day 46, as it just happened
a few minutes ago, i saw this really bright flash outside. Seconds later, the thunder was the loudest i ever heard, and felt since the sonic shock waves went through everything in the yurt, including me. erde, who fears nothing, ran over to me. leben looked puzzled. some aftershocks are still happening. (there goes another, five seconds after the flash. How fast does sound travel again? ). the rain is coming down hard and fast now. More than a downpour, less than a deluge. again, i have to congratulate myself for a wise decision to yurt it today, if yurt can also be used as a verb. would someone google tsunami for me to see if loud thunder can cause a tsunami? thank you.
day 46, Sunday, 9/29, WYA Oceanside Camp, near Ucleulet, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, 9800+ miles
Those who know me know that i am an honest person, or at least believe me when i say i am. so it is with heavy heart (and cold, but not wet, everything else) that I admit that today i am cheating, or at least it feels like it. let me explain.
after my chance meeting with Nicolas and Kyra yesterday, to save time down the road, i asked Nicholas if he could recommend any interesting campsites near the ocean. He suggested a few, but then also suggested staying in the yurt camp they had just come from. i thought that this latter suggestion was timely, not because of the weather, but because just the night before i had thought for the first time about upgrading to a yurt. (the day before i had thought about downgrading to a bike.) it was still two hours away at the end of a long, very winding, narrow mountain road, but we could make it before dark, so off we went.
indeed, that road (highway 4) was winding, narrow and long, and you might throw in scary-at-times to boot, but we made it, perhaps invigorated by the vente cup of really-bold coffee supplied by the Port Alberni Starbucks before we left. but before we got to the little community of 15 yurts overlooking this magnificent ocean scene, we had to navigate a very scary 2km one-lane road that was made worse by the kyackers coming the opposite direction in their beat-up cars at speeds, even around blind terms, that could only be called dumb.
so, here we are for two days, in a yurt, overlooking the Pacific, storing up energy for the return trip home, and staying dry from the at-times miserable weather taking place outside. although the truth is that we deal with whatever weather we are dealt with equanimity, plus some good, healthy cursing if the weather is bad, it is a welcome relief not to have to deal with that every now and then, like now. the rain is pelting the canvass roof of the tent relentlessly; the surf, less than 200 feet from my right ear, is pounding the rocks on the shore; the little propane-fueled fireplace that comes with the yurt throws off more ambience than heat or light; all three create a peaceful orchestral combination that I am sure someone would pay dear money for on Ebay. to assuage my guilt feelings, i do not use the battery-operated light in the yurt, and i do most of my chores outside or smoking my pipe in the back of the Defender, mainly to adhere to the no-smoking proscription in the yurt. (I was given permission to ignore the No Pets sign on the door.)
Tomorrow, we will explore the area a little, retake that winding highway, and head toward Victoria. depending upon our plans, we may stay overnight along the way in the small unheated spare cabin of the nice couple I met at Cape Scott with their dog Luke. Another night of relief never hurt anyone, I say. eventually we will find our way home.
some photos
- dogs resting by the fireplace inside the yurt
- dogs resting on the Pacific Ocean
- dogs resting outside the yurt
-Defender resting outside the yurt
e
Day 45, September 28, Miracle Beach to Cathedral Grove, Vancouver Island
A remarkable coincidence after Miracle Beach in a cathedral of trees.
Ed, from the road
Each of my road trips had its' own high point, one particular incident I could point to and say, that was what made the trip worthwhile. in 2000, with Sonntag, it was the metaphor that Prudhoe Bay stood for, reaching the end of the line. With Leben and Erde: in 2001, it was the changing of the guard (dogs) on the tundra just north of Atigun Pass; in 2002, reaching the end of the road in Labrador; in 2011, our discovery of Lake Bukemiga; and in 2012, our hike to Beech Mountian, my old Boy Scout Camp in NY, just days before Leben became paralyzed. what happened today will surely be remembered as the high point of this year's trip, during a journey that had so much more competing for that coveted prize.
My plan was to stay in Port Hardy on the northern tip of Vancouver Island after an arduous four-day ferry voyage for only one day and then move on to Victoria on the southern tip for one day before crossing over into the states and then head home. One of the good things about homeward-bound legs of journeys when there are no schedules to keep is that you can change plans. So, Port Hardy was such a nice place to rest up for the return trip, each morning for the next four days I added an extra day to my stay there, and was amply rewarded for doing so thanks to the wonderful people I met, the quaint town, the idyllic camp site and, of course, the muffins, especially the pumpkin ones, at the Market Street Cafe.
On the fifth day, fter reading a severe weather warning that covered Vancouver Island sent to me by from my Karen, i decided that it was time to move south, so I packed up and moved on, mostly through rain and wind. We were more than ready to call it a day by 6:00 p.m., but because it was still raining, i pushed on until the rain stopped at 7:00 and we battoned down our tent for the night at Miracle Beach Provincial Park, a pleasant camp on the ocean. The next morning, no sooner did i respond to the sound of Reveille streaming from my iPad when that severe weather met me at my tent's front door. Decision time again. With a promise to feed the dogs and myself later, we packed up and move on.
