Dawson Creek to Fort Nelson to Toad River, British Columbia

Here we are on the Alaskan Highway. We’ve come through some beautiful territory in British Columbia. We arrived in Dawson Creek, mile zero of the Alaskan Highway, possibly remembered by some of  you as the “AlCan Highway.” The highway has changed a lot since its inception and building during World War II. I won’t go into the particulars, but they’re easily available on sites such as Wikipedia. It’s an interesting story for anyone interested in the particulars.

We had a delightful time in Dawson Creek. We stayed at the Mile 0 RV Park Saturday and Sunday nights. We had a corner lot, directly across from the laundromat. We spent Saturday afternoon resting up, getting the oil changed in the man truck, cleaning up the camper and vegetating. It was nice to sit back and realize we didn’t have to get up and hook up the camper Sunday morning and pull out.

We were even able to take Maggie outside without fear of her flying off. Her wings are severely clipped so that she can’t do more than jump and she got frustrated when she could hear us sitting outside the door talking. I have a little harness/leash thing that I bought and tried on her a long time ago, but she goes bonkers when I try to put it on her. I got it out again and she got so caught up in trying to chew it to pieces that she didn’t even realize when we stepped outside and she didn’t have it on. She sat on my knee chewing on the thing for quite awhile, getting head scratches and looking around.

We had checked about local churches on the internet and Gary noticed that there was a small Baptist church right next to the campground when he took the truck to get the oil changed. It was only a short walk across the grass to the building rented by New Beginnings Baptist Church. We were so glad we went! The pastor, Michael Stark, is a native of Kansas who has worked planting churches all over the western U.S. and Canada. He hit a high note with Gary when he told him North Carolina is o.k, but the moose and elk hunting suck. It’s still a small church number-wise, but I doubt it will stay that way long. The people were very friendly and most everyone was gathered around the coffee pot and pastry tray when we entered. One of the announcements was that you were welcome to help yourself at any time during the service.

The sermon was hard-hitting. As one lady told me, “If you come to church to be made to feel good, you’d better find another church.” I jokingly told the pastor afterwards that I needed to go home and nurse my wounds. As it turned out, we didn’t leave right after the service. Just our “luck,” the church had planned a picnic after the service and invited us to stay. Would we say no and hurt the feelings of these fine people? Not on your life! We had a good meal and great conversation. And we’ll see these fine folks again someday. If you’d like to hear a good sermon, go to www.NewBeginningsBaptist.ca.

We chilled and napped the rest of the day, preparing for the big event of Monday morning—on to the Alaskan Highway. We got (for us) an early start and merrily rolled along mile after green mile. We are back in lodgepole pine country and you can see the damage done by pine borers. Acres of dark green trees with the rusty orange of dead trees making horrible splotches of ugly in the beauty.

British Columbia is a beautiful province. It is very rural. There are tiny settlements separated by l—o—n—-g stretches of highway. There are “look out for wildlife” signs everywhere along the highway. We haven’t seen the first wild thing yet, although we did see some elk farms in Alberta where they actually raise them for meat. The poor things probably think they are in heaven: Wow, all we can eat without browsing and foraging. Gee, they bring this hay and stuff right here for us to eat! Maybe people aren’t so bad as we thought. “Hey, George, why do you reckon they’re wanting us to line up in this here chute? Oh well, as long as they keep the hay coming . . . .”

We saw vast fields of hay and more canola in B.C. and the highway has obviously been worked on since 1943. The agreement with Canada when the AlCan was built was that the U.S. would foot the bill, then turn the highway over to Canada six months after the end of the war. Since then Canada has taken out a lot of the switchbacks and straightened a good bit of it. At one rest stop we saw a sign that showed a portion of the road that had been re-routed. It said that there were several theories about why the roads were built that way in the first place. One was that it was for the engineers to practice doing curves, another was that the Japanese, when they arrived, would not be able to strafe as well on curves.

