September 22, 2014

Meanwhile, back on Maui…

Yes, we made it through another incredible summer in Canada and are happily home on Maui. The four months went quickly, especially as we spent three weeks on the road in our Jeep – almost the whole month of August.

Jim, Joy, Shane and Peter at dinner in Winnemucca

When last I wrote we were in Jackson California, visiting the Fullers and loving the gold-rush history of the place. Our next stop was Roseville to see my dear friend Katie and her wonderful husband Chuck. We had a full schedule: a trip to Nevada City to walk the old gold-mining town, a visit to Old Sacramento, Jim’s tour of the Crocker Museum, and Katie and I managed a couple of thrift-store stops as well. All of that in two days!

Desert views

We headed east to Reno and played for a couple of days at the Circus Circus casino, and then drove to Winnemucca where we rendezvoused with cousins Shane and Peter. They were heading in the direction we had just come from – near Jackson. We enjoyed a terrific Chinese meal at China Garden Restaurant (yes, this is a huge recommendation!) and the next morning we parted ways. Our route took us to Elko, then north through Owyhee to Boise Idaho. The scenery was spectacular in its desert bleakness. From Boise to Lewiston, again through incredible scenery as we gained elevation, then to Missoula Montana over the Lolo Pass, and north to Canada.

Shortly after returning to the ranch we experienced a rare but not unheard-of snowstorm with the heaviest snowfall recorded in 130 years. And cold. Oh my. Morning temperatures in the 20s. We kept a fire going in the wood stove and turned up the gas heat but it was still difficult to work up the enthusiasm to go out to the outhouse when nature called. The 10-12 inches of snow around the house melted off within a week and the weather turned into Indian Summer on steroids. The poplar leaves started changing and we were treated to a breathtaking array of colors.

Heavy snow, morning light on the mountains

The family got together on the 14^th for a memorial for Dad, spreading his ashes on “Boot Hill”, a slope on the East Ridge with a panoramic view of Happy Valley with the Rockies in the background. Mom enjoyed the day and seeing her family, in spite of the purpose of the gathering, and even cracked a few jokes amid the tears. A few days later we celebrated her 92^nd birthday with a private lunch at Cottonwood. She is Superwoman disguised as a little old lady. Amazing.

Dad's memorial celebration up on the ridge

Jim spent a lot of time in his studio this summer, producing some lovely oil paintings that are now for sale at Against the Grain on Main Street in Nanton. If you’re in the area, please go see his artwork. And some of my bags and aprons are there as well – it’s a family effort! With the rain and flooding in June, our trip away during August, and snow and flooding in September, the fishing wasn’t too productive but I have a good feeling about next year: The fish I didn’t catch will be bigger and more plentiful!

May the sun forever shine on Dad's resting place

Finally the day came when we had to pack up, clean and tidy our house at the ranch and get the laundry done at Shane and Peter’s house. The next day we left for the airport and I’m glad to report another successful, stress-free flight on WestJet got us safely home. The good weather followed us and Maui is definitely the place to be as Winter finds its way to Southern Alberta.

Thanks for coming along with us this summer. See you again next year when we head off for who-knows-where?

Thursday, August 14

California Bloggin’

It’s Day Twelve of our journey to the Golden State and back and it has been a hoot. Right upfront let me get this out of my system: California needs signs! With complete information: highway numbers, arrows, distances and maybe even a mention of a ferry terminal where one exists. While the motto of Oregon drivers is “I’d rather go really fast and kill someone than drive the speed limit and piss ‘em off”, the California motorists’ motto is: “Signs? We don’t need no stinkin’ signs! We got GPS.” Well, some of us don’t and it sure would be nice to know where the Larkspur Ferry Terminal is, if it exists, which we doubt, but that’s another story.

