tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-104737862024-03-13T08:32:51.814-07:00Miscellaneous Shellfish"I have such a lot in common with Jane Austen. Neither of us could endure a mess." <br>- - Cold Comfort FarmCousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.comBlogger552125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-42314270701974485372009-09-11T12:07:00.000-07:002009-09-11T12:47:26.331-07:00A niche that needs fillingThe visitor statistics for this blog indicate that a large number of people who find themselves here actually want to learn about the invention of dog food. When it was invented, who invented it. Apparently somebody totally needs to write a Wikipedia article about that.<br /><br />There are also quite a few people who come here wanting answers to a question that somehow combines dogs, shellfish, and travel to Canada. You'd be surprised how many people have such a question. Can you take dogs to Canada? Or import shellfish from Canada? Can dogs eat shellfish? In Canada? Are there any Canadian shellfish named after dogs? What role did shellfish played in the invention of Canadian dog food? etc etc<br /><br />Alas, I know they are all leaving disappointed. I'm sorry people, I cannot help you. And now I realize by writing this post I've simply reinforced Miscellaneous Shellfish as the leading Google contender for these various search terms. So sorry.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-84512991235608751072009-09-09T14:14:00.000-07:002009-09-09T14:16:59.084-07:00I could watch this all day<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCw_UoRhTUk">Boyfriend with Health Benefits</a><br /><br />Thank heavens <span style="font-style: italic;">someone</span> still has a sense of humor on this topic.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-24681049965261248892009-09-04T14:52:00.001-07:002009-09-04T15:02:43.791-07:00One last adventureThis weekend is many things, including Enrico's birthday today (Happy Birthday!), and Girls Weekend, the annual outing with my two childhood friends who live nearby. It will also be one last camping outing for Eva before we put her up for sale.<br /><br />Girls Weekend always happens in August or September. We make a weekend of some lovely northwest destination, and this year it will be Victoria (because it's just been way too long since I've been to Canada!). Since the birth of Julie's daughter Sophie, girls weekend now includes her too. We are teaching her The Way of the Girlfriend, and we take that solemn duty very seriously.<br /><br />So tonight Enrico, Monica, the dogs and I will head out to the Kitsap peninsula, where our household pack will get one more night together in Eva, sleeping under the stars at Julie and Dan's beautiful wooded property. Then The Girls will head off to Victoria, on the ferry via Port Angeles. Enrico plans to hang with the Boys for a while, before finding himself a nice little campsite somewhere with Eva and the dogs.<br /><br />I've started loading up the van, so the dogs know something's up, and they are So! Very! Excited!<br /><br />It should all be great fun.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-55646277739218730862009-09-03T18:53:00.000-07:002009-09-03T19:35:05.453-07:00More treasures!Enrico is starting to wonder about my sanity, I think. In the throes of a pretty intense consulting project and repeated complaints about how I'm losing my mind from coordinating umpteen contractors and building inspectors and repair people, not to mention the dogs' medication schedule, and we're leaving town again this weekend which will be fun but GOOD LORD I have no more mental capacity for travel planning, wah wah WAAH - In short, while whining about how overwhelmed and fragmented I feel, I persist in buying weird castoff stuff from the Boeing Company.<br /><br />Is there any urgency to buying this stuff? No. Our storage crunch has been with us for a year, and thus demonstrably doesn't need to be fixed immediately. Boeing will always have more castoffs. So why do I insist on adding one more thing to my list, shoehorning in the time to drive the van down to Boeing and pick up dirty old crap?<br /><br />It's a mystery.<br /><br />But tomorrow I'll make second trip down to Boeing to get this wooden storage chest. With a coat of fresh paint and a padlock, it'll be perfect for storing our tools and camp stove and some of our emergency supplies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB0psQWZOI/AAAAAAAAAYc/kSw5O9XDpy4/s1600-h/wood+box.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 263px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB0psQWZOI/AAAAAAAAAYc/kSw5O9XDpy4/s320/wood+box.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377426214683567330" border="0" /></a><br />My nemesis did not show up online to sabotage my bid this time, so I acquired this little gem for a mere $30!<br /><br />I've already picked up my Six Wood Boxes (as Lot #2357612 is known), and I stand behind my assessment that they are a find. Beautifully crafted for storing highly delicate and expensive machine tools, the hardware alone is worth a couple hundred bucks.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB4Bh77eXI/AAAAAAAAAYs/Wnb80NwLYnw/s1600-h/HPIM0836.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB4Bh77eXI/AAAAAAAAAYs/Wnb80NwLYnw/s200/HPIM0836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377429922765306226" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB7MA5-f9I/AAAAAAAAAY0/JAWV3psEeGM/s1600-h/HPIM0838.