Christina Lake in morning light from Gail and Mike's summer cabin.
Gail and Mike at Christina Lake.
Wheat fields outside Almira, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
Derelict Drive In, Coulee City, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
Kitchen of a derelict Drive In, Coulee City, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
View from a derelict Drive In, Coulee City, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
Sage brush and scablands, near Coulee City, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
FOLLOWING KELOWNA, i drove south to Rock Creek, under cloudy skies. Late in the morning i came to Highway 3 and turned east to Grand Forks in the West Kootenays. I had received very detailed instructions from a friend named Mike, on how to find Gladstone Provincial Park, on Christina Lake. Reached the boat ramp just ahead of 3 pm, as arranged, and Mike turned up in a speed boat right on time. After parking the car we were soon zooming away from the shore and off the power grid. The cabin, built mostly back in the 1970s, was at the bottom of a steep hillside and just above the shore. Gail who is Mike's wife, their youngest son Justin and his friend, were there when we arrived. The structure was on three levels and my tiny bedroom was closest to the shore. I slept under the sprawling deck and within earshot of waves sloshing on the beach. Meals were prepared on the propane fueled stove and shared inside or out on the deck. On Sunday Mike took me in the boat to the head of the lake, for a short steep hike, which was like a tonic. We made it back before a mountain storm blew in. I stayed there Saturday afternoon to Monday morning, before returning to the car.
Route 2 near Coulee City, Eastern Washington State. U.S.A.
Cherry orchard outside Wenatchee, Eastern Washington State, U.S.A.
Back in Grand Forks, i was desperate to get on the internet, and learn what my daughter was up to in Europe, as Virginia my ex wife, was keeping me informed with short messages and iPhone images. Unfortunately, the local library was closed Mondays so i headed next to an internet cafe. Despite the excellent coffee, the connection to the world wide web was not available. On the sidewalk a senior who kindly told me where i could go, then changed her mind and pointed me instead to a picket fence at the end of the street. She said, if you like, go to my house instead. At the end of the fence you will find your way into the garden. Tell Jock that Betty Anne sent you and that i can use the computer. Part of me said forget it and the other said, come on, be curious! I spent a very comfortable half hour catching up on my email before thanking Jock, the gracious host, who was kind enough to put up with this talkative stranger in his house.
Now the United States appeared in the midday sun, like some main street in a Wild West town scene, otherwise known in this posting as Danville. At the tiny border crossing, the tension climbed as i was told to back the car up a few feet. The border guard, my age perhaps, asked what i might have to declare. Out of nowhere the tomato question came up. I said that i had kept some tomatoes in the car but they all got eaten a few days ago. That was not too clever on my part. To make things worse, i volunteered that i was carrying bear spray, for camping and hiking purposes only. Being armed to the teeth was of absolutely no consequence in this line of questioning, for entry into the U.S.A, but having my can of cayenne propellent next to the gear shift was quite another matter. Now i could almost hear the opening chord to some forgotten Spaghetti Western tune, playing plaintively in my frazzled brain. Right away he suggested that i might use the spray on him. Helpfully i suggested that i would be very happy to move the offending object to the back of the car. The response was "Don't touch it!" This was followed by his next directive which was drive the car over to the garage door for a search. Obediently i parked next to the building, opening all four doors and the hatchback while the official left me waiting for 10 minutes. Meanwhile i stewed in the shade. Two vehicles passed through while my background check was being conducted. My nemesis finally sauntered over for a very cursory search of the back of the car. Quite abruptly, it was a case of you can go, and soon i was motoring down a deserted highway into the hot afternoon.
My next stop was Republic. The local town planners had decided to rebrand it as a western town, so now the front street was repurposed with rough lumber facades. Perhaps the first impression was one of bewilderment upon seeing the once perfectly ordinary main street subjected to such a costume change. I stopped at the local Mexican restaurant for a plate of Tex Mex fare carpet-bombed with oily cheddar cheese and washed down with a refreshing pint of local microbrew beer.
Republic WA : Republic Washington
Route 21 led south down a long mountain valley and to the dammed Franklin D. Roosevelt Lake on the Columbia River. The Keller Ferry was also a transition into the Columbia Basin. An ascent up steep grades and around hairpin turns, led past roadcuts and under cliffs of columnar basalt. Once on top it was like an ocean – huge fields of wheat and alfalfa rolled off into haze and heat waves. Soon Wilbur appeared, on Route 2, as an eerie looking junction town out in this rolling expanse. Loaded up on water, juice and some fruit as the afternoon was very hot. Once out of town, i stopped en route at a graveyard, off the highway, and a top a gentle hill. Below was pretty Almira amongst clumps of trees in the middle of golden wheat fields. Continued west making another stop to visit a derelict Drive In, open to the elements and just on the outskirts of Coulee City. Beyond that was classic Channeled Scablands, as the river course in these parts is also known as. The term is comes from the unique geological erosion feature, created by the cataclysmic Missoula Floods that swept periodically across eastern Washington and down the Columbia River Plateau during the Pleistocene epoch (2.5 million to 11,000 years ago). Where to sleep however, was beginning to overtake great geological events. I visited the Sun Lakes State Campground but with the added day use fee of $10 plus the usual cost of camping, cheap motel accommodation was starting to look more cost effective. I passed the view point and canyon overlook, not stopping as the the park rangers were on the lookout for potential delinquent tourists, from their shaded building across the road.
Channeled Scablands - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Sun Lakes State Park, a Washington State Park
Finally, i arrived in Wenatchee, fruit capital of the universe, as a storm built up over the Cascade Mountains. There i found a room for the night. It was still hot and becoming more humid as night fell. I had to cancel my evening walk past the taco trucks, cheap motels and warehouses, along a sad looking commercial strip. Clouds of mosquitos chased me back to the Travelodge. During the night i missed the orchestral highlights of the passing storm, on account of the whisper of the air conditioning and the black out curtains, in my standard issue motel room. Seattle and home was next.
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