On August 2 we waved goodbye to Canada, then waved again, then again… it took an hour and a half to get through the border crossing south of Cranbrook. Once we reached Idaho it was smooth driving to Sandpoint. On this, our first day on the adventure, we did not have motel reservations as Jim’s thinking was, “How busy can it be?” After driving around the town a few times, stopping at half a dozen motels that were so busy they hadn’t had time to put out the NO Vacancy sign, we opted for a “spa suite” (Jacuzzi in the room) at a Days Inn on the north side of town. And then it was time for the highlight of the day: pizza at Second Avenue Pizza! Don’t miss it if you’re ever in Sandpoint.

As we finished our dinner I noticed the wind coming up and then a huge tree branch flew across the sky and we knew something was happening. The power went out just about then and we packed up the rest of our pizza and went out the door. It was bizarre, only 7 pm but really dark, thunder and lightning and the wind was ferocious. We got in the Jeep to make the 10-minute drive back to the hotel and discovered trees down, limbs crashing into cars, roads covered side-to-side in small branches and ripped-off leaves. We had to keep detouring through the old neighborhoods and when we finally made it to the one and only road out of town to the north, it was blocked by emergency crews and traffic. Power had failed for the entire town. So of course, no traffic lights anywhere, and all the intersections were dicey. Finally we drove all the way across the causeway south to the other side of the lake, turned around and managed to drive all the way back to Ponderay and our hotel on the new bypass that goes right through the town but has no on-ramps! It took us over an hour to get there. Sirens, lightning and wind all night. The electricity came back on at 3:45 a.m., which meant, of course, we had no opportunity to use our “spa.” Oh well.

Days Inn sign blew down during the Sandpoint storm

The long drive to Lewiston passes through spectacular farming country, full of low, rolling hills and old farmsteads in the Palouse area. The town of Lewiston is a treasure – historic old buildings and meandering streets along the Snake and Clearwater rivers. Wildfires all around kept the air thick and orangey so there wasn’t a Kodak Moment during our stay. And then we were away to Pendleton Oregon, a place neither of us has visited, and where the underground tunnel tours are famous – and don’t happen on Tuesdays – when we were there. So we opted for a tour of the world-famous Pendleton Wool Factory – which was on a different schedule than we were told. We ended up leaving Pendleton with a bag of wool off-cuts and a “maybe next time” promise.

Down the Columbia River Gorge to Portland the air was really bad with thick smoke but we were able to see Mt. Hood to the south and Mt. St. Helens to the north.

Mt. Hood

Have you driven to/through Portland? Not pleasant, is it? We were so glad to be through that city and on the western outskirts (Beaverton), although we’re still shaking our heads at the thought that one must travel the freeway to go to dinner a mile away. Perhaps we’ve lived on Maui too long. Dinner at the Olive Garden was well worth the white-knuckle experience and we managed to get back to the motel via surface roads, with only three wrong turns. Dang those one-way streets!

The Oregon Coast was our destination the next day and we made it to the Tillamook Cheese Factory with no problem, picked up our requisite three pounds of cheese, and turned south. This is highway we hadn’t traveled before and we found it interesting but not as spectacular as we had hoped. True, Highway 1 goes through some wonderful rain forest, along wide expanses of beach and pounding surf, and has a never-ending view of offshore rocks, promontories and little old fishing villages… but it gets a little repetitive. We spent the night in Lincoln City then traveled on to Coos Bay, then to Crescent City California and to Ukiah.

Generic Oregon coastline

Jim decided at the last minute to drive to Novato via the coastal route so we headed west through Boonville and found the narrowest, windiest, wildest two-lane highway since the road to Hana. Some places were too narrow for a centerline; some spots had 500-foot drop-offs on both sides, few stretches had guardrails. Oh, what fun. Jim drove and I laughed. When we reached the ocean at Port Arena it was my turn to drive and Jim’s turn to laugh. Highway 1 hugs the coastal cliffs in a series of tight s-curves and dips and, of course, we were on the outside. Did I mention the lack of guardrails? By the time we got to Jenner I was bug-eyed with tension and Jim took over.