Twenty miles down, the road I stopped at a general store for some coffee and treats for the dogs, a sorry excuse for their usual breakfast, and for an update on the weather, which indeed confirmed the earlier warning. So, for the next hour, I sat in the Defender drinking my coffee, treating the dogs, blogging, smoking my pipe, thinking about my options and procrastinating, for want of any better word. At noon, the spirit moved me, and we moved on through the rain, and i mean heavy rain, and heavy winds, too. Some miles down the road, at the intersection of highway 19 and highway 4, the winding, scenic road to the west coast, I pulled into a cut-off to think some more. Should I or shouldn't I take a two-day side-trip to the west-side ocean? Removing the noise of the foul weather from my thinking since it no longer made any difference to me, the decision came quickly an easily, to head west, so I jammed the Defender into first gear, gave the dogs a treat, and slogged on.
Several times along the road west I came to one scenic rest stop or another, but disqualified all of them as suitable for a wheel-chair bound dog and his sister. At 3:00 p.m., though, the Defender drove us through us what appeared to be a cathedral of stately, tall trees, appropriately named Cathedral Grove. Acting very quickly because backing up on that highway is not an option, i diverted the Defender and awkwardly steered jt into one of the few remainjng road-side parking spaces, and then sat in it debating whether the walk outside in the rain would really be worth it. It would be, i convinced myself, and so I got out, donned my foul weather gear, and started the numerous steps i have to go through to unload the dogs for a simple walk. Believe me, taking a paralyzed dog for a walk is not the same thing as taking a fully ambulatory dog for a walk.
The perceptive among my readers, which includes all of you, are probably calculating the probability of my being in that exact spot at that exact minute, and i do mean minute, starting from our arrival at Port Hardy days earlier. It is low, very low. We are talkng about .00X, where X is some number between 1 and 9.
As soon as i started to remove Leben's wheel-chair from the ladder to my roof rack, and then lift Leben from the rear, I could not believe my eyes. it was like I was living in a parallel universe. Directly on the other side of the narrow, but busy, highway, a young man had just removed a pink canine wheel-chair from his vehilce and was then starting to gently lift his German shepherd from the rear. Since i first put Sonntag in his wheel-chair in 1998, and after having driven almost 50,000 miles across all of Canada and through most of the states, I have never seen another dog in a wheel-chair. (More on this at a future time.). dodging the traffic coming in both directions on the highway, i hurried to the other side, approached the man, and because I was almost speechless, pointed to my Defender, hoping he'd recognize Leben's still-secured wheel-chair. He did.
There are many personal institutional bonds that I have formed over the years, from my many schools, work places, the Navy, places I have lived, and so forth. But i never had the chance to discover the bond between myself and another guardian of a wheel-chair bound dog because i never met one, until today. Let me tell you something, that bond trumps by a long shot any of those other bonds, and the next 30 minutes proved that. During those 30 minutes, i learned that the young man, Nicholas, had been caring for his absolutely beautiful 14-year old female German shepnerd named Kyra as a paralyzed dog for the last 14 months. It was a bizarre experience for me to hear someone talking about the chores, as well as reasons and rewards, of caring for a large paralyzed dog in precisely the same terms i have used for 15 years. It was a beautiful, unreal experience that will surely trump all other highlights of this trip, maybe all six.
Over the years i walked Sonntag, and now Leben, on the streets, throusnads of people said, shouted or gestured so many wondferl words of thanks, praise, admiration, or whatever to me, including that it was an honor to meet me. Some even broke down in tears. The reason they did this was that they knew, or could imagine, how difficukt a chore it must be to manage a large paralyzed dog, especially given that it is so easy to blamelessly reason one's way to a conclsuion that it is time to let the dog go, as i had to myself on April 10, 2001, when i let 14-hear old Sonntag go, a scene that was captured for generatikns to come in January 2002 and May 2011 special issue of The National Geographic. I finally had the chance to say some of those very same things that were said to me to Nicholas, including what an honor it was to meet him, said while I was choking up. How wonderful i feel to have had that opportunity, and the opportunity to meet this gorgeous, gentle dog named Kyra.
I will defer to Nicholas in whatever forum he choses to talk about Kyra and her condition, a condition that he knows will bring Kyra's long life to an end, probably soon. But whatever words he writes, Nicolas's caring for his magnificent ward, and my running into them by sheer coincidence, gave me to the chance to understand what Tommy Norris of Augusta, Georgia, said two weeks ago to those around us during a rest break on the Denali Park Road, "This is better than Denali." Thank you, Nicholas, for giving me that chance, and for doing what you have done for Kyra. And thank you, Kyra, for showing us humans that your life has as much meaning to you as our lives have to us.
i will post one photo of Leben and Kyra here The other photos i took I will post in an annex, which you will be able to access by clicking here. Nicholas has not given me permission to add his email address here, but ignore that and please send him an email at heartfyre@hotmail.com thanking him for what he has done for Kyra for 14 months and what may turn out to be her last. Believe me, I know what hard but rewarding work it is.
