North To Canada 1998

Nancy and I officially started our vacation when she arrived home from work on Friday, September 5, 1998.

Labor Day weekend was an easy going, relaxing weekend around the house. Nan enjoys gardening, even including the weeding part, and she tried to catch up on some of the gardening chores which for her is a form of relaxation.

On Sunday I smoked a pork loin on my super duper Black Diamond smoker from New Braunfels, Texas. It was a six hour slow smoke using a blend of mesquite and hickory water soaked woods. The last couple of hours I tossed in the smoker some fresh yellow corn on the cobs, which had been cold soaked for two hours in seasoned water. Delish!

For me, Monday and Tuesday were days to do the things I needed to do for clients so that I could take a week and a half road trip. Nancy purchased the supplies we thought we would need for our land cruise in a rented 28 foot RV. Tuesday evening we accumulated in the garage all of the gear and supplies we would be taking on the trip. It was too much to get into one of our cars and our friend and neighbor Pete was kind enough to offer to load our gear up in his pickup truck Wednesday morning and drive us to Fife, just north of Tacoma, to pick up our rental RV. We transferred the gear and supplies from Pete’s truck to the RV, and after a check of how things on the vehicle worked, Pete returned to Olympia and we started our adventure to the north.

The first part of the safari was getting the RV out of the parking lot of the rental place. I’m used to having our 28 foot sailboat pivot off the rudder in a turn. The RV seemed to pivot off the front wheels which required care in sharp turns; the back left wheel did not track in the path of the front left wheel and the opposite rear end extended beyond the turning circle. Imagine that. It took several turns to get used to this orientation.

The land yacht took up almost the full width of a lane; there were four rear wheels on a single axle. At the first two lane bridge, I pulled my arms in close to my torso to help squeeze through. I learned that I could look through the left outside mirror to see if my left outside rear wheel was still in my side of the center line. So for the first couple of days, I steered through tight spaces looking in the left rear view mirror.

On Wednesday, we drove from Fife (you better get your road atlas out for this one) to our first night’s destination. At Auburn we took Hwy 18 to Issaquah. We turned west on Hwy 90 and headed over Snoqualmie Pass. At Cle Elum we turned on the interchange 970 to 97 that connected us to Hwy 2, to Wenatchee where we turned on Alt 97 along the west bank of the Columbia River. Ah, the mighty Columbia, tamed to a mouse of lakes by hydro dams constructed along its length.

We spent our first night at Altos Lake State Park. We were greeted by a sign at the park entrance to beware of rattle snakes. We were. Altos Lake was a lovely lake in the arid desert of western Washington. While the Columbia has plenty of water, get a quarter of a mile on either side and you are in arid, high country desert. We ended our first day with a toddy on ice. Cheers.

Thursday was an aggressive driving day on roads under restoration through north western Washington; Tonasket, Wauconda, Kettle Falls, Tiger (not woods), Metaline Falls to the U.S. Canadian border. Between Kettle Falls and Tiger, we drove through a section of forest in the high elevations which had burned years before and which was making a recovery. Nan and I had an interesting discussion whether fires tended to burn up mountain sides faster than they burn down. The answer may be in the wind my friends, but then we got caught up in the fact that a forest fire tends to create its own wind storm even if otherwise there is no wind. We hurried for the border.

“How many people in the vehicle?”
“Two”
“Where are your from?”
“Olympia, Washington.”
“Are you carrying any fire arms?”
“No.”
“Any weapons?”
“Well, some people call it a hunting knife, but I mainly use it to cut rope and peel apples.” [It is really a USMC killing machine in the hands of a trained artist, but it also peels an apple nicely if the blade is properly honed.]
“Any fruit on board?”
“An orange and a banana.”
“Any alcohol?”
“Uh, maybe some wine?”
“How much wine?”
“4 bottles of Columbia Crest Chardonnay and a pinch of Scotch.”
“Humm. Where you going in Canada?”
“We are going to scoot across highway 3 to Creston and turn back into Idaho. We’ll spend a night in Glacier National Park in the U.S. and then head north to Wateron Lakes in Canada. From there, we will go to Yahoo and Glacier.”
Nan interceded, “Don’t you mean Yoho, not Yahoo?”
“I’ll accept Yahoo today,” he grinned. “Have a nice visit and drive safely.”

Last year, in September ‘97 on the sail boat, when we reported to customs at Bedwell Harbor, we had to give up oranges and apples. This year, Canadian customs was on a holiday and we were the beneficiaries. We drove north a short distance to Canada Highway 3 and were treated to a beautiful drive up a long vista over Kootenay Pass. Ah, Canada! That evening, we stayed at a private campground, Summit Lake Campground. It was a lovely forested area and there were few campers at midweek. We could feel ourselves relaxing into vacation mode.