We spent Monday night in Fort Nelson. It was pretty dry and dusty at the Bluebell Motel/Service Station/Grill/Campground & RV Park, but they had water and electricity. We could theoretically do without them, but it’s easier if we have them, especially if there’s a pumpout.

There’s a whole lot of drilling going on around here. We ate breakfast at a hotel that had old drill bits lined up along the walk leading to the front door. Many of the businesses are connected to drilling for either water or oil, possibly both. The ones that don’t directly connect to drilling in some way are there to service the ones that do. And the breakfasts they serve are fit for a wildcatter.

We went through some more gorgeous scenery between Fort Nelson and Toad River. The mountains just go on and on, one range after another. In some places the road goes straight for kilometer after kilometer. The don’t use miles here any more, although the old mile markers are still used to denote places. Toad River is at mile marker 422. We crest a hill and see another mountain range behind what we thought was the last one.

The story of how Toad River got its name is that when they were building the highway, of course there were no bridges, so this was the “towed river.” But someone didn’t know the difference between “towed” and “toad.” The “town” consists  of an airstrip (with a big sign saying “Keep off the airstrip”) a motel/gas station/RV park/gift shop and possibly the world’s largest collection of caps nailed to the ceiling of the restaurant/gift shop.

Our camper is parked next to the lake, and after dinner we sat and watched the sun start to set. It doesn’t get dark now until nearly 10:30 p.m. Maggie sat with us awhile too. We saw a moose across the lake eating her evening meal. I tried to get a picture, but she didn’t show up, even with the zoom all the way out.

The folks next to us had the back window of their Jeep Cherokee pop out today. They are on their way to Fairbanks to visit their son. They had a plastic mat to lie on for changing tires, so just spread that over the window till they get home to Michigan. Repairs are very expensive—as is most everything else out here.

Our poor Prowler is probably going to be pretty beat up when we get home, too. First, we had to take the trim pieces off the dinette seats. Every time one of us slid in or out they creaked and threatened to come off anyway. The next thing to go was the drawers under the wardrobe in the bathroom. I didn’t know they were designed to hold something about the weight of a feather pillow, so I filled them with wet wipes, bathmats, toilet chemicals and a few odds and ends. Turns out they are (were) supported by balsa wood attached to more balsa wood with staples. Now they are in the back of the truck because Gary can’t get down on his knees to fix them. Next to go was the convenient shelf that holds toiletries and can be conveniently slid into little notches above the toilet and be convenient while one is doing one’s toilette. The convenient shelf was attached to slides attached to balsa wood with staples. Now the inconvenient shelf rests on top of the supply of toilet paper I had stashed underneath it. I hope the floor isn’t attached to balsa wood with staples. We didn’t bring a Sears & Roebuck catalog with us.

I told Gary as long as the bed doesn’t collapse and the toilet keeps working we’ll be o.k. Sort of like the boat. But it is nice having an oven and a fridge that I can get more than a stick of butter and a quart of milk in. The bed is on a board-type thing. I just hope it’s not held in place by staples. If it is we’ll find ourselves sleeping on a pile of boots and heavy jackets we brought for the cold weather that we haven’t seen any of yet.

The Alaskan Highway is mostly good road. But when it’s bad, it’s horrid. There are places called “heaves” that are pretty aptly named. The road heaves and the truck goes down while the trailer goes up, then they switch places and bounce pretty good. Things you thought were securely lashed are found in strange places when you stop. Also, there is a lot of gravel being used on the road. That causes dust. Lots of fine, fine dust. It’s most everywhere. Fortunately, it’s so fine you can’t feel it grinding away the enamel on your teeth. The scenery makes up for all this. If you wait for the dust to settle you can get some great photos.

Tomorrow we’re on our way to Watson Lake. We’re getting close to the Yukon now.

(Sorry, no pictures, I can’t find the camera cord. It’s probably in the truck and I’m ready for bed. I’ll put them in the next blog.) 