Ed, from the road
Day 45, Saturday, September 28, parking lot of a general store on highway 19, Vancouver island
it was a quiet, rainless night last night, although the threat of rain emptied out the camp, except for us. but as soon as i got up, the rain started. we packed up in almost record time and are now sitting in a parking lot of a general store on the highway thinking. i checked the weather for Victoria, Seattle and Portland, our next three stops, and all three looked like this photo from Google. After five and a half road trips with virtually no rain, i am now making up for that. at least now i am becoming an expert in road-rain-camping. but things could be worse. at least i have the Defender to seek refuge in. my fellow road travelers from just up the road in Port Hardy, Gigi, Adrian and Frankie, traveling on their bikes, don't have that luxury as they head south to California. please sign onto their web page at www.ofpedalsandpaws.com and wish them well during this rainy period.
Ed, from the road
907-888-8693 cell
day 44, Friday, September 27, Quatse River Camp to Miracle Beach Provincial Park in central Vancouver Island, 9615 miles
i cannot believe that the iPad again deleted a post i spent over an hour on. when i finished it, i send it by email to my blog and the closed the email app to save battery. because there was no internet connection available, the iPad dropped it. it didn't bother saving it in draft or my outbox. time to look for another option to the ipad. i have no time to reconstruct it now, but will later. in the meantime, here are some photos that tell the day's story.
1- Gigi, Adrian and 15-year old Frankie at Quatse River camp. read my earlier post about their unprecedented journey or check out their cool blog at www.ofpedalsandpaws.com. and here i thought i was on an adventure. you will be amazed.
2- The Market Street Cafe in Port Hardy. best muffins and flax bread this side of Labrador. I stopped in one last time on my way out of town
3- Stopped in Telegraph Cove, where the whale watching business started, but nothing interesting for Leben and Erde and it was raining so we moved on. before moving on, though, i did get a cup of coffee at the coffee cafe there. that coffee put Starbuck's coffee to shame.
4- this island is a logging region. even the trains have the right of way, but you would give it to them even if they did not.
5- the ride from the north to central region is like a drive though a lush, verdant tunnel. 150 miles with really nothing on the road. when it stopped raining, we took a walk in thus lush garden. Saturday i will see what the south island is all about.
6- we drove until 7:15 when it stopped raining and then set up camp in record time at Miracle Beach Provincial Park on the Pacific. we were in the tent by 9:00 after our usual evening meal, then it started to rain again. Lucky us. but I was prepared. no bears in this camp. first time in almost four weeks. i finally learned how to set up camp in the rain.....set up the tarp first.
The weather is expected to be just foul Saturday, rain, wind, etc. I will decide farther on down the road where we spend Saturday night, the west coast of the island or at Victoria, nearby the ferry that will take us to the US.
Ed, from somewhere on the road
907-888-8693 cell
day. 44, 3:00 pm, As It Is Happening, Telegraph Cove, VI, BC
ed
day 44, noon, Friday, September 27, Leaving Quatse River Camp and Port Hardy
as much as i hate to do it, we are moving on south to one of the Provincial Parks in central VI. it rained all last night, hard at times, but stopped just in time for daybreak. lucky me. if i graded campsites, this one surely would merit the highest grade of all that we stayed in from Labrador to Inuvik and Dawson City, and then onto the Arctic in Alaska. that's what makes it so hard to leave. but Leben and Erde have exhausted all the new and interesting smells here, so it's time to move on.
everyone tells us we must stop at Telegraph Cove, the birthplace of the whale watching business, so we will. how long we stay there will determine where we camp for the night. i will be prepared for the foul weather they say is coming.
these trips are a balancing act. with the three of us coming to the scene with different interests, abilities and conditions, i am constantly juggling what we do, or do not do, with the three of us in mind, more so my companions than myself. Fortunately, i generally do not have to worry about the Defender because it seems to be up for anything we might want to do, including getting home.
ed
everyone tells us we must stop at Telegraph Cove, the birthplace of the whale watching business, so we will. how long we stay there will determine where we camp for the night. i will be prepared for the foul weather they say is coming.
these trips are a balancing act. with the three of us coming to the scene with different interests, abilities and conditions, i am constantly juggling what we do, or do not do, with the three of us in mind, more so my companions than myself. Fortunately, i generally do not have to worry about the Defender because it seems to be up for anything we might want to do, including getting home.
ed
day 43, 10:00 p.m. Quatse time
i am in my tent surrounded by these tall, stately, old cedar trees and no humans. my dogs are sleeping near me, Leben covered with his red blanket, Erde occasionally running in her sleep chasing imagined animals and only she and God know what else. it is cold outside, but warmer in the tent, and raining, more than a drizzle, less than a downpour. the canopy offers no relief from the rain, which has mercylessly extinguished the fire i labored so hard to build. I am reading Sylvain Tesson's Consolations of the Forest about the six winter months he spent in a cabin, alone, in Siberia on Lake Baikal, and i envy him. I am sipping some 2012 Pinot Noir left over from yesterday. Wagner's Gotterdammerung is playing from my iPad. tomorrow's weather, or my plans, are of no interest to me now. What more could a man ask for?