As we got closer to San Francisco I got in touch with my old friend Stella who lives in San Anselmo. She and I worked together in the printing business 35 years ago on Maui and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. We checked into our motel in Novato then made our way to Stella’s house for dinner with her and her gorgeous son, Nick. A lovely evening, ending with plans to go into the city with her the next morning.

It wasn’t to be – Stella had a job interview to prepare for and her daughter arriving for a visit, so Jim and I were on our own for the day. We were told to take the Larkspur Ferry to Fisherman’s Wharf. We’re pretty sure the Larkspur Ferry is a myth. By the time we realized we weren’t going to find it, we were all the way down to Tiburon, and finally managed to find that ferry terminal but only by stopping a cyclist and asking where the heck it was! Truly, signs would be helpful, California.

Jim on the Tiburon Ferry to San Francisco

Joy on the hill to Coit Tower

Our day in the big city was wonderful: clam chowder at Fisherman’s Wharf, people-watching, and then the Big Hike up to Coit Tower and then down to Market Street where Jim found the old office building where he worked as an architect in the early 70s. He had a terrific day, recognizing places and remembering times and people he knew back then. We caught the ferry back to Tiburon only to hear of the death of Robin Williams that very day in that very town. Shock and grief were stamped on faces everywhere, and my friend Stella was personally struck by this sadness. She has known him since their Mill Valley days when they often double-dated.

Well, after the frenetic pace of freeways and traffic we were happy to head east to Jackson where we’re spending a few days with one of Jim’s oldest friends. Clark and Suzanne have a lovely home in the hills with easy access to everything one could ask for: thrift stores for me, bakeries for Jim and casinos for all. We’re about to go exploring Sutter Creek right now so I’ll give this a rest and post it tomorrow morning. Sorry it’s so long but, well… it has been 12 days and I do like to talk story.

Melancholy Musings

Wednesday, July 23

            Sorry about the title of this entry but it seems to fit, as you will see.

            On Friday we sold our trusty old RV. It gave us 10 summers of wonderful adventures, very little trouble and a lifetime of memories. But it was time. We’ve been talking about selling it for several years but always had that, “Aw, what a great way to travel” moment and found ourselves emptying, cleaning and winterizing it at the end of each summer in Canada. Last year, though, the RV was marooned on the wrong side of the flood and we were forced to drive our little Jeep on our jaunt to Montana and – guess what? – it was a hoot!

            We bought YuneYit (long story, but that’s what we called it) in 2005, sight-unseen, from a family in NE Calgary. Neither Jim nor I had ever driven an RV and the size of it was a little intimidating at first (even though it’s only 23 feet long – a shrimp compared to most of the rigs on the road) but we immediately set off on a 10,000-mile journey lasting two months.

            During that long first trip we visited friends from Maui — Hana and Wayne in Big Fork MT, Suzanna and Tom in Prescott AZ, Joe and Claire in Las Cruces NM, Linda and John at the Trigg Ranch in NM, Ron and Evelyn in Durant OK. We travelled to the Mexican border and back up to Toronto; we visited Jim’s old college in Ann Arbor Michigan and dipped our toes in four of the Great Lakes.

            In the ensuing years we travelled to Alaska, through most areas of Montana, Idaho and Washington State, all over Vancouver Island, just about everywhere driveable in British Columbia and Southern Alberta, and made an amazing trek to Yellowknife, NWT. Top Ten favorites (in no particular order): Whidbey Island WA, Nanaimo BC, Sandpoint ID, Dawson City Yukon, Kluane Dead Dog Hill in Nebesna Alaska, Yellowknife, Beaver Mines Lake Alberta, Crow Butte State Park WA, Highway 20 through northern Washington, Butte MT.

            And there were The Firsts:

            1^st campsite - Mountain Shadows in Sparwood, BC.

            1^st flat tire - near Devil’s Monument in Wyoming.