Mile Zero of the Alaska Highway

Not a lot of pictures this time. Not a lot of news, for that matter. We left Columbia Falls, Montana, bright and early (well, not really early, but for me it wasn’t late, either). We retraced our path from the day before around the southern end of Glacier National Park and on around up the eastern side. We couldn’t haul the trailer across the Highway to the Sun, which crosses the park almost in the center. There is still wondrous scenery, but not as great as that in the park itself. After rounding the “bottom” of the park we headed north up the eastern side and into Canada.

In Canada we saw gorgeous grain fields and vast acres of something with yellow flowers that we didn’t recognize. It obviously was a crop, not just wildflowers, despite their beauty. We stopped at a restaurant not far from the border for lunch and the lady who waited on us informed us the crop is canola. So now we know where canola oil comes from. Canola was developed from rapeseed by two Canadians. According to Wikipedia, the name comes from Canadian Oil Low Acid. It is considered very healthy for humans, and the crop is also made into cattle feed. It has become a major cash crop in many places in the world. Turns out we get more than just petroleum oil from Canada. The Canadians are drilling. We saw quite a few oil wells and a number of drilling rigs.

The United States and Canada have indeed been blessed by God and we should be very careful to remember to thank Him. An example of how blessed we’ve been on this trip took place in the afternoon not far south of Calgary, home of the famous Calgary Stampede, an almost month-long rodeo that takes place every summer. We were tootling along without a care in the world when all of a sudden we heard a whump-whump-whump and the trailer started pulling oddly. Sure enough. Another blowout. This time, though, we realized what had happened in time to avoid ruining the rim, although the tire was torn all to pieces.

This time, too, Gary was ready with the hydraulic jack, I didn’t have to haul a board out to whack him and a kind gentleman on the service road hopped through the barb-wire fence and hurried over to help us. We are greatly indebted to Mr. Lloyd Haven, who lived nearby. While Gary lay on the ground and operated the jack, Mr. Haven removed the lug nuts, I rolled the new tire up (thank the Lord, we’d bought a new one “just in case” in South Dakota), the two of them wriggled it on and Mr. Haven tightened the nuts. Gary let the jack down, and after exchanging handshakes and getting some advice on getting through Calgary during rush hour, we went on our merry way.

We spent the night at a campground near Calgary and next morning hauled buggy for a tire store. A nice young man replaced three of the tires on the trailer and we kept the best of the three old ones  for a spare. One of the ones we were riding on was the repaired spare we had put on in Yellowstone. It is a used tire, but in good shape. Our five-year-old ones were apparently dry rotting. There was a split starting in one of the ones that was pulled off. So now we are rolling on four new tires and have two spares just-in-case.

We have been a bit surprised at how warm it’s been, but the lack of humidity keeps it reasonable. The countryside is beautiful rolling prairie lush with crops, cattle and horses. We have seen many camping trailers and RVs also. Apparently a lot of Canadians head south for the winter, just like they do in the States.

Gary stops often to check the tires. So far they’re doing fine. At one of our stops we pulled into a rest stop and brewed a pot of coffee. While we were waiting on the coffee to drip, a fellow pulled up and asked if we were using the picnic table. We told him to help himself and offered some fresh coffee. He declined, but we sat down for a chat while he ate his sandwich. We were intrigued by his cap, which had a slogan: “God is Good. All the Time.” Turned out he was on his way to Bible Camp to pick up his wife. He reminded us of another friend, born in Canada, the minister who married us, Mr. Fred Gladstone. We had a nice chat with him. His name is Charles Almond—he said “a real nut.”

We spent Friday night at a really neat campground near Sangudo, Alberta, just west of Edmonton. There were a number of “local” people who lived only an hour or so away who came to spend the weekend or a week. It reminded us of Daddy Joe’s back home. Quite a few of the campers knew each other from previous outings. The couple who own the place have a museum of odds and ends they’ve collected from estate sales and such over the last four years. They also have a cabin from pioneer days they bought, had moved to the site and set up complete with wood cook stove, a cowhide and bearskin, plus all sorts of old-fashioned tools and things.

