weather and the cold front dropping in. If this happens tomorrow will be a good travel day.
The wind continued.
Onie fixed lunch, salad, sliced tomatoes, sliced avocados and salmon salad.
When lunch was over we ran some water in the sink, poured in a little dish washing soap and slipped the dishes under the soapy water. A few minutes later the dishes were clean having been swept clean of left over food by the water vigorously sloshing back and forth over them as the coach continued its rocking and rolling. At a bank outside our window a white flag flew. It was not a sign of surrender by the bank to the ever intrusive feds, it was just the remnants of an American flag that had had the stars and stripes wiped clean by the roaring wind. Yes, I know it blows harder in West Texas but this was a pretty brisk breeze and it has blown for quite a while and was showing no signs of abating. At least not yet.
The dust to the northwest comes and goes. When it goes a ridgeline can be seen rising on the horizon. When it comes one can see the dust, only. Right now it has come.
Taking advantage of the delay we decided to wash, two loads, all of our dirty clothes. Starting at three we were finished at five.
During the clothes washing Onie proofed text and placed pictures in week one stories. When the driver returned she had him check things once more and then she posted the stories to our website.
While the clothes were being washed, dried and folded the navigator also created a quiche of her own. She had tasted it, tasted it and tasted it again when the clothes got back.
The temperature had topped out at eighty at three o’clock. That is when the wind began blowing out of the west. By four o’clock the temp had dropped eighteen degrees and by five it was down to fifty eight. The wind was also dropping and the coach no longer rocked. We would soon be able to open the slides back up and hopefully sleep in peace and quiet tonight. We hope to get an early start in the morning.
The wind accompanied the temperature as it continued to drop. By six there was almost no wind and the temp sat at fifty two.
The slides went back out.
We sat on the couch and watched the Game Show Channel, Family Feud, Catch 21 and Baggage then it was supper time.
Lying in a bed that was absolutely still and in a coach that wasn’t being pummeled by the wind was too much for Onie. Half way through Pale Rider she fell asleep. Pawpaw watched until the end when the bad guys had been sent to their eternal reward and the good guy rode off into the mountains, no sunset. Justice had been served. It was a good western.
The TV went off at eleven and by eleven oh five all was quiet and both occupants of the Marlin were fast asleep. It had been a long trying day.
ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT
Tuesday, May 25
The navigator rose at six, fixed her coffee and began checking her email.
Just as she was starting the tea water at six thirty the driver made his appearance in the front of the coach.
He had been up at five thirty but had elected to go back to bed. It had been fifty then, just outside the windows.
Breakfast at seven was hot tea, coffee, venison/feral hog sausage and a boiled egg. It was eaten from a plate that rested on a table that sat inside a coach that sat rock solid on its jacks where just a whisper of a breeze passed outside. It was all quiet on the western front.
The writer finished the story for Monday and began the story for Tuesday while the navigator washed the breakfast dishes and vacuumed the floors.
Then it was time to begin getting ready for a travel day.
Showers were taken, slides pulled in, land lines disconnected, the walk around done and then we pulled out.
We were on the road at eight thirty. We had elected not to tie down the living room slide cover as the winds were very moderate.
Twenty miles west we entered Kimball County where lots of severe weather had struck. Golf ball and softball sized hail had damaged vehicles and buildings alike. North Platte also suffered extensive damage. We had been west of there, right in a safe slot. We got high winds and dust, straight line winds of about 50 mph and a few drops of rain but we had escaped with no damage. We were very thankful.
Anne Murray was playing on the CD as we motored along. The navigator, ever faithful to her job was recalculating our ETA at Liard Hot Springs. We are trying to meet Kurt and Becky there.
While she was making her calculations we were passing over long rolling hills under blue skies that hosted ghostly filmy clouds.
The driver had surrendered his short pants for long pants for the first time this trip. He had worn a down vest over his tee shirt this morning to unhook.
Normally on our trip to Alaska we find cool weather. This time the cool weather found us.
We usually have a certain rhythm to our travel, four or five days, perhaps six, of driving and then a day or rest and cleaning. This time there seems to be no rhythm. Just when we are settling in to one the weather takes over and the rhythm is broken. We find that most of life has a certain rhythm and when that rhythm is disrupted folks have a hard time adapting to the change. If you have that problem perhaps motor home travel is not for you. This time it has been the weather. Last year it seemed to be equipment but somehow we adapt and travel on even if we are out of rhythm. When we were younger we had friends who were Catholic. They are still friends but they are no longer young nor are we. When their lives got out of rhythm we called them parents.
One rhythm that hasn’t changed since creation is the rhythm of the seasons and right on time spring is coming to western Nebraska and Eastern Wyoming. We have seen a few new Angus calves and spindly legged foals but for the most part the mamas to be are still carrying the unborn. The pastures are barely greening up and just a few crops are up.
We had seen two antelope this morning, in Nebraska, but when we entered Wyoming antelope seemed to be everywhere. Some of them grazed right in among houses.
To the southwest of us a big mountain range rises to the sky, its peaks snow covered. We wondered if it was the Rockies. The snow accumulation seems to be more than in past years.