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB7MA5-f9I/AAAAAAAAAY0/JAWV3psEeGM/s200/HPIM0838.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377433401412190162" border="0" /></a><br />The three large boxes will be used for storage, but the three little ones are definitely a craft project in the making. I have big plans for them, oh yes I do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB7mxUg3RI/AAAAAAAAAY8/RcWcxD0fXBw/s1600-h/HPIM0837.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB7mxUg3RI/AAAAAAAAAY8/RcWcxD0fXBw/s200/HPIM0837.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377433861084994834" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB8FMwlt9I/AAAAAAAAAZE/fCNvUJM2nNQ/s1600-h/HPIM0839.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SqB8FMwlt9I/AAAAAAAAAZE/fCNvUJM2nNQ/s200/HPIM0839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377434383846586322" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-7659129935081411352009-09-01T21:05:00.000-07:002009-09-02T07:48:09.899-07:00Oh for heaven's sake, this ain't EbayAmidst my flurry of <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2009/08/freecyclin.html">Freecycling</a> unwanted stuff away - yes, the generic Zantac was gone within 12 hours, my friends! - I have, on the other side of the coin, been fixatedly scanning the <a href="https://active.boeing.com/assocproducts/surplus/SearchResults.cfm?scl=t">Boeing Surplus online auctions</a> for an answer to our storage needs.<br /><br />A couple months ago, we got invited to a housewarming party at the home of a younger, hipper couple. They had purchased these awesome rolling tool containers from Boeing surplus, painted them bright colors, and arranged them around their back deck as storage containers, benches, and raised planter beds. It was a masterpiece of repurposed industrial chic.<br /><br />I've been looking for, oh, forever for a solution to our outdoor storage needs. We have no garage, no basement, and we tore down our nasty rat-infested shed last summer. I have extensively researched cheap modular sheds, custom-built sheds, eco-friendly modular buildings, custom designed cabinetry for under the carport, storage chests made from recycled plastic, a small add-on off our back door, and adding flooring and a fold-down staircase for our unfinished attic. I have created spreadsheets comparing the cost, cubic footage, and eco-friendliness of each option. The ones I like best are outrageously expensive.<br /><br />And so, inspired by our younger hipper friends, I wondered if perhaps some Boeing cast-offs could meet my needs. Have you ever visited Boeing surplus? It's pretty well known among local nonprofits as a source of cheap office furniture. But they have all kinds of things. Hydraulic lifts, rolling aircraft stairs, power tools, engine parts, wires and cables, fire hoses, insulation, work tables, bicycles, cafeteria equipment, flame-resistant storage cabinets. There are mysterious gizmos like fluke multimeters and gaussmeters. There are grab-bag items like "a trove of shop tools" or "miscellaneous casters." Not to mention the many full hides of fine Scottish leather.<br /><br />But most saliently, there are storage carts, cabinets and boxes of all sizes and descriptions.<br /><br />I rejected the 32-foot long office trailer even though the starting bid was only $500; no way I could pick that up in Eva. I bid on two things, both beaten up but with, I thought, a certain charm. I could envision painting them bright colors. The auction for the first item expired this evening, and with five minutes left I checked to verify that I was still the top bidder, at a whopping $35. Enrico shook his head. I know, I said; as if somebody is sitting out there waiting to pounce with a last-minute bid.<br /><br />Being neurotic, I refreshed it with 2 minutes to go. Somebody had upped the bid by $5.<br /><br />Stunned, I nonetheless regained my wits and submitted a new bid. They countered. In the last 90 seconds of the auction, my invisible opponent and I furious lodged 6 more bids. Up, up up it went, $50, $60, $70! But lo! Victory was mine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sp30Bm5X7cI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ZVk6BxqjmWo/s1600-h/Boeing+boxes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sp30Bm5X7cI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ZVk6BxqjmWo/s320/Boeing+boxes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376721838608477634" border="0" /></a><br />Can't you just visualize them repainted bright colors, a masterpiece of repurposed industrial chic? Enrico can't. But I can.<br /><br />So I still have a bid out on one more item, which is actually a much more practical answer to our storage need. But I'm not going to tell you which one it is, now that I know how cut-throat these auctions are. At five minutes before the deadline I'll be waiting, fingers poised above the keyboard to protect my find.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-33502162533917096332009-08-30T17:05:00.001-07:002009-08-30T17:12:50.490-07:00Before & after<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SpsUUQb6lvI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Bc-MG6yDhdY/s1600-h/HPIM0801.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SpsUUQb6lvI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Bc-MG6yDhdY/s320/HPIM0801.