In the yard is an outhouse with a stuffed scarecrow-like figure “peeping” in a hole in the side. The door invites you to see “what Tom is peeping at.” I couldn’t resist, opened the door, and a claxon-like alarm sounded that could be heard throughout the campground. I didn’t even look around to see who was laughing at another sucker being caught. There were also antique tractors and cars set up around the property. One neat thing they recycled was the drums of old washing machines with drainage holes all over them. They had handles and a set of wheels welded or screwed on and were used as firepits.

We were parked next to a couple who had their campsite enclosed by a plastic fence to keep their two shih tzus from wandering away. They lived only an hour or so away and came to the park often. They gave us some information about the Alaskan Highway and ensured us that we are in for a real treat.

Today we headed northwest again, and are spending the weekend in a nice, shady campground in Dawson Creek, “MILE ZERO OF THE ALASKAN HIGHWAY.” We lost another hour and are into the Pacific Time Zone. We can only get the Edmonton Canadian Television channel on TV. Guess I didn’t want to watch it anyway!

Thanks to all those who are praying for us. We are having a wonderful time and, except for the problems with tires, have had a great trip so far. Maggie had all but stopped talking, but this afternoon she has apparently found her voice again. She has been begging to “go sew,” calling “Gary!!” and whistling up a storm. I guess the air in British Columbia agrees with her.

Glacier National Park

After leaving Butte, we traveled north in Montana through some beautiful country. Part of the time we followed the Flathead River. The valley floor, scoured by glaciers, was bordered by rugged mountains on both sides. It was obvious that fishing is a big industry along with agriculture and ranching.

The valley was dotted with ranches. We were amazed at the irrigation systems. One end is anchored at a well, then the huge, long frames, holding sprayers, roll around on tires in a huge circle. (While it’s dry in general, there is obviously a lot of water underground.) Under the irrigators the fields are various shades of green and ripple with wheat, alfalfa and other crops. Where two irrigators cross paths there is often a pie-shaped piece of barren ground where big stacks of hay bales are stored.

Now we are back at our camper after a day spent in one of the most awe-inspiring places on earth. I always thought Yellowstone and the Tetons were the most scenic places in this country. I’ve changed my mind. We are both so glad that Gary sat next to the man at Old Faithful who recommended we stop here. I wish we had gotten his name or e-mail address. Gary gave him a card with our website on it and I only hope he reads this blog so he will know how much we appreciate the advice.

We left Columbia Falls, where we have the camper set up in an RV park, about nine in the morning. We fueled up the man truck, grabbed a bite of breakfast and headed for the park. At first it seemed almost like a routine national park. We went to a visitor center, got a map of the roads through the park, and headed east on the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

The first part of the trip we just wound around the edge of Lake McDonald. The water in the lake is a beautiful shade of green. Gradually we left the valley floor and began winding around a mountain road that eventually fell off to what appeared to me to be at least a million feet. Any of my family can tell you I have a strong stomach and love traveling in the mountains, but some of the views we passed made my stomach lurch. I wouldn’t have missed this trip for anything, but I reminded Gary constantly to watch the road and let me take pictures for him to look at later. To say that the view was breathtaking is a huge understatement. I only wish the pictures had a hint of the beauty and majesty of the actual scenes in them.

There was one stretch of road that was not blasted from the side of the mountain in the way these roads so often are built. This stretch runs over a “shelf” left by the huge glacier that carved part of the valley. The only thing between us and a million-foot drop was a low rock wall. I told Gary I didn’t know whether to wear my seat belt or not. It was hard to decide whether it would be better to be thrown from the truck and die instantly, or to ride the truck belted in all the way down so I wouldn’t miss the scenery as it passed by.

I know this sounds scary, but it was well worth the terror of riding along the edge of eternity. At every curve in the road there was a more beautiful vista. I told Gary I wish I had brought my thesaurus. There must be another adjective to use besides awesome. If you have a thesaurus handy, pick it up and fill in the blank.