Our friend Sidney Johnson called from Glen Allen, Alaska. He had just left Tok three hours earlier but wanted to give us a road report on Canada. Good roads exist to mile marker 1330 on the Alcan then there is ten miles of dirt and gravel. Past Destruction Bay there is one hundred miles of badly damaged road. In addition they had driven one hundred long miles through a very severe snow storm. At U.S. Customs there is a delay for a pilot car to lead one through fourteen miles of construction. The Tok Cutoff is worse than last year with large frost heaves, broken pavement, gravel and large potholes. He was expecting to be in Castaway by four. We thanked him for the report and wished him safe travel.
Off to our left was a large farm of electric generating wind turbines. There may have been as many as one hundred of the machines with their long blades turning in the wind. Undoubtedly we will see many more be we park at Castaway.
We were coming into Cheyenne and large mountains loomed right in front of us. They were absolutely snow covered from about nine thousand feet up, my guess.
In Cheyenne we pulled in to the Flying J for fuel and a rest break.
Then we headed north on Interstate 25 north at eleven.
Our next planned stop is Sheridan, three hundred thirty eight miles distant. We will have freeway all the way. We have been on a freeway all day today and have been making good time.
We are still trying to get to Liard on Monday. We talked to Kurt and his ETA is late Monday.
North of Cheyenne if you let the focus of your eyes drift past the fences and utility poles you will see land unbroken by any sign of human habitation. It looks as though it must have looked a thousand years ago.
We have had the dash heater running to keep us warm. Outside it is in the low fifties.
Here there are big cattle herds with lots of cows springing but no calves.
Some of the valleys with creeks are nice and green and the creeks are bank full and more.
There seem to be more coaches and rigs on the road than in the previous two years combined and the RV parks seem to be full. Yesterday the park was completely full by four thirty.
By two thirty we were seeing Casper in our rearview mirrors. Just before town we had seen a pair of antelope.
The posted price for diesel is three oh five, more than we have paid yet.
Just north of Cheyenne the navigator spotted a pair of mallards on a pond. They were the first ducks of the trip.
Farther up the road we stopped to take a picture of antelope.
We hadn’t been there but three or four minutes when a young, he was only about forty, state trooper stopped to check on us and our well being. He was a nice young fellow and confirmed what I had just mentioned to the navigator that there are more antelope in Wyoming than there are people. Four hundred seventy thousand people live in Wyoming. That is one person for every one point two miles. There are many more antelope and when they herd up for the winter the herds number more than five hundred animals each.
Sheridan came into view at ten minutes to five. We exited 90 West and went to Wal-Mart where we parked next to a Beaver Patriot. They had been there a while as they already had their windshield curtain drawn.
With the coach secured we went into Wal-Mart to make a contribution to the local economy. Onie needed salad stuff and various odds and ends foodstuffs. The driver needed diesel treatment and cable ties as well as a Waterpik head. His had somehow escaped the loading process. stuff, Wal-Mart didn’t have it, or Albertsons, or Walgreen’s. We will try again later or buy online. The cable ties that are needed were not to be found in Wal-Mart so a four block stroll was taken to Home Depot.
Back at the Marlin Onie had some snacks waiting and then supper at eight.
Dominoes followed and after a dismal start the navigator made a startling comeback but she didn’t come back quite far enough, fast enough.
Outside the sun had finally set and it was fifty two.
MAKING MILES
Wednesday, May 26
We were up by six thirty. Outside the sun was already coming up under partly cloudy skies.
Inside we had our coffee and tea with our steel cut oats. Showers followed and then the driver did his morning check of the units.
Before heading out we checked the trip mileage, to date, twelve hundred seventy two miles, not quite a third of the way. Our average fuel consumption was ten miles to the gallon. We have some long grades, some steep, in front of us so we will have to see what happens to that average after we have pulled those.
By five minutes to eight we had our wheels turning taking us north and west on Interstate 90. Traffic was light and the road surface was moderately good.
Right out of the parking lot the dash heater had been turned on as it is very cool.
Montana was just half an hour away. Two miles into Montana we saw our first steep grade sign but it was only six percent. The sign must have been there because of the length of the grade, two miles. We used the exhaust break on the way down and the engine cooled down to one hundred eighty degrees. The engine hadn’t reached normal operating temps until we had been on the road a few minutes. It had to have a load put on it to warm up.
90 West is like one long roller coaster ride without the loop de-loop but lots of curves and ups and downs. Pretty flowers that look like a cross between bluebonnets and lupines line the roadside and fill the median. Willow brush is budding out in the valleys where creeks run. We are not seeing as many antelope but those we see must be females getting ready to domino as they are butterball fat.
We crossed the Little Bighorn River near site of Custer’s slight tactical error that cost him his hair. Both the Little Bighorn and Bighorn Rivers are carrying lots of water and are near or at flood stage.
Each time we go through the Crow Reservation we notice there are no wild animals. Just a hop skip and jump out of the reservation there are more antelope.
We reached the Billings, Montana Flying J at ten ten.
We have logged seventeen hundred twenty five miles to here and figures we are over a third of the way to Castaway.
The jack light has been blinking this morning so we went to the truck parking area, after fueling, and put the jacks down. The pedestals were full of dirt and gravel so they were cleaned out. While the driver was at it he lubed the jack arms as well and checked the fluid level in the pump.