day 43, 8:14pm Camp Quatse time
Nice. Really nice. i was thinking the adventure ended at Denali 10 days ago, but in fact it only started then.
another friend hoped that i would have laughter on this trip. with weather like this, i will hold back the laughing until i am back home. one does not laugh at mother nature i learned at boy scout camp.
of course, as always, things could be worse. At least i have my Defender to retreat to. think about my fellow campers Gigi, Adrian and Frankie. By the way, i spent quality time thinking after i got
Karen's message about an arrangement the next time i am forced to sleep in the Defender. what i came up with is this. i will put my map container on the driver's sear floor, remove the sear bottom, and make a bed for Erde there. she often lies there when i am out of the vehicle. i will then take over the back of the vehicle. It will not be cozy, but it will be a heck of a lot better than sleeping in the driver's seat.
days 40-43, Monday-Thursday, September 23-26, Camp Quatse River at Port Hardy, north Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, plus Cape Scott (the end of the road)
This is the posting that belongs with the photos, below. Let me try this post again and try to avoid the pothole the iPad pulled me into last night. I am using my add-on Logitech keyboard which allows me to type with four fingers instead of the one finger the iPad's screen keyboard allows, and with fewer mistakes, mostly corrected grotesquely by the iPad's auto-spellcheck. I am also writing this on the campsite picnic table which seems to have been made for those husky lumberjacks (logging is big here) in that the distance between the bench and the table top at a DC restaurant would not pass safety inspection as it is vast. I solved that problem by ripping out the seat of my driver's seat and I am sitting on that, hoping that I do not lean back to think. But since there has not been anytime of this trip to think, there is no danger of that. The risk I should worry about is from the bears on the nearby river fishing for salmon, fearing that they will learn that the dogs' meals are made partly from canned salmon.
As i wrote earlier, we arrived at this wonderful river park on Sunday night in the pouring rain, so Monday was spent drying out the little that got wet, setting up the rest of the camp, going into town to run a few errands, and looking for a garage to service and repair the Defender. The garage could not take us till Wednesday, which was fine by me. I also bought another tarp pole to improve my pathetic skill of setting up a tarp, and I can now be endorssed on Linkedin for "tarp setup skills." I also bought a rubber floor mat to improve my "getting a paralyzed big dog into a small tent" skills, another skill i wish someone would endorse me for on Linkedin.
Tuesday morning turned out to be an absolutely magnificent day , most of the time anyway. This was the day, I decided, that we would make our assault on the end of the road in this corner of Canada, Cape Scott, an easy 45-mile drive from Port Hardy. I was warned that dogs were not permitted in the park because of the presence of dog-attaching wolves, but since my goal was only to drive to the end of the road, shoot a photo or two as proof that we made it, and then head back, I shrugged off the warning.
After the terrible Denali Highway road experience of one week earlier, I swore that I was finished with dirt and gravel roads for the remainder of this trip. How easy vows are broken when one has a goal to meet. Three miles of wobbly paved road quickly morphed into dirt and gravel, or should I say, dirt, gravel and potholes, mostly the latter. This road ties the Denali Highway and the road to Labrador City from Quebec as the worst on the continent. Vladivostok's roads in Russia qualify for the worst ever. There the potholes are five feet wide, five feet long and five feet deep. The road is made for the huge logging trucks which are not bothered by the potholes and have the right of way. Once a timed the distance between logging trucks, three-four miles, every four miles I would park the Defender in a cutoff and wait for the next one to go by. The best way to describe the very narrow road would be by comparing it to an industrial strength ribbed washboard. My guess is that those knot holes you see in the nice cedar-paneling in your den were made by the shock treatment the felled cedar trees get during this 45-mile ride.
We made it to Cape Scott just as the magnificent weather appeared, after having gone through at least eight weather systems en route. My question about dogs was answered immediately when a say a couple, Les and Sue, sitting in the pavilion after a hike along the trail having lunch with their dog Luke, who was very much alive. Les took the photo of my family in front of the old cedar tree, which marks the end of the road. After an hour there, I decided it was time to head back to camp, and so we packed up and left.
The ride back to camp was supposed to be predictable since I was taking the same road back. But a new hazard appeared on this near empty highway at 5:00 p.m. Going out, the Ys in the road, of which there were many considering that this is logging country, always had a Cape Scott direction nearby. But there were none on the way back. No big deal, I could always look behind me. But new Ys appeared that were not evident on the way out. When in doubt, mu rule is to take the more-heavily traveled road, but twice that rule failed me. No big deal, I just sat in my vehicle waiting for the next vehicle to arrive and got put onto the right road.
On the way back I stopped at three different remote campsites along the road, San Josef, San Josef Heritage Camp, and Nawitti Lake. These sites were not only remote but primitive, and gave even me pause to ever camp there unless I was surrounded by other humans on all sides so the wildlife would get them first.