            1^st  breakdown - near Sandpoint, Idaho.

            1^st ‘let me outta here’ traffic - in Toronto.

            1^st crossing of the Mississippi - Memphis, Tennessee.

            1^st rat nest in the cabin - Kamloops, BC.

            1^st ‘we got in here, how do we get out’ moment - at a Tim Horton’s in Canmore Alberta.

            And so, we’re continuing our travels in the Jeep, not a bad thing at all. Since my last blog we’ve been at the ranch, enjoying the glorious views and the mostly fantastic weather. The creek is back to its clear, cold and narrow normality after the June flood; the black flies, deer flies and lazy flies arrived on schedule July 4 and will be gone next week; the mosquitoes are insatiable. But the fishing is good, Jim paints in his attic studio almost every day, and I have created several new bags in my own studio.

Smoky sunrise

I told you the mosquitoes are big!

            We had a lovely two-week visit with Sherry and Sharon (formerly of Maui, now from Sun City, AZ) who camped in their huge motorhome on the far side of the creek and joined us for meals and fun. Rick and Daphne, our camping/fishing friends from BC, arrived for a three-day visit as well — a great reunion. Peter and Shane drive out for a night or two with us each week and we have a quiet time, making minor repairs around the house, working on jigsaw puzzles and reading. We had about three days of thick smoke from the forest fires in BC, Idaho, Washington, NWT and Saskatchewan. It seemed no matter which way the wind blew, it brought smoke with it.

Jim at the top of the East Ridge, looking down at our home.

            Mom is doing better than ever at Cottonwood in Claresholm. Jim and I accompanied her to the Lethbridge Casino on the seniors’ bus a couple of weeks ago and she had such a good time she asked when we could do it again! Watching my 92-year-old mom playing the machines with a grin on her face and a sparkle in her eyes was worth every penny.

My brother fixing fence; it never ends, does it Tony?

            Today we’re in High River, staying with Peter and Shane. If the thunderstorms stay away we’ll be attending the High River Air Show tonight, with a special appearance by the Canadian Snowbirds. Tomorrow we’re off to the ranch again, to welcome our other cousins Brian and Hazel from Yellowknife. 

And then, sometime around the 1^st of August, we’ll be heading south to visit friends in California. Our potential route (subject to forest fires and weather) will take us through Idaho, down the Columbia River Valley, south on the coast to San Francisco, the back north through Sacramento, Reno and Idaho. In the Jeep. Staying in motels. Ah yes, I already miss YuneYit.

Monday, June 30 - "Civilization" Calls

I’m back with tales of our successful camping/fishing trip into BC… and our annual reunion with old friends. We rendezvoused with Sherry and Sharon Barnette (they lived many years on Maui, now in Arizona) and Rick and Daphne Hammond (old friends from Kimberley) at a small lake near Cranbrook. Barnettes drove their lovely large motorhome up from the States and Hammonds have a gorgeous new Winnebago trailer – while we camped in our old, reliable and basic Class C RV. The lake Rick chose this year is much smaller than previous ones we had camped at, with only 11 campsites and we had three of them. Absolutely quiet except for some howling wolves, screeching bald eagles and the plop of rainbow trout jumping in the evening.

            Jim and I tried out our new inflatable kayak and loved it, especially the mobility aspect. Rick rowed Sharon and me across the lake the first day and left us on the far shore to fish the hours away while Jim explored the shoreline and a small island from his kayak. Sharon and I had two hits but no fish that day, using worms for bait. The next day Jim marooned me at the same spot and I spent a full six hours fishing and loving the peace and quiet – and I caught a heckuva rainbow trout, releasing him to swim another day.

Jim enjoying our new inflatable Sea Eagle

 We had one excellent day of sunny, warm weather; the other four days were cloudy and rainy. Jim managed to get in some painting while Sharon, Daphne and I Scrabbled. And we shared the evening meals, each couple preparing the evening meal for everyone on successive nights. The mosquitoes enjoyed the buffet too.