Friday morning, we departed Summit Lake and drove back into the U.S. into Idaho. U.S. customs did not care where we had been, but they asked where we lived and where we were going. I gave them the itinerary. Eyes rolled and we were granted entry with no questions of weapons, booze or illegal contraband.

After listening to this spiel a second time, Nancy suggested that I did not have to give them our complete itinerary about going back into Canada, and besides, it was none of their business where we were going.

“Did they search the RV?”
“No.”
Did they strip search either of us?”
“No.”
Were we delayed in any way?”
“No.”

I told Nan that she could take the lead at the next border crossing to see if she could get better results. She eschewed the opportunity.

After crossing into Idaho, we immediately encountered the longest road repair delay of the trip. After waiting more than 30 minutes a pilot car escorted us through six miles of major re-pavement. It was nasty. Fortunately, we did not have to spend too much time in Idaho. Shortly after the road work, we turned east into Montana. Our first stop was Libby, Montana, to go by the local Super 8 Motel to pick up a federal express package from Micron electronics. Micron was supposed to send a replacement for the wrong adapter cord they sent me that allows me to hook up my computer to a 12-volt cigarette lighter. It was supposed to have arrived on Thursday, and had not arrived by Friday noon.

From Libby, we continued on to Apgar Campground in Glacier National Park on the shore of lovely Lake McDonald. We were surprised and disappointed to see how crowded the campground was, since we waited until after school started to being our vacation. Nan reminded me that it was a weekend and that we were competing with the weekend campers.

A big disappointment presented itself at Apgar. The primary reason for taking this route was to take the “Going to the Sun” highway through Glacier National Park. It is one of the most scenic roadways in the world, or at least the U.S. The cab of our RV is so big that were able to set up a tripod for our Hi8 video camera between our seats. The plan was to record the breath taking scenery on this special highway. Vehicles over 21 feet in length are prohibited from taking the Going to the Sun highway. This is what sold me on the idea of 5th wheel trailer campers over motorized RVs. There would be several times during the vacation where the size of our RV prevented us from driving to an area we wanted to see. Other travelers with trailers simply unhooked from their turtle backs and drove their tow vehicle to the area they wanted to see.

We took the southerly route to circumnavigate Glacier National Park. East of Glacier, at Browning, we headed north into Canada. I did the itinerary routine at the border and we again avoided being stripped searched. This time they didn’t bother to ask us about the orange we were carrying. I did have to declare my apple peeling hunting knife.

Canadian customs told us that we were entering a forest fire zone and that we were not allowed to stop along the roadway and that a speed limit restriction was in effect. In fact, we did drive through a hot zone of a forest fire that had been contained, but continued to smolder. We drove through terrain of charred trees on both sides of the road way. We passed fire fighter camps and helicopters which were being used to ferry crews to the burn line. It was surrealistic.

Saturday afternoon we arrived in Waterton Lakes, one of my favorite places of all time. We had been here about ten years ago. The one change that was obvious was that sail boarders have discovered the constant wind on the long mountain peak enclosed lake that disregards the U.S.A. - Canadian boundary. This is a magical place in a water filled valley of majestic mountain peaks.

Sunday morning began our voyage to new, undiscovered lands. It was a long, but gorgeous drive to Kootenay National Park. We made our first crossing of the Canadian “Great Divide” at Crows Nest crossing. That afternoon, we arrived in Radium Hot Springs and found a spot in Redstreak campground. Or at least we thought we had found a spot. It turned out that the spot had been paid for but not properly designated as an occupied spot. We were able to transfer to another site, and enjoyed another wonderful evening. Color us smooth and laid back in the forest filtered setting sun.

Monday was a new dawn in the Canadian Northwest. We crossed back over the Great Divide at Vermilion Pass, but not before exploring the Paint Pots where a symphony of chemicals in the soil and springs of water leach colors of orange, yellow, red and brown over the landscape. This site was first used by the early peoples in religious and tribal ceremonies, and later mined for a source of color in the manufacture of paint. We also stopped at Marble Canyon to view where blue glacial meltwater has carved a deep, narrow gorge through gray limestone walls. It was so narrow and curvy that we could only look from top down and in most places we could only hear the rush water in the shadowy abyss.