One interesting note about Glacier: There is an extension of Glacier in Canada called Waterton Lakes National Park. The two together are known as the Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park World Heritage Site. We really enjoyed visiting Canada last spring and met some great people there. As one Canadian told me, “The US-Canadian border is only an imaginary line on a map. We are essentially the same people.”

We spent our entire day driving through and around Glacier, and if we weren’t so tired (I rode the brake and “helped” Gary drive every inch!) I’d go again tomorrow. And go we will, but this time, Lord willing, we’ll be pulling the Prowler and heading around the south end of the park, up the east side and on to Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

One note: If you plan to come here, we’d recommend spending several days. There is just so much you can see as a “drive-by,” but we have to keep on keeping on. This is one of those places you should drive straight to and then spend several days exploring. That would, of course, be the ideal way to plan a visit to any of the national parks. The really mind-blowing thing to us was the young, healthy, lean, young people “doing” Glacier on bicycles. There are several concessions in the park that carry groups of sightseers in buses with canvas tops that roll back. We could not take the trailer into the park past a certain point. On the Road-to-the-Sun there is a length limit of 21 feet overall for vehicles. I won’t continue the drivel, but let the pictures speak for themselves.

America the Beautiful

We have covered well over 3,000 miles and enjoyed most minutes of it. Had one little incident that I’ll describe later. After leaving Iowa City we drove through Iowa and into South Dakota. Awesome is such an overused word these days that I hesitate to describe the scenery using it, but it’s the first one that comes to mind.

Everywhere we go it seems that each state has its own type of beauty that makes it distinct from the ones surrounding it. South Dakota has a lot of corn, not so much as Iowa, but a lot. Its fields look different though, because there are a lot of other crops grown here also. The wind rippling across the fields makes them look literally like a green sea. There is a loop road that runs through the Badlands National Park and we decided to spend the hour or so it was supposed to take and were we ever glad we did! The Badlands appear to be desert, and I supposed technically they are, but it’s also alive with flora and fauna. We had a good laugh when we rounded a curve, saw some little mounds, and up popped one groundhog, then another. I’m including some pictures, but nothing can do justice to the  sight of the clay and rock formations stretching to the horizon. The Badlands may be aptly named, but they are beautiful.

I told Gary it’s a good thing that Algore wasn’t here 35 million years ago when these formations were supposedly formed. (The whole area looks suspiciously like runoff from a really big Flood to an untrained dimwit like myself.) All this beauty and “badness” is the result of “climate change.” Another irony is that the black-footed ferret, once thought to be extinct, is alive and well and ferreting around in the Badlands.

A little aside here. I heard that some folks reading the blog did not realize you can click on the pictures and enlarge them. Also, if you hold the cursor on the picture for just a second before clicking a title of sorts shows up. It’s usually pretty abbreviated, but gives an idea of what is being shown.

After the Badlands, Mount Rushmore was almost a letdown. It’s impressive, but somehow God’s handiwork seems to win out for creativity. But we did the Mount Rushmore thing, bought a coffee mug for my “Tacky Coffee Mug Museum,” and had some nice soft ice cream. We called the campground where we’d made reservations, told them we’d be late and headed for Mitchell, South Dakota, where we spent the night.

Gary noticed when we set up the camper that one of the tires was a little slack. He pumped it up, and next morning had new valve stems put in all the trailer tires while we ate breakfast at the local grocery/deli/grill. I found out that “German Eggs” consist of bits of ham, sausage and bacon mixed with shredded hash browns, all held together with scrambled eggs. Quite tasty! After visiting “The Corn Palace,” off we rolled, into Wyoming. The Corn Palace is a building in downtown Mitchell that has different scenes “painted” on it every year with ears of corn, shocks of wheat, etc. It’s unusual to say the least.

Another state, different scenery. Wyoming is truly cowboy country. The crops here ran more and more to hay and wheat and less corn. We also saw pronghorn antelope feeding in fields as if they had no cares in the world. They probably know when hunting season starts.