            And on the last evening, we fished! Rick rowed us out to the fishing hotspot where he set us up with fly-fishing gear and away we went. Sharon hooked the first one and kept it. Then I pulled in a lovely 14-incher, then another and another and two more after that. Sharon caught a second one but released it. We kept Sharon’s and two of mine, releasing another four back to the water. Rick was kind enough to clean and fillet them and they’re now in our freezer to be served for breakfast one of these days.

Joy, Rick and Sharon after a successful fly-fishing excursion            

We left the lake on Friday and took our time coming back to the ranch, stopping in Kimberley and Cranbrook, then at a roadside park for a quick lunch, and finally in Blairmore to pick up some fantastic Indian food for supper. Recommendation: the Highwood Indian Restaurant in Blairmore – their food is authentic Indian and their buffet is only $12.95 (Canadian!) per person. We were home around 7; the roads have dried up and the bridge is passable, although Barnettes won’t be driving their 40,000-pound motorhome over it anytime soon. The creek is running muddy so I’ll have to wait a while to fish but if we don’t get any rain for a few days it will clear up quickly.

The view southwest from Hwy 22 just south of the ranch 

Cousins Shane and Peter drove out for a visit on Saturday; the first time we’ve seen Shane since she returned from a trip to England to see her mom. We had lunch and supper, worked on a jigsaw puzzle and took a drive west on Saddle Mountain Road just before sunset to view wildlife – lots of deer, no other critters.

            And now for the sad news: We have decided to sell our RV. We spent the last two days emptying it of all our gear and scrubbing it inside and out. This afternoon we’ll drive it into Claresholm to put it on consignment at a car dealer’s. If it sells we’ll use the Jeep for the rest of the summer; if it doesn’t sell… well, we won’t mind that either. This is our 10^th year in our little RV and we have loved every moment of every trip. So why are we selling? Well, with gas at $1.44/liter in BC (about $5.08/gallon in US funds), and the RV getting 8 miles per gallon…. we’ve done the math and know that driving the Jeep, staying in motels and eating in restaurants is no more costly than traveling in the RV. In fact, in many places such as Montana and Idaho, it’s cheaper. So, the upshot is we hope it sells but won’t mind if it doesn’t.

            We’re going into town today to see Mom, do our laundry and use the internet at the library so I can get this posted, pay a few bills, and catch up on the news. It’s really wonderful living here at the ranch without television, radio, wifi, and neighbors (other than my brother and sis-in-law, of course) – but sometimes one just has to get back to civilization, if just for a day, right?

           

Let's try this again, shall we?

Summer 2014

What do you call someone who celebrates her 65^th birthday sick as a dog with just days to pack and leave on an annual RV/Fishing/Wilderness jaunt?

What do you call someone who is pulled aside at the Maui airport and detained for well over an hour by TSA agents?

What do you call someone who is thrilled to pieces to be looking out the living room window at the ranch right now, with a view of nothing but pine trees, meadows, cattle and – oh yes – heavy storm clouds and a smattering of rain?

The answer to all three questions: That would be ME!

            Somehow or other I managed to come down with the mother of all colds on Sunday night, June 1, less than four days before we were to fly off to Alberta for four months. Two days later I turned 65 in a state of oblivion (I’ve been told that’s the best way to become eligible for Medicare); two days after that I heaved myself out of bed and turned into a whirlwind – cleaning, packing, sorting, storing. It felt good to get to the airport.

            It was a fleeting happiness. We checked in, got our boarding passes, and had just reached the line for security – note, we weren’t actually AT security – when I was singled out and told I had set off “an alarm.” Huh? What alarm? Where? A TSA agent escorted me off line, through the metal detector, swiped every morsel of every item in my carryon. No alerts there. So, it was into The Room and a full-on body pat-down and check of clothing, hands, feet, neck, you-name-it. The agent was wearing gloves, of course, and those went into the scanner and that’s when it hit the fan. Code Blonde went off. I was declared a suspicious figure I guess because I was put at the TSA desk, guarded by no less than two agents at any given time for the next hour or so. One more pat-down in The Room, another search of my carryon, my passport held.