Around mid day Monday, we arrived at another favorite place, Lake Louise. We had not planned to visit Lake Louise this trip, but all the other campgrounds in Kootenay were closed for the season, and the LL campground was still open for business. We secured a site for the RV and ventured to the Chateau and contiguous Lake Louise. We had lunch at the Chateau and took video of the glaciers at the end of the lake. From LL, we drove to Moraine Lake which has changed a lot since our previous visit. Lodges, condos and canoe rentals have arrived. We grabbed some pictures and video of ML and took an interesting interpretive hike. Perhaps even more than LL, ML captures the glacier hue of the water.

Tuesday, we departed LL for Yoho National Park. I first heard of Yoho (no, not from the Canadian customs agent) from Jim Barnhart, on old work buddy who enjoyed a winter vacation in Yoho. Entering Yoho was our fourth and last crossing of the Great Divide (Continental Divide in the U.S.) of the trip. Why did Canada get the most beautiful parts of the North American Rockies? I am at a loss for words to try to describe the pulchritude of this magnificent land and the ribbons of roadways that carried us over mountain passes, between glacier tipped ranges, along flour colored, white crested, rapid raging rivers to lowland meadows where exhausted water finally found reprieve, where much of the mornings and afternoons are spent in shadows of the towering, rocky sentinels.

We arrived at Kicking Horse campground midday. After securing a site, Nancy and I set about on our first official hike of more than three hours. We were about to enter into the history of how muscle and steam driven machines began to tame sheer walls of rock. No, “tame” is not the right word. There is no taming this tumultuous land. It is more of a temporary, negotiated stalemate until the next landslide or avalanche. Where nature cannot be tamed, men found that with mighty effort it could be tunneled, picked, drilled, and blasted; burned, shoveled and hauled, piece by laborious piece.

We started our hike from the KH campground along the old tote road that thousands of men traveled to work on the “Big Hill”, the steepest grade on the entire transcontinental line of the CPR, which was completed in 1885. The Kicking Horse work camp supported the men who worked 14 hour days on the Big Hill. An old stone laid bake oven still sits in the campground among the trees. We climbed to the present day rail line, and then climbed higher to the site of the original Big Hill line. Twenty Five years after the Big Hill grade was completed, two spiral tunnels were built using tunnels inside the mountains to lessen the grade that was the cause of many run away trains, death and destruction. We found old, discarded water pipes constructed of rounded half cored planks of timber that were sandwiched together and bound with steel wire closely wrapped around the length of wood. They used the technology of the day and available resources.

When the spiral tunnels were being built, two small narrow gauge work engines hauled rock out of the tunnels. One was abandoned in the forest and is interred there today. We walked the grade of the old Big Hill and found a side grade that was used as an uphill track for runaway trains, similar to the kind of runaway grades we still see today for 18 wheelers along steep declines of highways descending from high mountain passes. A creative imagination is a useful tool to have on such a hike.

For me, one of the exciting parts of the hike is when Nancy and I descended to the present rail line and found a short tunnel going through a crop of mountain.

“What if a train comes?”
“We would hear it now, if one was close.”
“How do you know?”
“I, I just know; it’s a guy thing.”
“You might be wrong.”
“Well then, kneel down and put your ear on the rail.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“If a train is coming you can hear it. I learned that as a boy. I used to live near railroad tracks.”

Against her intuition, we decided to walk through the tunnel, all the while carrying on a conversation about how far away a train would be before we could hear it coming. I was a little concerned that we might not hear it if one of us kept talking the way she was. Halfway through our scurry through the tunnel, Nancy, who was in favor of a quick transit, wanted to discuss the rock through which the tunnel had been blasted. Not slowing down, I voted with my feet to talk about it only after we reached the other end.

We got to the other side and realized that to get back to our camp, we had to go back the way we had come. Again, I took the lead, but about half way through, Nancy announced that she was nervous and broke into a trot, or more like a half sprint, past me and through the rest of the tunnel. I felt like we were being chased by a bear and Nancy wanted to make sure that she could out run me. And she did.

Wednesday morning we departed Yoho National Park and went to Glacier National Park where we “discovered” a wonderful campground along the Illecillewaet River fed by the glacier of the same name. A notice posted on the message board warned of a potentially dangerous situation that was being monitored by the forest service. It expressed curious concern whether due to the warmer than usual summer, an ice dam near the toe of the glacier, which held back a lot of glacier melt, would hold until the winter. If the ice dam showed signs of failure we were to be ready to depart the campground immediately. The campground was the loveliest spot to date. Our site was nestled among towering hemlocks. We should have stayed another night there just to test that dam.

After two nights without hookups to the RV, we were ready to treat ourselves and recharge the batteries in our video camera and laptop computer at a full service, yet rustic campground. You should see this RV. There is no roughing it here. The only real limitations are the amount of water we can carry and how fast the holding tanks fill up. But we roughed it in our own way. We forgot to bring a television set so we could try out the telescoping antenna connected to the top of the RV.