Back on the road at eleven we were headed west. The mountains are always just a little ahead of us as we never seem to quite reach them.
Onie got a picture as we drove next to the Yellowstone River which is also running full. When the road deviated from river Onie saw two herds of mule deer just off the road to the south, right in the open.
East of Bozeman a big herd of antelope grazed on a nearby hill.
When we rolled into Bozeman at one twenty five it appeared to be a prosperous place with nice homes, big apartments and road construction,
At Three Forks Montana we turned north on 287 to go to Helena. We were off a freeway for the first time in a couple of days.
Yesterday while we were in Wal-Mart I got a new battery for the pocket watch that grand daughter Haley gave me a couple of yeas ago for Christmas. The original battery died right after we left Lake Road and I like having a time piece so I can try to guess our estimated times of arrival at various locations. Onie and I found the battery and put in ourselves. The watch is keeping good time now so once again I can play a guessing game while driving. Thanks Haley.
Time was rolling by and we were rolling on, reaching Helena at three oh five. Helena is a good sized town but rather uninspiring looking with lots of buildings but very few trees. The town looks sterile without trees.
Here we turned north on 15.
The pines of northern Montana are taking a beating. Ninety percent of them are dead or dying. Beetles or something similar are taking a devastating toll. The mountains are brown with dead trees.
There are many places where the road cuts through hills exposing rock cuts. The navigator got pictures of some of the rock cuts and Prickly Pear Creek as we crossed it.
Speaking of crossing water we have crossed the Missouri river several times and in some places have seen white water. Other places on the river hosted fishing boats. The driver didn’t see much of this as we were in a construction area. Onie reported to him.
Thirty miles south of Great Falls we were looking at the Missouri River again.
By five twenty five we had been in and out of the Flying J in Great Falls, headed north. We had just bought our last fuel in the U.S. until we get to Alaska. We are still averaging ten miles per gallon.
Leaving Great Falls we were one hundred ninety seven miles from Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. We were heading to Shelby, Montana though where we would spend the night and should be there by seven.
It looks like we may get some wind and rain.
Twenty miles south of Shelby Onie saw magpies for the first time this trip. They are a quite colorful bird and interesting to watch.
The rain, if its coming hasn’t arrived yet but the strong winds have. Ten miles from Shelby we slowed to forty five to keep the living room slide cover from un-spooling.
At five minutes to seven we pulled into the Lewis and Clark RV Park in Shelby. The driver waited for the rain to slack off before he went in to register. It had started raining five miles before we got to the campground.
Inside to register the driver waited while the campground owner gave another guest routing instructions around Lethbridge. With the other camper out of the office the owner turned his attention to the driver. The driver was recognized as a previous camper and the campground owner launched into a list of things that had happened since our last visit as well as a list of things he wishes would happen. Ten minutes later we got registered. The owner is quite a talker and once he has your ear it is like pulling anchor shank nails to get it back so you can move on.
With my ear intact I braved the wind and rain and got back to the coach where we made for our site. First time visitors are ushered to their site but since we have been here before and it is raining and the driver left before the talking machine ran down we went without the escort.
At the site, it was still raining; we did our thing to prepare for the night.
Ready for the evening Onie got on the web.
The winds began picking up and soon had the coach rocking.
The driver got on the web and checked the Alberta weather. It looked like we were in for more of same tomorrow, up to Lethbridge and a little way past. Past Lethbridge we should be in light winds with sunshine.
Onie served hot appetizers.
When the appetizers hit the table, hard rain began hitting the coach.
With the rain now drumming on the side of the coach, the temperature dropping and the wind howling Onie served sliced avocado and tomatoes for our salad followed by honey mustard chicken and yellow neck squash and onion. A heart felt thanks goes out to our dear friend and neighbor Polly for the fresh squash. They came from her garden the morning we were leaving along with a zucchini.
Supper was over at eight thirty.
Onie cleaned the kitchen and then we pulled the living room slide in part way to reduce noise from slide cover flapping in the high wind. The flapping was competing with the sound of the gargantuan rain drops that were pounding the coach.
Onie retired at nine thirty.
The writer stayed up to take notes off the recorder and then write til twelve.
By then the wind and rain had stopped and the thermometer had stopped falling at fifty.
Teeth brushed and in bed the writer drifted off to sleep as the wind and rain returned. It had been a long day.
SNOW WHERE
Thursday, May 27
It rained off and on most of the night. I woke up frequently due to wind noise.
Onie was up at seven thirty and the driver rose fifteen minutes later.
She was busy making tea and coffee.
She is also preparing food for next two to three days as we will be traveling a lot and boon docking.
Outside a good breeze was blowing. We hope to leave soon and get past Lethbridge where weather will hopefully improve.
On the road at a quarter of ten we drove through intermittent light rain falling out of heavy skies with the thermometer hanging onto a balmy forty five degrees.
Five miles north of Shelby we encountered heavy rain, a veritable Texas frog strangler. Visibility was reduced to half a mile.
Twenty five after the hour we slowed to a stop in the line to go through Canadian customs. The U.S. side of the border is Sweetgrass and the Canadian side is Coutts, Alberta. We were in Coutts at twenty til eleven.