            Now here I want to be clear about something: The TSA agents were terrific, polite, sympathetic, courteous and very professional. As their calls to “headquarters” went unanswered, and their confusion about my status increased, they (and by this time there were at least 6 or 8 of them involved in the caper) began apologizing for the delay and inconvenience. I found the whole thing interesting and not a bit stressful except for the part when Jim said, “I’m going to the restaurant and have dinner; see you at the gate.”

            With 10 minutes before boarding, the team told me I could go. There was no explanation about where, when, how and what set off “an alarm” but, at that point, I felt it was prudent to thank them for their service and head to the gate. Twenty minutes later we were on the plane. Hmmm, rather an auspicious start to our holiday, wouldn’t you say?

            We spent the first week in High River with Cousins Shane and Peter, visiting Mom (she’s doing so well!), shopping for ranch supplies, planning our various summer trips, and touring the town which is only now recovering from the devastation of last year’s historic floods. I fought jet lag and my cold in my spare time.

Sunday, June 15

            We arrived at the ranch yesterday, unpacked food and clothes, and spent a peaceful full-moon night, waking to thick fog and 45ºF temperatures. And now it’s raining. Fortunately, Jim has a fully equipped art studio in the attic and I have a fully equipped sewing room so we’re happy to be indoors. The creek is running high and muddy with the June rains and snow melt, so I won’t be fishing anytime soon. On Friday we’ll take the RV into Claresholm and camp for a couple of days so we can spend time with Mom. A week from today we’re heading to B.C. to meet our friends Rick & Daphne and Sherry & Sharon to camp at a lake for a week. Let the fishing begin!

            My access to Internet will be hit-and-miss all summer long so please don’t be offended if I don’t get right back to you. And if you’re one of my Words With Friends friends, well… take advantage of the extra time between plays. 

 Storm clouds on the prairie east of the ranch

 The storm has passed, the Rockies in view

Saturday, June 21

The 1^st day of Summer, we’re camped in Claresholm and have had a couple of sunny days after more flooding. Remember the rain I mentioned? It turned into five days of constant downpours, the creek rose, flooded the banks and hit the bridge, taking out the south approach. Good thing both vehicles were on the other side, eh? Fortunately, High River was spared this year but Claresholm was hard-hit; more than 40 homes had to be evacuated – flooded basements and roads like rivers.  Our campsite is in the dry half of the community campground. And all this took place on the one-year anniversary of the huge Flood of 2013.

            I’ll get this posted and try to get back here in a week or 10 days to give you the fishing report from BC. In the meantime, enjoy your summer and a big Aloha from both of us.

Well, this didn't turn out the way we planned.....

You know the expression, "If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans." He's having a great chuckle right now. We're well into our Canadian summer and all I can say it's a good thing we're flexible in our itinerary, our time and our travels.

We had reservations to fly to Calgary on June 4 and spend a full four months traveling the Canadian West in the RV, with regular overstays at the ranch and the nearby towns of High River and Claresholm. That was the first plan to be revised. I flew to Canada three weeks earlier than Jim so I could help my parents with various projects. Alberta in mid-May is brown and cold with few hints of the coming summer. I was glad to have lots of diversions. I spent a week in a guest suite at Cottonwood in Claresholm (the senior-living place where Mom and Dad live) and had the use of Dad's car to get around. The rest of the time I was in High River at Cousin Shane and Peter's house. By the time Jim arrived leaves were beginning to pop out on trees and lawn mowers were already in use. The growing season here is short and intense: Just add heat.

