June 21-22 The Cassiar Highway

We traveled this remote and spectacularly beautiful stretch of road for 450 miles until connected with the Alaskan Highway. As you can see, Fisher was interested in the sights!

We spent our night in a gravel pull-off beside the road with no traffic to interrupt our sleep. A few native villages are scattered the length of the road, but not much else. The Cassiar winds by pristine blue glacial lakes and rivers. Seeing bears became so common place that even Bucky blew by some without taking out his camera. Rivers connect to lakes and lakes become rivers in a valley of Spruce too thick to see through. Equally as thick, are the bugs. If the winds of WY can drive a man mad, the bugs of the Cassiar are sure to do so. We were happy to be enclosed with screens on the windows and thought how awful it would be to sleep in a tent. At mile 97.5 of the Cassiar, one can turn west onto 37a to Stewart, BC and Hyder, AK. Our plan was to go to these towns in search of the Golden Spruce, a huge tree that was cut down by a crazy person. However, we discovered that the tree is only accessible from Prince Rupert and then by ferry, so......no need for us to take 37a. We continued on until connecting with the Alaskan Highway.

Sights of the Bella Coola Valley

Into the Bella Coola Valley

How fitting that we headed into the town of Bella Coola, on the Cariboo Chilcotin Coast on Father's Day. We had talked about someday seeing this small coastal town ever since watching an old Gordon Eastman video in which he goes to Bella Coola, meets with some native men, builds a 3 moose canoe and floats the Bella Coola River. Our plan was only to accomplish the first part of Gordon Eastman's adventure, go to Bella Coola. Once again the native a comes into play. There is only one road into Bella Coola which means the 280 miles in, is the same 280 miles out. This is RT 20 from Williams Lake, BC. It proved to be all that we had hoped it would be. A long, and at points, scary drive with plenty of wildlife to keep us entertained. It is a land inhabited by native people, cattle and horses. Open range. The final stretch over Heckman Pass is what those who have traveled to Bella Coola speak the most about. It's a "well maintained gravel road", although more appropriate for a small Mini Cooper than for our RV. Descending the 18 % grade with hairpin turns sent us directly to the ferry terminal upon our arrival in Bella Coola to see about taking the ocean route out rather than to retrace our steps. Imagine, Bucky preferring seasickness over driving ! Unfortunately, that wasn't an option and we retraced our steps back to Williams Lake on the Solstice, seeing many bears by doing so. Again, God working his magic. With the numerous opportunities to photograph scenery and wildlife, Bucky had one of his best thoughts yet. As he put it, "what I'd like to do sometime is drop you off on the highway and have you video me driving away and get the RV against the mountains." To which I said, "no way". Note to self, learn to drive the RV and drop Bucky off on the highway to video me driving toward the mountains !

June 18th

I had to include a photo of the wheatfields in Davenport, WA. They were an inspiring sight and another reminder of where our food comes from. Traveling out of Davenport, we enjoyed bing cherries, asparagus, tomatoes and potatoes from the Okanogan valley, wandering along the Columbia River and this fertile farm country. Grand Cooley was a town that we thought deserved more of our time, but we needed to keep moving. In the pretty town of Osowoos, WA we entered British Columbia. We then followed the wine trail through a valley of snow capped peaks and signs saying, "no national park". It was easy to see why they might not want their paradise found by others. The Smilkameen River seemed to offer a sweet ride for rafters along with the mountains to climb and ski.

Spokane Jiffy Lube

We enjoyed seeing Eastern Washington. It is said that it is not so much about the journey, but about the people you meet along the way. This proved true at Jiffy Lube. Having reached the 3,000 mile mark, Bucky decided it was time to change the oil while we were still in civilization. Fisher relished her time tied to a tree alongside the garage and spread herself out under its leaves. The young man changing our oil didn't hesitate to crawl under our vehicle on the hot asphalt as it was too large to fit in the bay. He periodically emerged from underneath with a little more grease smeared on his face and would look over at Fisher and smile. He repeated this action several times, with a little more grease on his face each time, but still smiling. While Bucky looked on, he began talking to him of his country and the smart dog his grandfather had owned. Evidently, it herded the goats. "It was so smart a dog." He then spoke of his father's dog, also unusually intelligent, and he looked again at Fisher now sprawled on her side in the shade.  Was he thinking that she also was so smart a dog?  When finished under the truck, he continued his work under the hood. Here he once again emerged, now considerably more dirty, holding our air filter.  Tucked in the accordion like vents were fussy, mummified mouse carcasses. He looked over at Fisher and smiled. Without learning through us, he seemed to know of her success as a rodent hunter. Anticipating the presence of more undiscovered dead bodies, I headed for a Starbucks conveniently placed next door, convincing me that God does work in mysterious ways. We left Spokane, short one pint of VT maple syrup to be enjoyed at Jiffy Lube and wondering if crawling under people's cars in Spokane could ever be as nice as working on the farm in Bosnia.