Highway 4 North out of Coutts is a four lane divided highway with an excellent surface. The next town we came to was Milk River named for a river of the same name. The river was flowing fast and full. It appeared lots of rain had already fallen here and was still coming down.
This is farm crop land which means there are no fences, just plowed fields with ditches separating them from the road.
The temperature had fallen slightly to forty three by eleven, and light rain was still falling. Searching the horizon we looked for blue sky but didn’t find it.
Driving through the wet gloom made us feel like we were on a never ending road and brought a campfire song to mind that Mama, my Mama, used to sing, There’s a Long Long Trail Awinding. Some of the words went like this “There’s a long long trail a winding into the land of my dreams, where the evening campfire’s glowing and a bright moon beams, there be long long nights of waiting until my dreams all come true ‘til the day that I’ll be going down that long long trail with you.” Onie and I are going down that long long trail together and here we felt it would never end. That is where we are. We have come over two thousand miles and are not yet half way. We know the hardest part is still ahead.
Nearing Lethbridge the rain slacked off and turned to mist. The clouds that had been down to ground and close in were lifting and now visibility was increasing. The horizon appeared to be about ten to fifteen miles away. Maybe we will drive out of the bad weather after all. The fields here have standing water in all low and near low areas. The southern part of Alberta is long rolling hills with the tallest things being silos, feed mills and grain elevators which stand next to the railroad that parallels the highway. In every direction one looks there is lots of standing water. Ducks are having a field day, landing on ponds and then rising again to fly away before resting on another pond or in some casual water.
The bar ditches south of Lethbridge have nice green grasses and generous amounts of water in them which reminds me of when I was a kid living in Highlands, Texas. After a summer rain we would go out and play in the ditch water and catch crawdads. All the kids did it and no ones mom thought a thing about it and we all lived to grow up to be somewhat normal adults, except for some of my siblings. The jury is still out on them.
At Lethbridge we took the bypass and connected to Alberta 4 at eleven forty five, on the way to Alberta 3. Alberta 3 West is also known as Crowsnest Trail. We, crossed Old Man River north of Lethbridge and he is rolling along in grand fashion, benefiting from the storm drain water pouring in from Lethbridge.
Leaving Lethbridge behind we listened to Placido Dominguez. The first song on the CD is Lara’s Theme.
We were west of Lethbridge and it was still raining. We passed a big stack of hay covered with a tarp which is held down with old tires and a little snow. The dash heater has been running all day as hard as it can go with the blower on high and we are still chilly. We are discussing our next move to stay warm, more clothes, sweats, hoodies, etc or just head north to where it is cool.
At Ft McLeod we got on 2 North. It was still raining and the wind was gusting enough to make you pay attention when driving.
We just passed an A&W and a Subway. There are lots of U.S. based businesses up here.
At twelve thirty we were still wondering about driving out of the rain. At a quarter of one we did when the rain turned to sleet.
Sleet always makes the driver hungry so we had lunch, salmon salad.
By the time lunch was eaten the sleet had turned to snow, icing the windshield.
Now all the heat from the dash is going to the defroster and we are barely keeping the windshield free of snow accumulation as the temp has dropped to thirty four.
With snow sticking to the grass next to road and in bar ditches which are now white instead of green it is easy to tell it has been snowing here for quite sometime.
Snow has accumulated on cars and trucks in the small towns we are passing through.
The snow is coming down harder and faster and visibility has dropped to a quarter to three eights of a mile. In years past we wondered what this place would look like with snow, now we know.
The defrosters can’t keep up with the accumulation of ice and snow on the windshield now so we are running the wipers on high speed to knock off the big chunks and allow us to see.
A watchful is being kept on the road and the slush we are driving though. It is about two inches deep. At first sign of ice we will be off the road wherever we are. We tuned in to a Calgary radio station to see if we could get an updated weather forecast. A lady called in and said there was a white out south of city. Encouragement of that kind was not needed. Mean while visibility here is one quarter mile with big wet flakes coming down hard.
A pickup headed south, but pointed north, was spotted in the median, framed, where he had tried to use four wheel drive to dig his was out. He had dug his way in.
We are now thirty five miles south of Calgary and the temp is thirty two.
Shortly after two we began to see the outskirts of Calgary. We are on the road known as Deerfoot Trail and the snow flakes here look like they are big as half dollars or snowballs.
Our plans called for us to stop at the Flying J for fuel and where we now hoped to de-ice the windshield. We never found the Flying J.
As we got closer in to Calgary the snow turned to rain and the windshield was de-iced by it.
We were in heavy traffic on rough roads but at least the snow was gone. Calgary is a big town and it takes forty minutes to an hour to get through it. From year to year we seem to forget how long and rough the road is. With the heat from the city the temp rose to thirty six and we hoped it would stay there or go higher once we left the city.
We had seen no game animals in Alberta but waterfowl was abundant and fat mourning dove flew the skies.
We are stopping in Red Deer, at four, at the Flying J, so we can go on to Ft. St. John before buying fuel again, at Safeway. It is still drizzling and the weather has been the big topic of the day. Snow on May twenty seventh is very unusual according to the Calgary radio station.