A few days after Jim's arrival we moved to Mom and Dad's house at the Webster Ranch. And what a pleasure it was to be home again. We spent the last four summers slowly refurbishing, updating and turning the 60-year-old place into our summer cabin and it's entirely welcoming and comfortable at this point. Mind you, it's still what I'd call "rustic" — wood-burning stove, no indoor toilet and no communications (read: no tv, no Internet, no cell phone service). Yes, we do have electricity, running water, hot shower and a phone. No, we don't have traffic noise, barking dogs, noisy neighbors, sirens, or bright lights. It's perfect. Well, perfect it would be if the creek were a little lower and clearer so I could get started fishing, but it was early June and I had plenty of time, right?

On June 19, we accompanied my brother and his wife, Tony and Debbie, to a conference on the growing problem of carnivore-livestock interaction: Bears, wolves and cougars attacking cattle and sheep. The gist of the all-day seminars was how to make your farm or ranch less attractive to these predators: Bear-proofing grain bins and feed storage units, erecting electric fences around pastures, and removing carcasses quickly and efficiently when an animal was killed. It was this last premise that got my attention. We visited Canada's first-ever livestock composting pilot project, located at the Cardston MD landfill. It opened in January with "Stinky Steve" plopped into the unenviable position of head composter - a job he has no training for, no mentors to guide him and no idea what he was in for, but he's doing admirably. It's on-the-job training, trial-and-error efforts that are paying off. He started with dozens of frozen carcasses — cows, calves, sheep, pigs and a horse or two — and a bedding of sawdust, his first mistake. Before long he realized that sawdust cakes and hardens so he switched to wood chips and straw, a combination that is working well. As we walked through the huge cement-floor building, past a dozen piles of composting critters I was struck by the overall cleanliness of the place; no runoff (due in part to the desert atmosphere of Southern Alberta), no offal, no "parts" in sight, and no odor of rotting meat. There was a strong ammonia odor, a result of not enough carbon in relation to the amount of nitrogen (the carcasses). At the conclusion of the conference Steve and I spent a few minutes going over the logistics of composting. He took note of a few ideas: using shredded paper as an additional carbon source and using the "set it and forget it" method to reduce nitrogen loss.

As we left the Cardston area we drove into a storm, a storm that would result in the worst flooding in Southern Alberta in recorded history. If you haven't heard about this disaster I suggest you look at the online videos, especially those of High River and downtown Calgary. The destruction is jaw-dropping. Our two-hour drive back to the ranch was a white-knuckle trip with the truck hydro-planing in low areas, continuous lightning, raging ditches and flooded fields as far as we could see. As we climbed into the mountains we were hit by hail and flood waters crossing the highway. Arriving at the bed 'n' breakfast, we found the little creek in full flood and, within an hour, the bridge to our house was under water and the approaches wiped out. Fortunately, Tony and Jim made a last-minute dash across the bridge and rescued a few necessities and our Jeep.

The next morning we were advised of a voluntary evacuation from our area so Jim and I left in the Jeep and headed for — great choice — High River! As we pulled into Peter and Shane's cul de sac we were pushing water with the front bumper, the adjoining streets were underwater and a raging river of mud and flood water was ten feet high through the yards of lovely riverside homes. Again, we were given a voluntary evacuation notice but decided to spend the night (sans power and phone) and see how high the water got in the park behind their house. It got deep but no more than three feet into their yard, well below the walkout basement level. On Friday morning it was no longer voluntary; the entire town was ordered out. Fortunately, we had time to unload the fridge and freezer and pack up both SUVs with food and essential; even more fortunately, we had a place to go: the ranch. The flood waters there were slowly receding and Tony had set up planks on the bridge ends. We parked our vehicles and walked across, hauling the loads in several trips. And there we stayed. Peter and Shane were finally allowed back into their house (no damage at all; they were among the small minority) nine days later. Jim and I stayed on for two weeks, coming back into High River two days ago. We toured the town Friday evening. The damage was incredible. Hundreds of homes destroyed, almost all of the historic downtown area in a soup of water and sewage, buildings condemned, roads torn up, the old railway tracks twisted like a strand of dna. The cleanup is going on all around us; hundreds of volunteers from as far away as Red Deer are bussed in every day, with shovels, mops, brooms, hazmat outfits, masks and rubber boots. The muck is thick, the air full of dust; dumpsters are overflowing with the ruined remains of people's homes.