Mt Rushmore and more...

Leaving the Corn Capital of the World in Mitchell South Dakota was not a difficult decision. Although we both enjoy a good sweet ear of corn on the cob, enough is enough. It was with relief that we reached Rapid City S.D. and began the climb into the Black Hills. Being back in the mountains had a calming affect on the three of us. It was with great anticipation that we looked into the distance to get our first glimpse of the presidents etched in stone. Our pleasure turned to sadness when Bucky learned that there no longer was sufficient stimulus money available for the carving of his profile. It was a shock, but also satisfying to know that so much of the money had been used for other worthy projects. From Rushmore it was through the Blackhills to Deadwood where Wild Bill Hickock lay buried, feeling a part of the old West and the Gold Rush and eventually landing in the hard working town of Gillette, WY for the night. The Wal*Mart of Gillette treated us to the sights of a true western town. It is an industrial town with more white dually pick-ups carrying metal stuff in their beds than exist in the whole Northeast. We settled right in with luxury coaches and the Sticker Bus. What the sticker bus was all about, only the owners know and we didn't ask. I first noticed it down the street parked with roof lights flashing and thought it belonged to a bar and was a rolling advertisement, but when I pulled open my window shade in the morning, it was our neighbor. My brother always said that the winds of Wyoming would drive a sane man crazy. That night the wind howled and shook the RV as if to send it on its side. On Fisher's morning walk, she laid back her ears and headed for the closest curb and ran back into the safety of the camper. Bucky drove through high wind all the next day, Buffalo, Sheridan, Billings MT, Bozeman and into Butte, MT where we slept in the shadow of snow capped peaks. We heard from our fellow Wal*Mart campers that we were lucky to have escaped the hail that they passed through. Now, that explains the Hail Chaser RV parked beside us in Gillette.

So the journey begins....