We made it back to camp by 6:30, but before we did, half mile from camp, I spotted to juvenile black bears scampering up a slope beside the road (see photo.) When I got to camp, some young man I met proudly boasted that he had just scared away a mother bear and her two cubs from the river near the camp. I could only wonder how insensitive someone could be in that this is the bears' home and they were fishing for salmon to store up fat for winter, and they did not have the option of walking into the local supermarket for their food.
Later that evening, a pleasant woman named Gigi wandered into my campsite looking to borrow a hatchet to chop up some of the wood to build a fire. She obviously was not an RVer since most RVs I've seen on my trip are large enough to be mobile Home Depot franchises. Well as it turns out, she and her companion Adrian are biking with their beautiful 15-year old rescue greyhound Frankie. But not only biking, biking from California (3000 miles already since March) with Frankie , a 50-pound fellow, riding in his cart being pulled by the bikes. Unlike Leben and Erde, who sleep the whole drive, Frankie rides on his own volition standing up, taking in the scenery. You can see their blog at www.ofpedalsandpaws.com.
Wednesday morning was another easy day with little to do except rest up for the return trip (I have regained my original energy after those terrible five days on the Alcan and ferries), service Leben's own Defender, and take my Defender into OK Tires for servicing. Steve, the mechanic, was quick to note that the oil in my rear differential was milky when it was supposed to be amber in color. This was a sign that it had taken on water somewhere, probably through the leaky seal I know I have during the Cape Scott drive when I had to cross puddles that resembled stifled rivers Had I driven far on this, I would have destroyed the bearings at some point on the way home. Steve drained and then refilled the differential, and we were all set to go after he told me the good news that my transfer case oil level was fine, meaning I should be able to avoid a repeat of the Dawson City crisis on the way home.
That night at camp, I succeeded in making a huge fire with the ample supply of wet firewood available in the camp. How nice it is to light a fire for warmth, light, protection and cooking instead of for ambience as we do at home. One does not need ambience camping where I am and have been these last 43 days when you are not only living in it but part of it. Meeting the people I have met along the way (with one exception in Fairbanks) is oneof the joys of these trips.
Today, Thursday, was another day of regaining my strength with little else on my schedukle. Initially, I hadplanned to stay for o kore than four days, ut I added an extra day because it is so pleasant here. Pleasant, convenient, relaxing, etc. The complete list of positive adjectives that fit this quaint town and camp would require more battery and cellular megs than I have left.
(As I sit outside writing tis, Its is raining now, but not a drop is falling on us thanks to the canopy of trees protecting us. How nice. The onky thing destroying the peace other than the rain is the sound hunters' guns going off not too far away. Avoid hunting, I say, by going vegan. Hunters, of course, are honest enough to know what it is like to take an animal, and I give them credit for that. But not sport hunters, for whom God has reserved a special place in hell.)
Around noon, I paid my daily visit to the Market Street Cafe to see what they had left from the morning's bakings, which was little. This unpretentious place is noted for its baked, and if you ever visit there you will understand why. I complained to the owner-baker Dan that the flax seed bread does not last long with my family. When I arrived today, there were three pumpkin muffins left, which happened to be my favorite. Fearing that the lovely young woman, Marnie, in front of me was there to by them, she told me she only wanted one, which made my day. (I bought the two remaining.) She and I started chatting and the subject eventually turned to Sonntag's story in the National Geographic. I have never met anyone so delighted about the appearance of that story as Marnie was, more delighted than I was. I invited her to my welcome home party, as all readers of my bog are, of course. (Be forewarned: The menu will be the same stuff I and the dogs eat on the road.)
Before I left the cafe, I asked the affable Simone, who works there, about the barber shop across the street. She then said, "Why don't you ask him," pointing to the man for whom she was holding the door open, the town's barber. An hour later, I was getting my hair cut for the first time on this trip y ther equally affable and very inexpensive Chris Hunter. This is how convenient this town is.
After a walk in the towns's lovely park overlooking the ocean, I visited the nearby information center, where Kari the hostess was helpful in planning my remaining Vancouver Island stay. I then picked up a clipboard at the nearby hardware store to replace the clipboard that I had fashioned into a vehicle iPad holder, which Erde today stepped on and it broke. I then searched in vain at the nearby supermarket for more pipe tobacco as I have only one ore day's supply, which is one of the reasons this trip must end soon.
Tomorrow, we head south. Where to, I do not know yet, but south. Staying in this town and camp without any schedule to keep made the stay very pleasant, especially having an opportunity to meet so many nice locals and fellow travelers with the same mindset as mine.
Ed, from somewhere on the road
907-888-8693 cell
Day 43, thursday, September 26, In the tent at Camp Quatse, Port Hardy, Vancouver
>
> i wake up several times during the night after hearing Leben struggling, to shift him to a new position or pull his legs into a more comfortable position since he cannot move them himself. this involves my climbing out of my toasty-warm sleeping bag into the much colder tent, but i always do it. To motivate me for this or other equally difficult chores in managing him, i always put myself in his shoes, i mean paws, and spring into action. i also am motivated by the poster picture for Father Flanigan's Boystown of the 12-year old boy carrying a younger boy on his back saying, "He ain't heavy, Father, he's my brother." "He ain't heavy, folks. He's my dog."