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375912918438811378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SpsVbRNVuLI/AAAAAAAAAYM/M-Su56_mLVk/s1600-h/HPIM0832.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SpsVbRNVuLI/AAAAAAAAAYM/M-Su56_mLVk/s320/HPIM0832.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375914138416822450" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-18590006670654454932009-08-30T08:16:00.000-07:002009-08-30T08:46:00.343-07:00Freecyclin'Our laundry area is more or less back in order now, with a new floor, coat of paint, and shelving. There is still some drywall and trim repair to do here and there, but it's tidy enough. And now that we've painted that end of the kitchen, we'll have to paint the rest. Yesterday was a three-hardware-store-trip day, but we have our washing machine back, and a place to put all the stuff that was dumped all over the house for the past two weeks. And the hellmouth to our crawlspace is once again closed.<br /><br />So meanwhile, I am trying to get rid of some stuff that we don't need, and my new favorite thing is Freecycle. The <a href="http://www.freecycle.org/">Freecycle Network</a>™ is <span style="font-style: italic;">"made up of 4,799 groups with 7,192,000 members across the globe. It's a grassroots and entirely nonprofit movement of people who are giving (& getting) stuff for free in their own towns. It's all about reuse and keeping good stuff out of landfills."</span><br /><br />Seattle's group has about 20,000 members. Here's how it works: You post either "Offered" or "Wanted," with a description of the item and your neighborhood. It must be free, the receiver picks it up, and you must make individual arrangements to have your item picked up (not just "it's on the front porch, y'all come and may the first one win!"). Once the deal is done, you post an updated "Taken" or "Received" notice. Volume is probably 50 notices a day, but sent in 2-4 aggregated digests.<br /><br />I appreciate that people come pick my stuff up, which makes it way easy. But mostly I love the emphasis on redistributing our crap to where it will get used - keeping things out of landfills, reducing the natural resources used to produce new items, helping people live frugally. And it appears that nearly any piece of crap will get used by <span style="font-style: italic;">somebody</span>. Oh the obvious stuff, like futons and dining room tables, baby clothes and moving boxes, bicycles and textbooks - that goes in about ten minutes. But some of the things definitely have more niche appeal: two dozen egg cartons, multiple broken vacuum cleaners, antique fiddle cases, half-used containers of everything from cat litter to over-the-counter pharmaceuticals.<br /><br />I've unloaded three things so far: an ergonomic exercise ball, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cousinflora/3779377462/in/set-72157621355518979/">The Structure</a> from our recent Canadian trip (even with full disclosure about the tear in the mesh, caused by dog lunging at elk), and the seven planks of discontinued-color marmoleum which we bought and then could not use after all on our kitchen floor. All claimed (by email at least, not picked up) within<span style="font-style: italic;"> an hour</span>. The couple of times I've tried to claim something, I've never been the winning non-bidder. Stuff moves fast in the freecycle community.<br /><br />So I'm getting bolder and planning to list some more esoteric stuff. The unopened bottle of extra-strength Zantac generic that I accidentally bought at Costco. Unused paint. Who knows how much of my crap would be a delightful find to somebody else?<br /><br />I've heard that the IRS is unsure what to do about this increasing movement towards freecycling and the related practice of time/skill bartering. In theory, there should be tax implications to all this, but how could they ever police it? That kind of tickles me too.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-74355790145137954352009-08-26T08:45:00.000-07:002009-08-26T12:40:17.373-07:00The need for FreedomNo, this post probably isn't about what you think.<br /><br />When we got back from our vacation, I was all ready to tear into my various jobs with all the laser-like focus and high-charged enthusiasm of one who had been recharging for a month. Alas, as I have amply documented here, various life dramas arose which, while all completely manageable, turned my life into a herky-jerky existence in which I was constantly erasing things from my calendar and replacing them with "vet" or "contractor" or "take VW in AGAIN." I just could not get into a groove.<br /><br />Yesterday, at the part-time job that <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2007/01/to-be-anonymous-or-not.html">I never talk about</a> here because I can't find a way to do so with the appropriate degree of discretion, the internet actually went out for two hours. Two whole hours! And you know? I think I got more done in those two hours than I have in the whole two weeks that we've been home.<br /><br />So maybe my heavily interrupted life cannot be entirely blamed for my lack of productivity. Perhaps, just perhaps, I am also my own biggest interrupter, too easily lured by the distractions of the internet. Sure, I've turned off those instantaneous email alerts. But still. Especially now that I have recently and reluctantly joined my friends in Facebook. And for the job-that-shall-not-be-named, I think I may have to break down and learn about this whole Twitter thing. Dangerous interruption territory.