We have experienced more bad weather already than we usually do on any three trips.
Perhaps it was the bad weather that caused the Flying J in Red Deer to be misplaced but misplaced it was so we drove on without fueling.
We were on 11 West and the rain was tapering off. It was a good four lane divided road that carries lots of traffic.
The country here is pretty flat and looks like it is probably cattle country. Stock tanks are in abundance and cross fencing seems to be the norm however no cattle are visible.
We are still on 11West. It is two lanes now with wide shoulders and a good surface. There are more trees and hills creating a very pretty country. Now there are lots of Black Angus cattle as well as Herefords and Hereford Angus cross.
The rain has never completely left us and now that we have turned north we are looking at clouds that seem to harbor rain. It may be raining in Drayton Valley, our destination for the day, when we get there.
Now we are off 11 and on 22 headed to Drayton Valley. We have sixty miles to go. The sprinkles are continuing and the temperature has reached fifty.
We are on a good two lane road with a good surface. This is definitely cattle country as well as supporting logging with plenty of oil and gas exploration and production.
We are twenty miles from Drayton valley. After Pavarotti finishing singing we saw a large herd of bison with many new calves, tiny things that will grow into behemoths.
The road has finally gotten dry and in the fields are lots of cattle and horses.
Ever alert for wild animal we saw a mule deer doe just before the North Saskatchewan River. We also just passed Willy Provincial Park where we stayed at the boat launch last year, because there was no room in the park,
We drove into the Drayton Wal Mart parking lot at six twenty five and parked.
We logged four hundred thirty interesting miles today, two thousand five hundred sixty five, total, to date. We are more than half way to the fish grate.
Onie served snacks while the driver/writer took off the day’s notes.
Later Thai Chicken Salad appeared as if by magic, for him, for supper.
After supper, at eight, we played a game of dominoes, snug in the coach while outside it was a tepid fifty four.
Rain came at midnight and stayed for the rest of the night.
P.S.-the driver didn’t win the domino game.
DE NUTS IN DEBOLT
Friday, May 28
It rained most of the night and the temp dipped to thirty seven before starting back up at seven a.m. when the rain stopped, briefly. By seven thirty it was coming down again, very steadily. Gray skies hung all around us.
While the furnace warmed the interior of the coach, coffee and tea were made as well as a cup of hot cocoa.
These notes were made while Onie got breakfast--brown flour quiche--ready.
We ate then Onie cleaned the kitchen while more notes were made.
Outside the rain continued to fall.
When the driver made his morning walk around inspection the Subaru looked like it had been over the Alcan and we hadn’t even started yet. Splash from passing vehicles, yesterday, in the snowy slush had covered it with dirt and grime. At eight fifty we were leaving our Wal-Mart parking spot.
Everything was wet as the rain continued to fall.
We bought no fuel at this time but will need to get some later today.
We took Highway 16, also known as the Yellowhead, and headed north.
Shortly we turned onto 22 north, also known as Range Road 83 and The Cowboy Trail. The name Cowboy Trail is apropos as the road is really rough and one would be more comfortable in the saddle than in a coach seat. Rain continued to fall and low clouds were the norm. The road was straight as an arrow. Distant headlights indicated that the rain is far ahead of us.
At Meyerthorpe we turned left onto Highway 43 which will take us northwest to Whitecourt and Grand Prairie. The rain continues to fall. The roadway is four lanes divided but not a freeway as it has crossings at grade. The terrain is long rolling wooded hills with higher hills on the horizon.
So far we have seen very few wild animals in Canada with the exception of waterfowl. Signs indicating deer and moose are abundant but the animals are AWOL. Even the birds seem to be absent today.
We pulled into a Shell station in Whitecourt to get fuel. At ninety three cents a liter it was no great bargain but we took it anyway. The driver stood in forty seven degree weather while the three hundred eight liters were pumping. A quick calculation indicated a poor performance for the Cummins, Allison and driver with a meager seven point seven miles to the gallon. Trying to figure out the low average we thought about the snow slush on the road and thought it was like driving through mud one or two inches deep. In addition the last time we filled up it was at the Flying J truck pumps where it is very difficult to top off. The driver usually keeps pumping after the pump shuts off the first time and an additional ten gallons can be added. This is not true at the truck pumps where the fuel nozzle delivers the fuel at least twice and probably four times as quick as at the car or RV pumps. Also we had to reduce our speed in the snow and slush so the Cummins and Allison were not operating at optimum speed. We will see how we do on the next fill up.
Half an hour out of Whitecourt it appeared as though we might be driving out of the rain and finally see the sun again. On the distant horizon one could see a thin sliver of blue sky just above the horizon.
There is not much out here on 43 but it is a nice four lane divided highway. There are many road signs indicating wild animals but they are still no where to be seen. The sliver of blue on the distant horizon has shrunk into nothingness and we are wondering once again when we will see blue skies.
In a tiny creek feeding into the bar ditch I saw the first beaver dam of the trip. Just down the road more ambitious beavers had built a U shaped dam about a hundred feet long and had made a good sized pond. The arm kinda twitched as if holding an ultra-light rod that was questing for brook trout.