Leaving Glacier NP, we drove through Mt. Revelstoke National Park. We found a real treat in the town of Revelstoke; the Revelstoke Railway Museum. We spent a couple of hours going through all of the exhibits and climbing around on the restored CPR (Canadian Pacific Railroad) Steam Locomotive 5468. This place is a must for railroad history buffs. I may sign up myself. I’ve always had an interest in narrow gauge railroads. I digress to refer you to the ngr system that connects Durango, Colorado to Silverton, Colorodo through the Needle Mountains. Many years ago, Nancy and I, by chance, rode this train on its 100th anniversary. The video on this vacation is still in circulation, or someone is hoarding it somewhere.

Leaving Revelstoke, we found a private campground that met our requirements on the edge of Yard Creek Provincial Park. Cedars Campground had full hook ups in a rustic setting, and best of all, there were few occupants. The skies clouded and colored and a change of weather was in the air. This did not deter us from an afternoon hike in the contiguous Provincial Park. We found a trail that led to the Eagle River, where to our pleasant discovery, a run of Sockeye salmon was in progress. A number of the fish had completed their spawn and had given up the ghost. Still more, however, were jockeying for position, searching for the stream or tributary from which they emerged years before. I recommend for your reading pleasure the chapter in Michner’s book, Alaska, that describes the life cycle of a salmon from the eye of a fry.

We also happened upon a nature trail that wound through several ecosystems of trees and associated habitat. We were a little nervous about the trail since we had observed bear tracks on the bank of the Eagle River; signs of one or more bears feasting at the river’s edge. Salmon have many obstacles to overcome in their final dance, including hungry bears.

Shortly after returning from our hike, a brilliant flash of lightning and rumble of thunder heralded an approaching storm. Drizzle to wash the road dust from the RV. Off and on again, with an intermittent breeze, I cooked dinner on a portable gas lava charcoal stove which I had borrowed from the neighbors. The timing was perfect, and Nancy and I enjoyed a candle light dinner in the RV as pellets of rain danced on the roof, and strobes of lightning flash froze our dining postures; a Chardonnay lifted towards lips, a sapid cut of steak stabbed on a fork, a grin, a twinkle, a frozen “you” preceded by candle flickered, “I love”. And the thunder rolled.

Friday morning we resumed our descent from the Selkirk Mountains to the chain of lakes in the Kelowna valley. We spent the night at Okanagan Falls Provincial Park. At dusk, we walked to the nearby Okanagan River to watch the water fowl prepare for the night, including small river bats that flitted in chase of insects. Exciting eh? That night, we again slumbered to the rhythm of rain drops.

Saturday morning, we realized that the vacation was over and that we were on weekend time. We slept in before saying so long to Canada. It was a short drive to Osoyoos and the border, during which I practiced my routine for the U.S. Customs. I was ready for bear.

“Good morning.”
“What country are you citizens of?”
“U.S.”
“Bringing anything back from Canada?”
“Nope.”
“Have a nice day.”

I was shocked. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t do that to us. I couldn’t remember whether we had a constitutional right to tell where we had been and the things we had seen. I wanted to tell him about my apple peeling hunting knife. What is this country coming to that they will just let anyone come across the border? I felt cheated.

Driving across the border, I began singing a ditty about the sweet smell of American soil. Nancy reminded me that Canadians are Americans too. I’m not sure how far south she is willing to extend that demarcation, but surely anything contiguous to the States should be considered American. I wonder what the South and other Americans think of this. So res ipsa, I was right; the soil is sweet, and diverse. We stopped at Oroville and loaded up on U.S. wine and fruits, and purchased a USA today. At the town of Okanogan we turned on highway 20 west. After the berg of Twisp, we located Pearrygin Lake State Park, where we set camp for the night.

I was delighted to see Sosa and McGwire tied at 63 home runs. The day was cloudy and the wind brisk and cool. We enjoyed a walk about and an afternoon nap. I grilled chicken on the portable barbee for dinner, to go with a cold bottle of Columbia Crest Chardonnay in salute to our final night of a wonderful trip.

Sunday morning, we continued our journey on highway 20 over the Cascade Range, through the picturesque North Cascades National Park. This is a wonderful, scenic drive and I recommend it to you if you travel to this area. I wish we had the time to stop and see all the sights and viewpoints. This passage through the Cascades was icing on the trip; eye candy that reminded us of the beauty of Washington state. We intersected I-5 near Sedro Woolley and from there it was a straight three hour drive south to Olympia.

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