>
days 40-43, , September 23-26, Port Hardy, Cape Scott. photos (see post two above for narrative for this post.)
photos from top to bottom
1-sign on the Cape Scotf road.
2- the three of us at the end of the road at cape scott
3- a side road off the road to Cape Scoff
4- a remote camp site off the road ... Nawitti Lake
5- the two bears near my camp
6- Leben's own Defender all shined up
7- Erde in camp contemplating whether she should waste her time and energy going after that huge bluebird.
day 40, Monday, September 23, Quatse River Temperatel Rain Forest Camp, Port Hardy, Vancouver Island North, British Columbia, Canada
within one hour, a record tie, the tent was set up, dried out, and even Erde was dry. i even set up my new VE25 tent without a single glitch, the first time since the trip started. within one hour after arriving, the three of us were sound asleep, lulled into that deep sleep by the pitter patter of the rain on the tent.
i took my time getting things ready this morning because for only the second day on this journey I had nothing on my calendar except find a garage to replace my headlight and check the oil levels. we drove into town and found a garage, but they cannot take me until Wednesday, so we are stranded in this lovely place for three more days. no big deal, as i can perhaps make some progress beyond page 11 of the first of the dozen or so books i lugged along.
the weather here is rather interesting. i can look up through the canopy of trees one minute and see blue sky, but by the time i move my head downward, it is raining. no big deal now that i set up my own tarp canopy, one side of which i string off the Defender. and if i want the weather to change for the better, i wait five minutes and then look up.
tomorrow, i hope to set off for Cape Scott, the northwestern-most point of the island. i was hoping to camp there, but dogs are not allowed there now because of the wolves. then, on Thursday, or maybe Friday, we will set off south on the only highway here for Victoria, where we will catch another ferry to Port Angelis on the Olympic Peninsula. From there to plan is to circumnavigate the peninsula counterclockwise, head towards Portland, and then figure out the warmest route to get back home at some point.
the photo is of our campsite here, surrounded by these wonderful big old trees, reminiscent of the Sequoia forest we camped in September 5, 2001, on the California coast on our back from Prudhoe Bay. how sad that we are stranded here for three more days, i mean, only three more days. Erde is visible in the photo in the foreground. who can see Leben?
speaking of stranded somewhere, at midnight two days ago, as i was parked in line waiting for the ferry to here from Prince Rupert, the Defender did not start right away. concerned that it would not start when it was time to board the once-a-week ferry hours later, i reviewed my contingency plan. that plan included buying a new Jeep and shipping the Defender back home, where it would retired. fortunately, the Defender came through, and there will be no auction block for it, not now anyway.
i lost count of the miles so far for part 2 of this journey. probably close to 9,200, including the 1000-mile ferry trips. Fortunately, we only have about 3,500 more to go.
day 39, Sunday, September 22, on the BC ferry to Port Hardy, Vancouver Island
what a contrast this ferry has been compared to the Alaskan ferry. this is like i imagine a cruise ship to be, without the casino. even the dogs are treated better with more space, more deck calls for me to visit them, and no one complains when i stay beyond 15 minutes with them. and they didn't try to abandon the Defender this trip. and the serving hostess in the cafe gave me the leftover salmon from the dinner menu for them.
Most of my time on the ferry was spent getting one hour naps considering i got one hour last night, four the night before, little on the other ferry, and maybe two the night before at that ALCAN rest area.
saw lots of whales along this route. it's quite a voyage through the Inside Passage. fortunately, i saw it in better weather three times before.
our main goal on Vancouver Island, beyond seeing why everyone raves about it so much, is to rest up and plan the trip home. i was earlier planning to take a few side trips along the way home but it seems that Leben's skin infection is returning and i need to get him home quickly or into a warmer climate where i can bathe him. i cannot believe that i have spent thousands trying to control that with no results. but the two of us have learned how to deal with it.
as for erde, her tumor has grown back to where it was when it was removed in August, so i know what i have to do when we get home. knowing what she is going to have to go through, i gave her a few more liberties on this trip. and she took full advantage of every one of them, and more
day 38, Saturday, September 21, at the gates of the BC ferry at Prince Rupert, BC
the first one was when i was 10 and camping at a boy scout jamboree in Goshen, NY. camped out in canvass tents, we got hit with hurricane-force rains. the water was coming into the tent as fast it was raining, maybe faster. my hand-me-down WWI cloth sleeping bag was worthy of a merit bag for excellence in public service in that it sopped up all the water in the tent from the other scouts. i forget how that incident ended probably because my brain cells that create long term memories got waterlogged.