Noon is here and we are continuing west on 43. Oil and gas production are still in abundance. Mist is falling on the windshield but the sky has lightened enough that the driver has opted to don his sun glasses. We are still optimistic about seeing the sun today.
We saw lots of coaches on the freeways, 80 and 90 in the lower 48 but have seen very few here. There have been a few fifth wheels and pull behinds but not too many of those. We may see more tomorrow if folks are out celebrating Memorial Day.
There are rest areas along the highway but they are not Texas style. They are just big pullouts, big parking lots, with potties for men and women. There are no shelters, no picnic tables, no doggie areas, just big parking lots with potties.
The road is mostly straight with occasional dips and turns. When it dips we cross creeks or rivers like the Little Smoky or the Laskehigan River.
We still see clouds that may have rain in them but they are not covering the blue sky to north and northwest.
Onie fixed lunch. She made salmon salad day before yesterday so I will have five radishes, salmon salad in half a bell pepper and water. She will have a salmon salad sandwich and water.
The road has turned north. We are rushing toward blue sky at fifty nine miles per hour. Overhead it is still cloudy but the horizon is a pretty blue. We will be under blue skies before days end, God willing.
Driving in Canadian provinces, as far as distance goes is like driving in Alaska and Texas, it seems like you will never get out of them.
We are passing thru Valley View where we see a sign for Sherk’s RV Park where we have stayed a few times. We also see the first sign pointing one toward Alaska Highway. The sign doesn’t say how long it is or how the roads are. The sign just says go that way to get to it. It is one hundred forty eight miles to Dawson Creek where we will see mile one.
We will skirt Grand Prairie when we get there. Right now we are passing through an Indian reservation. When we get here I am always surprised to see a sign that says watch for pedestrians in the roadway. I can’t figure out why the Indians walk in the road. Is it too much fire water, don’t they know any better or do they think they own the road?
A small dog chased a deer across the road in front of an eighteen wheeler and two old Indians sitting on bench seat from car, against the fence, laughed as the eighteen wheeler almost wrecked avoiding deer. This is strange to the writer. Is this what living on the government dole does to one or is it what the passage of many moons does? If this is a result of living on the dole perhaps it is time to quit supporting the Indians and make them become self supporting, restore their dignity and give them a reason to be alive.
The navigator saw a mule deer doe at edge of the woods right before we reached Range Road 252.
It is one fifteen and we have been seeing vague shadows under vehicles for some time but now we see the sun and real shadows. There blue skies, nothing but blue skies do I see.
We had turned off dash heater for first time in several days and my down vest and Onie’s blanket had come off, a little before two
We came through Debolt. The writer has always wondered where de nut was. Maybe de people walking on de road in de Indian Reservation are de nuts. Debolt has de golf club with de golf course and de driving range where de nuts play de game.
Grand Prairie looms on the distant horizon but we will not give them the pleasure of our company, today. We have been there and even spent the night there once but to we are going to take the bypass, as we have before, and miss the traffic and congestion of the big city.
We will stay on rural roads and enjoy the bucolic scenery. We have just seen some black and white ducks, as we have before, and the driver thinks these are Buffleheads. They seem to like the western provinces, according to Ducks Unlimited.
The folks here about have been blessed with abundant rain and ducks are everywhere including the bar ditches. We just passed a Mallard drake and hen in a ditch.
We have turned off 43 on to 2 North which is part of the bypass and will take the next left onto 59. About fifty miles up 59 we will reconnect with a main highway and have skipped Grand Prairie.
The farms along 59 have many little bitty houses, measuring perhaps ten by ten or ten by twelve, close to them. We wonder if there were occupied in the past by farm workers who have since been replaced by mechanization. Surely it would have taken many hands to operate farms of this size.
Passing through the hamlet of La Glace we wondered if this translated into English would mean “The Ice”. Our French isn’t too good.
We continued on the 59 bypass and came to Valhalla. For those of you who are Scandinavians please take note. Valhalla is not heaven or even close. It is a small village of three or four houses, a tiny church, a very small school and what might be a small mercantile, no gas station. Of course if you die and come to Valhalla you won’t have a car so you won’t need a gas station. By the way, we didn’t see Odin, Thor or any of the other famous Norsemen here so they may not have achieved their goal.
Ten minutes to four found us back on 43 with thirty five miles to go before reaching Dawson Creek. We are not fast but we are steady.
Our clocks, due to a time change, are now wrong, reading three instead of two.
At two thirty, local time, we were looking at Dawson Creek. First we saw the airport, a large plane, a twin engine turbo prop that seats twelve was landing, and then other things began coming into view. We were two or three minutes from mile one of the Alcan. Just past the airport at a big bend in the road is an overgrown Wal-mart and then as the road straightened we were looking at the city center. We saw an A&W, McDonalds, a sushi restaurant, a Toyota dealership, Tin Horton’s, a Dodge dealership, a school and then the first of several traffic lights. Next came New Holland Equipment dealer then an auto parts house, a smorgasbord, an auto glass establishment, a café/bar, a Safeway with a gas bar, a motel, Shoppers Mart, Zeller’s Grocery and more. Dawson Creek is a nice sized town and the last we will see for quite sometime.
At the round about, where we take a left, we start the Alcan.