Early Friday afternoon we pulled into Yellowstone National Park. Wouldn’t you know it. I had bought a $10 senior citizen’s pass to all the national parks and we pull into Yellowstone on a day when they were letting everyone in free.

Fortunately, Gary had called ahead and gotten us a reservation at a campground named Bridge Bay, about 30 miles from the east entrance. A lot of folks were turned away. We’d gone about a mile when a fellow motioned us to pull over. When we did he yelled that we were running on a rim on one of the rear trailer tires. Ouch! Sure enough, the tire was shredded and part of it was caught on the axle.

Travel trailers can’t be jacked up like cars. The jacker has to crawl part-way underneath the thing and contort himself in order to work the jack. It’s not a pretty sight, watching a fat guy do such a thing. And of course, helpful soul that I am, I fetched things like the 2×6 that Gary needed to set the jack up on. I tried to pass the board to him just as he stuck him arm out from under the trailer and added to his collection of bruises and scratches from various activities connected to setting up and leveling the camper.

By the time the tire was changed we were in less than jolly moods, b the beauty of the place soon reaches in and puts the bad mood on the run. We saw beautiful lake views and some fumeroles on the way to the campground. The wild flowers made streaks of purple and splotches of pink, yellow and white along the roadsides and especially when we passed the meadows. There are acres and acres of dead and fallen trees, the results of the fires that periodically sweep the park. We got set up pretty quickly, ate a bowl of cereal for supper and crawled into bed. About four a.m. I crawled back out to get more cover. The temperature had fallen into the forties.

Next day we decided to visit Old Faithful, then retrace part of our route and head south to see the Tetons and Jackson Lake. We had to wait at Old Faithful for about an hour, but, right on time, thar she blew. A man sitting next to Gary asked if we were going to Glacier National Park. We hadn’t planned to, but we’re nothing if not flexible, and changed our plans then and there. He gave us a map and showed us the best route to take.

We didn’t go to church Sunday, but I can’t imagine anyone seeing the Grand Tetons and Jackson Lake and not experiencing worship. If seeing all the beauty that God created out of something as violent as volcanic eruptions and floods does not fill your heart with reverence, awe and worship of the all-powerful God of the universe, I don’t know what could. To see all this and realize that God cares enough for me (and you, of course) to make it possible for me to live in His presence forever is most humbling.

My daily Bible readings have been in Psalms the last few days and Psalm 19 sums it up in the first verse: The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament shows His handiwork. What can you add to that but, “Amen”?

Sunday afternoon while Gary was cooking our steaks for dinner a bad thunderstorm came up. There were high winds and hail. One poor fellow camping across the drive from us was grilling some kind of meat for his wife and four kids (who were in the tent) and he didn’t even have a tarp over the grill. One couple had an obvious marital spat, she got in the car, he packed up the tent and they left. You can see human nature at its best and worst in a campground.

Late in the day there was a little commotion in the next drive over from us. An elk was calmly eating his dinner, browsing among the trailers, tents and million-dollar motor homes getting a taste of the great outdoors. We had to be very careful not to even leave a cup of water sitting on a picnic table. The bears are attracted by most anything—and Gary saw evidence that during the night they had checked us out.

On the drive back from Jackson Lake we had come around a curve and saw a line of traffic crawling along, barely moving. It took a few seconds to figure out the reason. A huge buffalo was ambling along in the traffic lane, just like he was a car. He went on for several hundred yards, the cars all slowing to accommodate him. Finally he ambled on off the road, ignoring the cameras clicking like crazy all around him.

I wish everyone could visit Yellowstone and The Tetons. I wish the pictures did justice to the sights we saw.

This morning we battened everything down, hooked up the man truck and headed north. We are now in Butte, Montana, from where we will head for Glacier National Park tomorrow. Then it’s into Canada and headed for Alaska. It doesn’t take much driving in Montana to see why it’s called “Big Sky Country.” Everything else may be bigger in Texas, but Montana has the most visible sky anywhere. It’s something that has to be seen, not just described.