 Our family has been so fortunate throughout this crisis — no damage to any of our homes or vehicles, no loss of property, no monetary hit. Yes, our RV is stranded on the "wrong" side of the bridge, but if that's the total effect this disaster has on us we'll count ourselves blessed beyond reason.

Tomorrow we're heading for Montana to visit Gillan and the girls for a couple of days. We'll be back at the ranch on the 14th. If the creek is clear I'll go fishing!

How to RV with the one you love

How to RV with the one you love

Many people have asked me how Jim and I survive a month or two living in a 23-foot RV, without severe damage inflicted on each other. Well, we adhere to PRAYER: Patience, Responsibility, Attitude, Yuks, Enthusiasm and Respect.

Patience: An 11-foot tall, 23-foot-long house on wheels isn’t fast. We lumber along at 90kph (55mph) most times. And when we camp, well patience is truly a virtue. Getting level, setting out the awning, opening up the windows, and – when available – hooking up to water, power and sewer – take time. Then there’s the patience involved when two people use one small bathroom, one small drawer each, a small half-closet; we’ve learned to pack lightly, wear dirty, and not be in a hurry.

Responsibility: Jim handles the outside – hookups, sewage dumps, gassing up, loading and locking the bikes, tire pressure, oil check, windshield washing, and stowing hoses and cords. I make the interior shipshape – everything in its place and locked down before hitting the road (nothing worse than a carton of milk and a dozen eggs spilling out of the fridge on the first corner). I fill up our travel mugs with fresh hot coffee, pull out two bottles of ice water, close and lock the windows, double-check cupboards and drawers, put the fridge on propane, raise the step and police the campsite. When we stick to our own tasks everything gets done and we’re on our way.

Attitude: One year the engine blew up just outside Sandpoint, Idaho. We spent two nights camped under the sign for Brown’s North Side Machine & Gear Repairs, deep in the industrial area. We had a blast. We biked the town, explored every corner, discovered the antique mall, went garage sale-ing, ate the best pizza ever, and decided Sandpoint is one of our favorite places. Thank you, blown engine! Hey, breakdowns happen, detours occur. Attitude can mean the difference between disaster and delight. We choose the latter.

Yuks: True story. A sign above the shopping carts in a discount store in Calgary reads: Women should not have babies in shopping carts. Uh, okay, I wouldn’t have thought it to be a problem, but…. The humor is everywhere, from full-on guffaw-inducing signs to eye-popping people. Watch for it. We share the foibles and fun with each other and never fail to appreciate the ridiculous around us.

Enthusiasm: Yes! Let’s go biking! Picking our own corn sounds like a hoot! I wouldn’t miss the gopher museum! A fifty-mile side trip to see the world’s largest tractor? You bet! Show a little enthusiasm for the suggestions pouring forth from the other seat. You never know when something he wants to do will turn into a highlight of the trip. We’ve seen the world’s largest, fastest, smallest, oldest, longest and shortest of just about everything because we get enthusiastic about the places we go and the people we meet.

Respect: Well, no, I really don’t want to see the gopher museum, not in this lifetime. I was just kidding. So, while Jim checks out the dead rodents dressed in period costumes of the area, I get to check out the thrift store. We meet later over coffee and compare notes and really listen to each other; it’s almost like I saw the stuffed gopher in his lederhosen against the Tyrolean diorama. Really!

See, life in a 23-foot RV just takes a little PRAYER. Hope you get a chance to try it out with the love of your life sometime.

 Camped at Twin Lakes, northern Alberta

 Near the Highwood Pass, Alberta