We are on 97, aka the Alcan.
On the left is Mile 0 RV Park, taking its name from its location.
Most RVs here are headed to Alaska. There is lots of local traffic.
We are headed to Ft St John fifty five to sixty miles north of Dawson Creek. Outside of town we are impressed with the new climbing and turning lanes. It seems the folks here are constantly improving the road.
The driver is getting into his slow mode to let people around because on rough roads it is a slow go so as not to abuse coach, navigator or driver. We also do not like o hold up traffic so we pull over from time to time to avoid doing so. When no pullouts are available we just go very slow until everyone who wants around is around.
We can see the Peace River valley fill the horizon and then we begin the big long downhill grade. It is three and a half miles long and varies from six to ten percent in grade. It is not a place to get in a hurry so we descend in second gear with the exhaust brake engaged.
The down hill grade ends with a sharp turn to the right and then one is on the bridge. The bridge is undergoing repairs and is currently one lane traffic. Onie likes the climb out of the valley better than the descent.
Another hour passed and we were in Ft St John where we shopped at Safeway and bought fuel. Then we headed over to Wal-Mart where we will spend the night. It was five o’clock after we had set up at Wal-Mart, leveled and put out the slides.
Having arrived before us, Heinz and Helen, from Alberta, sat outside their fifth wheel, her working a crossword and him carving a sign with their names on it. The driver stopped over to visit and introduce himself. They were on their dream trip, a trip to Alaska. He was anxious to know how to fish for salmon and the driver tried to explain that it was unlike anything he had ever tried before. After a bit he gave Heinz his name and cell phone number along with the address of Castaway and told him to call when he gets to Alaska. Stay at the park and Onie and I will teach him and Helen how to catch sockeyes.
Back at the Marlin the driver got out a drop cloth and scooted underneath the front end. A popping screeching noise had been emanating from under his feet for a few days now and he was interested in finding its origin. He discovered a broken metal floor support. It will need to be fixed.
Onie had fixed a fresh salad of Romaine lettuce, avocado and tomatoes.
Chicken gumbo rounded out our meal.
After supper we went in to do a little more shopping.
Back in the coach Onie tried one of our purchases, garlic stuffed olives. She liked them.
Then it was domino time. Let is be noted and recorded that she eked out a win.
Onie was off to bed at nine thirty.
The driver stayed up to take off notes and write till eleven twenty then he went to.
Outside it was fifty two and clear. Before the night was over it would drop to thirty nine.
ANIMALS, ANIMALS, ANIMALS
Saturday, May 29
We were up at seven.
It seems we had a generator problem. We reset switches on the generator and hoped that corrected the problem.
We had our coffee and tea and then breakfast.
We were on the road at nine thirty.
Twenty five miles up the Alcan from Ft. St. John the road continues to be good even though it is but two lanes. It has wide shoulders and wide cleared rights of way.
The spruce bark beetle continues having a field day destroying the remaining trees. Within two to three years there may be no more spruce around here, just Aspen or their relative. With all the dying spruce it gives the illusion of fall since from a distance one sees greens, grays, tans and browns.
The countryside is still well populated, mostly by farmers. There is still a lot of evidence of oil and gas exploration. We passed a huge storage yard with miles and miles of drill stem and pipeline pipe.
Canada is pressing forward with its plans to become energy independent while our government is restricting our energy industry and seems to be moving to take it over as it did the financial, auto and health industry. It seeks more and more power over our daily lives. In my opinion they welcome difficult times so they can use it as an excuse to preempt private industry, increase taxes and move us toward socialism or even communism. Their dream is for a ruling elite, leaving us to be paupers and servants to them. They pass laws good for the peasants but not good enough for the ruling class as they continue to exempt themselves from the laws governing us.
For first timers on the Alcan they probably think the stories about bad roads are just that, stories. There was hardly a ripple in the road surface the first sixty miles and like no ripples in the road there were no wild animals.
The first Alaskan plate we saw on the Alcan belonged to a little
Chevy, headed north, passing on hills and in no passing zones like there is no tomorrow. We hope there is one for him.
One thing Canada may be shy on is highway patrolmen, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police or RCMP. We haven’t seen one since we got here and we have traveled over fifteen hundred miles.
The good road disappeared monetarily sixty eight miles up but returned shortly.
The scenery is becoming very spectacular as it takes on a wild flavor.
The return of the good road was only temporary. We are now motoring much more slowly. We have encountered our first really bad spot and had to slow to fifteen miles and hour. There is plenty more bad road to come.
We are approaching suicide hill (a sign here simply stated “Prepare to Meet Your Maker”), at a quarter of twelve, at historic mile marker 148. This was a particularly treacherous piece of road until it was realigned. When cars did crash on the old road it seems there was always at least one fatality.
Until just recently cruise had done much of the speed control but those days are over for now. Near Anchorage (about 1400 miles up the road) we can use it again. Now the odometer and clock tell the story of the road. In the last two and a half hours we have traveled one hundred fifteen miles. Driving here is where one forgets the speedometer and watches the road surface, listens to the coach, feels the shakes, listen for the rattles and, when they are bad ones, slows down. When they lessen one speeds up.
Lunch has come and gone; bell pepper and salmon salad for me and a salmon salad wrap for Onie.
