Road trip, Part 2 - July 7 to July 18

Christina Lake in morning light from Gail and Mike's summer cabin.

Gail and Mike at Christina Lake.

Returning back to cabin ahead of a storm, 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.

Route 2 near Coulee City, Eastern Washington State. U.S.A.

Cherry orchard outside Wenatchee, 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.

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.

Road trip, Part 1 - July 7 to July 18

At the Marigold Resort, Loon Lake, Cariboo Country, B.C.

Standing: Lynne, Janice, Marie, Grace, Lizett, Sebastian, myself

Sitting: Porfirio

At the Marigold Resort, Loon Lake, Cariboo Country, B.C.

Lynne, Janice, Grace and Marie

Loon Lake, Cariboo Country, B.C.

View from the deck at the Marigold Resort cabin, Loon Lake, Cariboo Country, B.C.

Myself and Richard with his 1981 Corvette, Salmon Arm, B.C.

Evening light over a cornfield, near Armstrong, B.C.

Lunch with Les at Tonics, Kelowna, B.C.

Nola in her garden in Rutland, near Kelowna, B.C.

LEFT VANCOUVER on a warm Saturday, driving north through Squamish and Pemberton. The Toyota was loaded down with camping equipment, groceries, art supplies and more. The dramatic drive to Lillooet was over the Duffey Lake Road. Around the halfway point, and high up in the mountains, a motorcyclist was lying near his overturned bike. The grim scene, next to a low retaining wall was in front of a steep drop off. A long skid mark, ahead of a tight corner, suggested too much speed. Several motorists were gathered around him, while medical help was coming. Before long route four emergency vehicles passed, me coming the other way, before the road plunged down into the Seton Valley and dry belt country. In the late afternoon, temperatures soared past 35ºC down in the valley bottom. Luckily there were still available spots at the BC Hydro campsite when i drove in. My shady camping spot, on smooth gravel, had been raked and and at the pack of the site was a clean picnic table. Good well water and washrooms were close at hand too. Finally, my camping was even free of charge. Setting up my large tent, for the first time ever alone, went very smoothly. Was able to cook up hot water later, to wash with before bed, on the tiny backpacking stove. This is the one luxury i prefer to hold onto, even when i am "roughing it."

Woke up on several stacked yoga mats after a decent sleep. Breakfast at the Reynolds Hotel in Lillooet, included amazing pan-fried potatoes, but was also your typical caloric onslaught. The cafe atmosphere was friendly to the extreme with the coffee cup being constantly topped-up. Waddled out to the car and continued across the Fraser River before turning north towards the Cariboo Country. My destination was Loon Lake, only a three hour drive away. As i was meeting friends there i thought i would time my arrival for after lunch. Reached the Marigold Resort before the other eight arrived. The location was quite lovely, beside a long lake and and nestled amongst two rows of low mountains. As a group we were to be spread out over two trailers and two cabins. Fortunately i was sharing the biggest cabin, equipped with two bedrooms which i shared with Grace and Porfirio. Soon the others arrived via the Trans Canada Highway and the Fraser Canyon. From Sunday to Wednesday, the string of days were marked by communal meals and conviviality. There was lots of time to read, or paint in my case, a good mix of socializing and quiet time. In the evenings, while the loon calls echoed across the quiet waters, and fish with fish jumping here and there, we came together around the campfire. 

Duffey Lake Rd - Google Maps

Marigold Resort - Loon Lake BC - Spectacular and Affordable BC Vacation Resort -                Fish, Relax and Play at The Marigold Resort, Loon Lake, BC

In the middle of the week, i drove on to Salmon Arm where i met a former neighbour named Richard. Over a year ago, he had originally located me, via Facebook. We had not seen each other since 1960, which was when i was ten and he a very much older teenager. Back then Richard lived across the street from our house, in Oak Bay (Victoria, B.C.), In his process of searching out new stories, i was contacted too, for impressions from our street. His project covered a span of time from the War years to the 1960s. Richard's website about Wilmot Place, included stories of some of the same families i knew too, on our Cul-de-sac. Needless to say, we had many childhood memories that we could share. My Salmon Arm host arranged to meet me at the local Tim Hortons, so being without a cell phone i called him from the restaurant, upon my arrival. A very fit senior soon made his appearance in the parking lot, in a red 1981 Corvette, no longer the teenager i knew from 52 years ago. On Richard's suggestion, we roared off into town, where he rightly felt the coffee would be better.  For 2 1/2 hours we exchanged recollections of Wilmot Place. Soon it was time to be taken back to my car and shown the way to Highway 97 and out of town. Spent the evening at a wonderful bed and breakfast near Armstrong.

Richard's research on Wilmot Place, my street from the childhood years:
STREET RECOLLECTIONS

Schubert Estate Bed & Breakfast - B&B Reviews, Deals - Armstrong, Canada - TripAdvisor.

My journey continued to Kelowna where i visited two friends. Saw Les first and we talked over lunch. I first met Les in 1969 when he was a UBC student in his final year of Education and i, a student at Vancouver Schood of Art and studying Graphic Design. It was good to catch up with him as i don't see Les very often. Later i met up with Nola. Despite the heat we went for a good walk in Rutland before sitting down to a nice supper at a Greek restaurant. When we got home, the two of us sat outside on her big covered deck and shared a bottle of red wine from the 1990s. While we laughed and exchanged stories a storm swept over the hills to south, bringing with the growl of thunder and occasional pyrotechnics of lightening playing along the ridge line. It was here that i spent the night, in the comfortable guest suite, in Nola's basement.

too be continued...