the second experience was during my three-week expedition deep into the Kamchatkan wilderness with my Russian guide, Sasha Lebed. just as we reached the magnificent Mutnovsky volcano, we got hit with a violent windstorm that was soon accompanied by freezing rain. we wisely decided not to cross the narrow pass into the volcano, mainly because one side of the path overlooked a very steep cliff. it was getting too late to make it back to our previous camp, located in sort of a safe harbor zone. through my binoculars we spotted an abandoned workers' camp miles down the valley from the volcano, and so we made our way to it, eventually reaching it hours later. as good luck would have it, the doors to one of the several dilapidated sheds was open, and so we invited ourselves in. if it not been open, i am sure one or both of us would have kicked the door in without bothering our consciences. as dilapidated as the interior was, due to the weather outside, that place was like Four Seasons for us for the next two days until the storm abated and we got on our way, emboldened to take on anything, including the grizzly that charged us three days later.
the third experience was on my and Sonntag's return trip home from alaska in 2000. i was thrilled that i had just finished setting up the tent in an open area besides some trees on the. highest spot at Birds Hill Park near Winnipeg when the rains started. but soon after, the rains intensified, and then, first the thunder and then the lightning. before long, there was no gap between the thunder and lightning as the storm centered itself directly over us for almost an hour. i could tell when the lightning was coming, seconds, not minutes apart, because the tent poles crackled from the charge. every time i thought the storm was passing, it came back again. huddled with Sonntag to reduce our footprint for the lightning, i wrote feverishly in my journal. i haven't looked at that journal yet, but when i do, i will probably discover it contains a long list of names of others i wished that was happening to and not us.
in all honesty, it would have taken a lot more for today to scale the heights of those three prior experiences, but it was pretty bad. fortunately, i have those three, any other, experiences so that i can say, it could have been worse.
our day started at 2:30 a.m. when the ferry docked here in Prince Rupert in light rain and wind. After we got through Customs, i set off for an RV camp just down the road from the, which was to be our home or the next 30 hours. it took an hour just to set up the tent in those conditions, but after i did, and then dried it out, i was all set for a cozy night's sleep. but then i detected that one of my dogs might have just had an accident, until i realized he or she did an hour before and i had been stepping in it the whole time. no big deal. these things happen. just clean things up and move on, even though it is almost 4:00 a.m. on a cold, rainy morning and you're sleeping in a tent 5000 miles from your warm bed, amidst a half dozen RVs running their generators solely to piss you off. it didn't help that i chose a site that turned out to be ground zero for the water runoff from the nearby RVs or that it had more hidden or attractive nuisances than Poplar Grove.
the truth is, i got a good night's sleep for four hours, thanks to St. Ambien and the patter of rain on the tent, and then, after what looked like a nice day, but didn't turn out that way, in the rain, set off for downtown Prince Rupert to do the usual errands, e.g, wash the Defender, do the laundry (mainly to dry things out), replenish supplies, buy treats (read, bribes) for the dogs, etc. the rain broke for a bit and we took a walk in a lovely park in the center of town.
i searched the entire town looking for an open garage to install my headlight, but found that all two of them were closed on the weekend. at least the town has some, and gas stations, too. Skagway had none.
when i got back to my tent at the camp in a light rain at 5:00, i looked up at sky. Plan A had been all along that i would retire at 8:00, get up at 4:00, and after breaking camp, head to the ferry terminal for the 7:30 a.m. ferry 522 km south to Vancouver island. Plan B, if the weather looked liked it might be more miserable in the morning, was to get the hell outta the camp now, so that is what i did.
getting the hell outta camp as fast as one can even in the best of weather is not as easy as it sounds. but try it when it's raining and you have another situation altogether, especially if you want to keep things dry, which is a reasonable wish. Add to that two big dogs and you have added a new dimension. Throw in a paralyzed dog and you are talking about rocket science. and remember, if you read my prior postings carefully, i have been blessed with little experience in breaking camp in the rain. doing Rubric's cube for the first time would be easier. you have to plan each move of scores if items very carefully, and some distant bystander who has nothing better to do with his or her time might think you are going around in circles. fortunately you have a very concrete measure, that is, how dry your stuff is at the end, except the tent, if course, and you really don't care about that. i am happy to report that i broke camp without getting a single thing wet, including the dogs, especially Leben. but as a reward for something i must have done in a prior life, even Erde stayed dry, despite her proclivity for escaping from the Defender at every opportunity.
so, here we sit at the gate of the ferry (see photo) at midnight with seven hours to go. the rain has let up, but not the wind. it promises to be a miserable night, especially with a temperamental heater, but as i reflect on those prior experiences, i am thankful that it is not worse.
Google Weather (see photo) reports that i should not expect much improvement in the weather on Vancouver Island until Wednesday. that's fine with me. when we arrive at 10:30 p.m. Sunday, i'll set up camp at a pleasant nearby regional park and stay in my tent reading, writing, treating he dogs, and sleeping until the weather improves. that's the positive side of these return trips with no schedule to meet. but i may be too optimistic since I'll be exchanging rain for wolves, if the reports i have been reading are correct.
Day 37, Ferry Cuisine, aboard the Manatuska
days 36-38, the ferry from Skagway to Prince Rupert
i already posted about why i take the ferry, but also how it is the worst predictable part of my trips. the dogs must stay in vehicles; can only visit or walk them during port calls or if too far in between special car-deck visits.
here's my log for the ferry from Skagway to Prince Rupert, BC.