We found a tire store in Livingston, Montana, and bought an extra tire and rim for the trailer. We are now also the proud owners of a hydraulic jack that will make the process of tire changing a lot easier and faster.

Sorry if the blog is erratic. Our cell phone service and wi-fi have been very intermittent. The only place we had cell service in Yellowstone was at Old Faithful, and again today when we got to the north entrance.

Corn, Corn, Everywhere!

            We are safely docked in our campsite near Iowa City, Iowa. The captain had to back the camper in, a feat comparable to docking in a moderate wind or a strong current. We had a lovely travel day. It started out pretty cool, and I changed my usual khaki shorts for long pants when we stopped for breakfast. Yes, that cool! But it warmed up as the day went on and by late afternoon was in the 80’s. Not too bad, though, as there’s so little humidity.

            We spent last night in a place called Enon Beach, Ohio. I have discovered that “beach” is a relative term. This one looked more like one of the fish ponds you see along Highway 701 near Tabor City than a real beach. Neither Gary nor I was tempted to put on a bathing suit. Of course, if you’ve lived all your life within a short drive of the Atlantic Ocean, it’s hard to imagine life without a real beach. It wasn’t a luxury campground, but it was almost dark and we just needed water and electrical hookups.

            If watching corn grow is your thing, I have a thrill of a lifetime trip for you! Start in Ohio and let the green grow and build in your heart. Most of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Iowa seem to be covered with cornfields. Granted, there are cities sticking up among the fields from time to time, and the corn is occasionally replaced by a soybean field, but mostly it’s corn as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful country, though—rolling hills covered in various shades of green. The farmhouses and silos stick up like images on a postcard and paste dots of color in the otherwise green landscape.

            We left Bull Run fairly early, but not so early as to hit the morning rush around Washington.. You have to be insane to drive in the traffic around there. Maybe that explains some of the recent insanity that seems to have spread far and wide in and around I-495. Avoiding rush hour gave us time to tidy up the camper from our wild party the night before. Cramming six people (at least three of them of the large variety), a large dog and a parrot cage into a 27-foot travel trailer makes for a wild party, even if the strongest drink there is iced tea. But a good time was had by all.

I’ve included a picture of the dreaded pumpout. Anyone who’s seen the movie RV with Robin Williams will be impressed. Anyone who hasn’t seen it ought to rent it. The pumpout scene is worth the price of the rental.

We have covered quite a few miles since leaving Pocomoke on Monday. We plan to spend tomorrow night in South Dakota and will decide whether to swing by Mount Rushmore or keep on keeping on until we get to Yellowstone. Decisions. Decisions.

Maggie is traveling just great. She sits on the back passenger headrest most of the time, or climbs in her “hammock” to catch a few winks. We don’t even put her in the cage now when we stop, just leave the top of the cage open with a perch across it in case she needs to get in to eat or drink. I have one of those indestructible rib cord bedspreads that is at least 30 years old. It makes a great catchall for covering the truck seat and can be thrown in the wash every couple of days.

So far breakfast has been our only store-bought meal. We’ve saved a good bit by eating sandwiches for lunch and cooking up some of the fresh veggies Gary cadged from a farmer in Pocomoke. After living on the boat eight months with no oven, the camper kitchen is luxurious—a three-burner stove top with a small oven, a microwave and a refrigerator about three times as large as the one on the boat is heaven.

Overall our trip has been pretty uneventful—so far. The roads are really good in some places and really bad in others. We actually saw some of Little James’s ARRA dollars at work today repaving some interstate highway in Illinois. It was badly needed so I hope that by the time James is gainfully employed and paying our share of the taxes it’s going to cost that he can appreciate it. We sure do!

Yesterday we had some unusually bad stretches and had the first minor (relatively speaking) mishap since our first excursion with the Prowler. We learned on that first trip to bungee cord certain cabinet doors closed and not to leave anything lying around that might crash into something else and break it. We thought we’d gotten pretty good at stashing and stowing, what with all our experience on the boat, but when we stopped for lunch yesterday we discovered a canister of flour had crashed through the pantry door and spilled all over the floor.