After leaving Saratoga Springs on the morning of the 13th, we were excited about being "officially" underway. We had previously decided that we were not truly started until we were out of Vermont. It was a struggle to make that happen, but now it was true. As I write this, I remember now that I never did finish cleaning out the frig, I suppose if I call Sutton and tell him, free beer, he'll finish the job for me. Crashing for the night in Saratoga wasn't so bad and Fisher was indoctrinated into camping Wal*Mart style. She seemed happy to smell the sweet smells of the Walmart parking lot, complete with remains of Happy Meals. Fighting the seagulls for them seemed no problem for her, surely an inherited skill from her Siberian ancestors along the Bering Sea. Today was spent traveling through Indian country. First along the Susquahana and then the Allegany, causing Bucky to question his wisdom in having the rifle packed away as we headed into the Seneca Nation. How convenient that the road signage is in both English and the native Seneca tongue. Having very poor radio reception, Bucky and I stayed amused for an hour or more speaking to each other in Indian. They say that it is polite and respectful to try using the language of the area you are in. I have to admit to using sign language a few times. True to the native culture, a three storied, mirror walled casino sprung out of nowhere and tried to entice us in. Along with this temptation, came the sign for the Zippo Museum. Something of this significance seemed like a "must see" but we managed to blow by contented with images of silver lighters expertly flicked open and the smell of Zippo in our nostrils. We are not surprised that Fisher travels like a veteran of the open road. She is quiet and patient never finding fault with Bucky's driving. Oneonta, Elmira, Cayuga, Cautaugua, Seneca, even Tioga, you have to love the a. We crossed the Genesee River causing Bucky to say, "I want one". Looking at the color of the water made we understand more fully why it is an acquired taste. Through Binghamton, Elmira, Suny Cobelskill, Alfred, Saint Bonaventure and Mercyhurst causing us to recall past students who had attended some of these schools. "Let's see, didn't A.F. go to Alfred and play lax, or was he at Hobart? And Suny Cobelskill, I think that's where N.F. went, or did he go to Suny Morristown?" Memories or lack there of. Trying to figure it all out passed away another hour of driving time. And at the Ohio border one has to wonder why Cleveland rocks?
June 14-15
Well, Middlebury Indiana has some pretty parts, but it doesn't compare to Middlebury, VT. We hear that folks from Middlebury,Vermont settled this area as well as Goshen, Indiana. We stopped at the Jayco factory and looked at a few RV units. There really was nothing that tempted us. What was incredible about the area were tha Amish farms and large Amish community. We seemed to have hit the Amish on wash day as everyone had clothes on the line. By the number of items hanging out to dry, it would seem everyone should be walking about naked. They can't possibly wash all those clothes by hand, must be they have gas washers. Seeing the horses and buggies holding the berm while tractor trailers whized by made the clash of cultures very apparent. It was down hill after Middlebury. I sent Bucky to Elkhart Indiana, the home of Winnebago Industries, the only problem being that Tom Tom our on board navigator couldn't locate it. He sent us around and around until I resorted to calling Pete's RV in Burlington to find out the address.....Forest River Iowa ! By the time that Bucky began speaking to me again, we had missed the whole state of Iowa and were in Wisconsin. And people say that the US is soooo big. We missed a whole state without even trying. I think that things happen for a reason and that God works in mysterious ways. He obviously was relieving us of the temptations we might have felt should we have actually found Winnebago. I had one other revelation today as we motored along. As some of you may or may not know, this school year has been difficult. While flying down I 90 with Dolly Parton belting out 9 to 5 on the radio, an envelope dropped from the overhead and landed in the cab. I tucked it back up only to have three more fall down. I took it as a not so subtle reminder to mail in my contract for work for which I have an extension until the 18th. Let's see, the 15th is today, 16th, 17th, 18th.... hmmm. Note to self, rearrange traveling desk over the cab so as not to have anymore reminders fall on my head.
The farm country of Minnesota was awesome and a strong reminder of where our food comes from. We're in Mitchell, South Dakota tonight, Burke remember the Corn Palace? It's off to Mt Rushmore tomorrow where they've asked to see Bucky in person before they start carving his face into the mountain.

Four Days and Counting

I keep asking Fisher if she's ready to make the long trip. I interpret her blah, bla, blah, blah, blah as "Yes, I'm sooooo ready. When are we leaving?" Carlisle still can't believe that her dog is traveling to Alaska to see her. Who knows, maybe we'll get her close enough to see Siberia ! It looks like we're on schedule to leave Saturday June 12th. The house is about ready for our renters who move in on the 22nd and Bucky has work settled in the capable hands of his brother. I have a huge pile of things waiting to be put into the RV and although I know that less is more, I still find it difficult not to include another set of toe nail clippers, food storage container or the like. It's not as if we will never see a Walmart parking lot during the next 5,000 miles. I'm intentionally forgetting some really important items just to be have an excuse to shop. Packed in the storage unit of the RV is the new Hobitat 4, which is sure to see some use in Nome as well as along the Dalton Highway and in Mc Carthy.

Bucky and I are both chomping at the bit to get moving down the highway.

Back in the saddle again

We can't wait. In June, we will be back on the road from VT to AK. Although we've been several times since our last post, it's been by airplane. We're so anxious to make the long drive again and hope the Montara does as well as before. An added passenger will be Fisher, Walter, Gary Merrill, Goose Lacroix, Chukka, Keen Doria

Raymond F. Kuhlmann Dec.26, 1913 to Aug.16, 2008

It is with both sadness and happiness that Bucky and I leave Alaska tomorrow. We were notified yesterday of Dad's death. As described to us by Jean McCandless, who was so instrumental in keeping Dad in his own home, he "looked peaceful, as if he was sleeping". Dad was found unresponsive in his favorite chair in the living room after having enjoyed a "fine" cup of coffee with his caregiver only a short time before. We have regrets about not being closer to Burlington at this time, but feel comforted and happy knowing that Dad passed on as he had wished, quietly, peacefully, without illness or struggle, in his "own little house".