9/18
7:00 pm . check into ferry at terminal; it is rainng so i forego visit to town center for photos; park car in lot and work on stuff; walk dogs for last time.
11:15 pm get in line for ferry
9/19
12:15 am ...drive onto ferry. they don't give s much room to walk Leben in his wheelchair between vehicles. i unload stuff i will need on deck and orepare Defender for dogs' exclusive use ext two dys.
2:15 am ...ferry pulls out; i take my place ifor the next two days in a seat on the brudge deck. if dogs have to stay in Defender, i will not stay in a stateroom. quiet and comfortable here.
3:15 to 6:25 am...port call in Haines. because it is raining, i decide to stay with dogs in Defender.
9:45 am to 1:45 pm...port call Juneau. (i was in Juneau once before in 1992 on my first trip to Alaska after ferry ride from Washington state. i pitched my tent on the bow.) had to clean up after leben's accident in Defender. i fed him too late. walked with dogs through labyrinth of vehicles on car deck, then onto gangplank to go ashore for break. not easy navigating the gangplanks. if leben steps too far to edge, he's in trouble. erde learned how to stay on narrow yellow path as she falls through the gangplank for the vehicles. we take break in waiting room shelter for three hours.
1:45 pm...report back to seat in bridge deck lounge. find that entire Juneau High football team seated right behind me. their ferry ride to play away at Wrangell is 20 hours. surprisingly, they were pretty much a well behaved group, but not entirely. a group of them made a fort of their sleeping bags and carried on until 2:00. they were better behaved than my Pruden Lake neighbors.
9:00 to 9:45 pm...port call in Kake...raining. gangplank way too steep to take dogs out for a walk. may even have been too steep for me. how trucks and cars navigate it i do not know.
9/20
1:45 to 2:30 am ...Petersburg port call. raining. gangplank and covered walkway over water way, way too far and risky to take dogs for a walk. head back to ferry.
5:45 to 6:30 am...port call in Wrangell. take erde out for walk. raining too hard and gangplank too steep for Leben in his wheelchair.
7:00 am...high winds, rough seas, rain...ugly outside. better in the ferry than in a tent, i guess.
8:30am...voice comes over loud speaker asking me to see the purser. i run down to lower deck. i am told that my dogs are not in my car. i proceed to Defender and find back dood open, Leben sitting on ground and erde wIting with him. how he hell they got out i do not know. erde probably learned how to open back door. reminded me of ferry ride in 2001 when Leben escaped the Defender and was roaming the deck. here i thought the adventure was over.
1:30 pm to 6:30 pm...port call in Ketchikan...one hour late due to weather. rain slowing up,winds dropping. i walk to terminal with dogs. recall visit here in 2001 with dogs, then pups, when i met a bunch of kids in part at top of steep hill not far from termnal. thought about going back and looking fir kids, now all young adults. i think one of the kids, about 12 then, was Eliza. she'd be 24 today.
6:30 pm ...settled dogs in for final 8 hours to Prince Rupert. went to cafeteria and bought a steak for dinner, their dinner, for having to put up with this ferry trip. i eat my camping food on the ferry because i do not want to treat myself better than the dogs are treated. i don't eat in restaurants during the trip for the same reason, and because i don't want to leave the dogs for very long.
9/21
we arrive in Prince Rupert at 2:15 am tomorrow, 9/21. i'll probably set up camp at an RV camp until tomorrow night, get some errands done (e.g., new headlight, wash Defender, etc.) and then go sleep on the ferry line unil 7:30 when the ferry to Vancouver Island leaves, arriving at Port Hardy at 10:30.
Ed, from somewhere on the road
907-888-8693 cell
Day 37, Friday, september 20, AS IT IS HAPPENING, Ketchikan, Alaska
we boarded the ferry at Skagway almost two days ago and still have another 8 hours to go until Prince Rupert. we rest there for a day and take another 15 hour ferry to Vancouver Island. we are at a port break at Ketchikan, where we stopped 12 years ago and hiked up that hill in one of the photos to the little park at top of the hill. I was hoping to run into some of the kids we wanted to meet the pups 12 years ago at that park, but only knew one of them by name.
the ferry is the predictably worst part of the whole trip, as the other photos show. i have taken it back to BC or Washington state each time for several reasons....get us out of the cold fast, give the Defender a 1500-mile break, give me a break from driving, give the dogs somewhat of a break, although they have to stay in the Defender the whole time. it is not a pleasant trip at all. in fact, it is hell, and a reminder that the fun part of the trip is over. i will write more about this in my regular posting. but because of how the dogs have to travel, i do not get a state room but sleep in a chair on the bridge deck and visit or walk the dogs at every port. i do not eat in the cafe, but eat my camping food because i cannot feed the dogs much for obvious reasons that i will not describe. the other photos show how unpleasant life is for us.
in my regular posting that follows, i will describe what happened this morning. and here iI thought the adventure was over. Erde never ceases to amaze me with her talent. you will not believe it.
Ed, from somewhere on the road
907-888-8693 cell
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