The road has now gone from moderately good to less than moderately good but we aren’t complaining as we know the really bad road is still in front of us. We are not in a rush to meet it.
Spring is trying to come to northern British Columbia as some trees are leafed out while others are still trying with brand new green and little bitty leaves.
We had seventy five miles of good highway and then seventy miles of not so good but now we are back on good highway and appreciating it more than we did the first seventy five.
Overhead the sun is shining with clear blue skies and a few puffy clouds floating by. It is about sixty. It was forty six when we left Wal-Mart.
The city limit sign of Ft. Nelson passed outside the navigator’s window at two twenty. It was seventy five degrees under mostly sunny skies.
We have come three thousand one hundred seventy three miles since leaving our sweet smelling gardenias.
We stopped to see if we have cell service. Onie did not. I did. She wants a phone like mine and will probably have one before summer is at an end.
The driver talked to Kurt. He will be in to Liard Hot Springs Monday afternoon to meet us and soak. We also talked to Pioneer RV Park in Whitehorse. They will have a welder on hand to fix the broken floor support when we arrive there next Wednesday.
Just north of Ft Nelson is a big bison ranch. It was there when we first came up in’01 and it is still there now.
We are bumping along with snow capped mountains surrounding us. We are just taking it easy. There is very very little RV traffic headed north. So far we have seen six or eight. There may be a whole string in front or in back of us but we haven’t seen any around us.
A little before four we were going into the foothills of the Canadian Rockies.
Onie had two tangerines for a snack while the driver had two pieces of fudge and glass of milk. After all the driver does need his brain food.
It is warm, about seventy, and we are riding with our windows open, going forty on fair road having a lazy afternoon drive.
The climb up the side of the mountain that overlooks the Muskwa Valley is eight kilometers with grades of six to ten percent. The Allison and Cummins handle them easily. The view out the driver’s window is spectacular the navigator reports as she advises him to keep his eyes on the road.
Three thousand two hundred twenty nine miles is a long way to drive to see a black bear in the wild but we had driven that far when we saw our first one. He escaped before navigator could capture him on film.
We had climbed real high, going forty to forty five with the windows open. The fresh air was nice and cool. As we came over a crest we saw a beautiful tree filled valley. A river ran in bottom and in the near foreground were tree covered mountains. Farther off were snow covered mountains. It was quite a picture.
The road stretches out before us, crosses rivers, curves out of sight and reappears going over another crest.
Pavement breaks are encountered as we head toward Toad River.
A couple of pickups pulling fifth wheels passed us going rather fast, for this bumpy road, and at their destination they may have shards for dishes and scrambled eggs.
A little way from the bear where we didn’t get a picture we saw a caribou and didn’t get a picture because of camera problems. The problem, low batteries, was corrected and we did get a picture of a nearby gaggle of geese.
The Testa River bridge with its expanded metal deck was crossed. One would suppose the expanded metal deck is to let snow through in the winter.
What the road is lacking in RV traffic is made up for with truck traffic, there is plenty.
We just passed over a little creek that had snow on its gravel banks, below us.
We are nearing Stone Mountain Park and have just crossed the North Tetsa River. This means we are nearing Summit Lake and Provincial Park where we camped with Haley, Andrew and Colby in 2001. Now we have snow above us, below us and all around us. This is a very scenic area although the road itself is very tortuous. Indicated speeds are thirty to fifty miles per hour but we go slower because of our size and weight plus we are towing.
Summit Lake is almost completely covered with ice,
Two cow elk were on the shoulder of road just past Summit Lake picking up salt from winter.
These are the first elk we have seen in this spot.
A Stone sheep ram with almost a full curl was lying on side of road sunning, posing for us.
Around the next corner were seven more Stone sheep.
A hundred yards further ahead were yet more sheep. All these animals were after the salt, except a few that are nibbling on fresh shoots, left over from winter when the roads are salted to prevent icing
Most of the animals had been on the driver’s side and he had just stopped the coach in the middle of the road to don his photographer’s hat. Now it was Onie’s turn as she got a picture of one on her side in the ditch.
There were some yearlings in the groups but no real young ones like in the past. We were almost to Toad River when we saw still more stone sheep. We got three of them to pose for us.
Now we were really close to Toad River where we will listen for the wind in the willows and wait for folks to take their wild ride on the Alcan.
This is the time of day to be on the road as animals seem to be everywhere.
Onie just got a picture of a whitetail doe.
When we crossed the Racing River at ten minutes to six we were just four miles from camp.
Once there we registered, unhooked, backed in, with the navigators aid, hooked up the land lines including satellite TV and were all set at seven ten.
We had a nice view out our dining room window of Reflection Lake.
Pawpaw took an extra long shower while the navigator fixed supper, avocado and tomato salad and chicken gumbo.
Outside our dining room window, far away on the lake, swam a majestic swan. With binoculars we were able to get a close up view as she swam and fed. Also occupying the lake with her were mallards, pintails and buffleheads.
The temperature was sixty five at eight.
Onie cleaned the kitchen and then it was her turn for a long shower.
The driver made a few notes.
When Onie was ready we watched Made of Honor before going to sleep at nine forty five.