It is not fun to clean up flour. But the remaining flour is now secured in a screw-top canister and lashed securely in place. If you ever plan a cross-country trip in a camper, call me and I’ll give you a lot of tips.

I apologize for the quality of some of the pictures. It evidently got into the grape juice. There seems to be a purple tint on some of them that should be green. For the pictures of our camp at Bull Run Regional Park, I thank Marty Christ. The pictures I took there are horrible.

On the Road, not the River

            First things first. Most of you reading this probably started reading our blog as we were doing America’s Great Loop, which we put on hold last December when we took a break and headed home for North Carolina and Gary’s appointment with an orthopaedist. Since then our friends on Li’l David, Lorenzo and Delois Johnson, have looped on around Florida and are back in Holden Beach.

Our own big news is the arrival of our first grandchild, James Timothy Walker, who was born in Wilmington, North Carolina, on June 11, 2009. He weighed 8 lbs, 2 ozs, and is the delight of our lives as well as of his parents, our youngest son Bill and his wife Melissa.

We have put our Great Loop adventure on hold for the time being and have become landlubbers for awhile. Gary’s knees have healed nicely, and although he tires more easily than he did before, the freedom from pain in his knees has been worth the pain of the rehabilitation and we decided to spend hurricane season on a road trip, hopefully to Alaska. I say hopefully, because we made no plans further than Manassas, Virginia, where our middle son Edward and his wife  Becky visited us, along with a couple we met on the Loop, Marty and Barb Christ. This trip is a spur of the moment, take life one day at a time affair.

            We left Tabor City about 9:30 a.m. on July 10 headed for Pocomoke City, Maryland. We arrived about six and Gary set up our 27-foot Prowler camping trailer in his sister Janet’s driveway. Saturday we spent resting, visiting with family and attending Gary’s 45^th high school reunion. We had a nice time at the reunion, which was held in the old Marva Theater, which has been restored for just such a purpose. Seems the reunions end a little earlier each time we attend one. We were back in the camper by 11:30 Saturday night.

            Sunday was spent visiting with more family and getting reacquainted with some of the younger ones we hadn’t seen in quite awhile. It was great seeing Gary’s brother and his family and his sister and her granddaughter who came by for a few hours.

            We got things battened down so that we could pull out early Monday morning and head for Manassas. We had a nice drive through some typical Eastern Shore scenery and crossed the Chesapeake near Baltimore on the Bay Bridge. The Bay looked calm and quiet today and we reminisced about the last time we were here sailing under the bridge instead of driving across it. We skirted DC and found our campsite at Bull Run Regional Park quite easily.

            The campground is beautiful. The sites are clean and easy to enter and exit. We didn’t even unhook the Prowler, just leveled it and hooked up the amenities and began preparations for dinner. Ed and Becky, along with their newly adopted bulldog, Zoey, arrived soon after we got set up. It was great seeing them and meeting our new granddog. Maggie was ready to defend her territory, but Zoey plopped down on the floor and Maggie retreated to the top of her cage, from which she kept a close eye on the intruder.

            Marty and Barb then arrived and the non-stop talking began. They had brought goodies, including an Amish peach praline pie, which tasted as good as it sounds. But first Gary grilled steaks, to which we added some fresh corn on the cob, baked new potatoes, and tomatoes and squash cut up and marinated in vinaigrette dressing.

            We won’t get to tour the park because we plan to push on toward the west at a fairly good pace. We’d like someday to return and make a tour of Civil War battle sites, but that can wait for another day. We’re much more likely to be able to do that than to get another chance to tour the west, so we’re putting that trip on hold and keeping our sights on Alaska for now.

            Tomorrow we plan to drive to Ohio, and hopefully we’ll soon have more information to share. The pictures below include: Gary, Edward and Zoey; the Chesapeake on a beautiful calm day; Sweet Baby James in his mom’s lap.