<br /><br />So at least at home, I think I need to resort to a little program that I downloaded several months ago, when I was trying to put in some focused effort on my book project and discovered that Writing is Hard. <a href="http://macfreedom.com/">Freedom</a> for Mac allows you to disable Internet access for a set a period of time. Once you activate Freedom, and tell it how many minutes of Freedom you would like, the only way to get the Internet back is to reboot your computer. Which is doable, of course, but is enough of a barrier to pretty much eliminate the urge to cheat. Once Freedom is activated, it does not even allow you to open Freedom again until your Freedom time is up.<br /><br />Sad, I know, that intelligent and hardworking people should have to resort to this kind of externally imposed willpower. It's easy to find numerous testimonials professing that Freedom has saved someone's personal, professional or creative lives. "To say that it's changed my life is an understatement!" "I would never have finished my [book, album, article for prestigious publication] without Freedom."<br /><br />Much as I love it, this is what the Internet has done to us. We've had to invent our own Internet Mom who can force us to <span style="font-style: italic;">turn that damn thing off and finish your homework</span>.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-41220158807413052712009-08-24T08:48:00.000-07:002009-08-24T08:51:18.031-07:00My latest mantraA quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, courtesy of a recent guest preacher at church. It's taped to my bathroom mirror because man, I really need to read it every evening and morning.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."</span><br /><br />If anyone knows the specific source of this quote, I'd love to know it.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-65174900940520218292009-08-21T11:44:00.001-07:002009-08-21T15:28:08.197-07:00Stupid parasitesNelly's gut is rife with a parasite that doesn't normally affect healthy adult dogs. So no, the vet said, we shouldn't have to worry about Toby getting sick too.<br /><br />Ha! Within four hours, that assessment was proven oh so wrong. We spent all night letting Toby out. He was one uncomfortable puppy.<br /><br />So after a second trip to the vet, our kitchen resembles a pharmacy:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/So7tV-oednI/AAAAAAAAAX0/Dbrsd3x4sCs/s1600-h/HPIM0816.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/So7tV-oednI/AAAAAAAAAX0/Dbrsd3x4sCs/s200/HPIM0816.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372492367345383026" border="0" /></a><br />And I am once again home-bound for the day. With neither dog able to go more than 2 hours without a bathroom break, and two dogs...well, you do the math. Until the meds kick in, somebody is always poopin' around here.<br /><br />Unfortunately, this <a href="http://www.petside.com/health/petvet/coccidiosis-canine.php">particular parasite</a> never leaves their system. It's a nasty little single-cell bugger, and if I understand correctly, it gets inside the cells that line the intestines and literally causes them to explode. My poor dogs' intestines are being dynamited from within. It's often present in dogs, but usually only makes them sick if some other illness or stress weakens their system. Their bodies need to learn how to keep it under control on their own, once the meds help fight back this onslaught, and for the rest of their lives, we'll have to pay attention to the health of their digestive flora and immune systems. So in a weird way, it's good news to have Toby sick too, because that indicates an unusually virulent form of the bug, not an undetected immune system problem in Nelly, which would have been more worrisome. Silver linings!<br /><br />We also got a chuckle out of the chart notes from Nelly's ER visit. The emergency vets are awesome, but you can tell they're working fast, and this leads to the occasional unintentional humor in the chart notes:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pertinent History: Nelly presented for evaluation after having diarrhea for the past 2 days. She had multiple episodes of diarrhea in the house today. She traveled to Canada for a month of camping recently. The other dog in the house is not having diarrhea. Nelly is otherwise an apparently healthy cat.</span><br /><br />Who knew! She's been a cat all along. It sure explains a few things.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-40981022285927029032009-08-20T17:49:00.000-07:002009-08-20T18:55:29.174-07:00Sometimes, three is NOT a magic numberToday I got home from work to find that Nelly had <span style="font-style: italic;">[warning: discomfiting material] </span>splattered the house with explosive diarrhea. We know it was Nelly because she'd had some symptoms yesterday. This morning I left the house with a nagging feeling that she might be sicker than we thought, but I just couldn't bring myself to up-end yet another day of work for a personal emergency. There was the whole <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-do-normal-people-manage.html">water heater thing</a>. I was scheduled to take Eva in for service today (an amusing anecdote on THAT follows), after blowing off the garage twice at the last minute already: once because I had to drain my leaking water heater, and then a few days later when I just completely spaced it. I couldn't face making a last-minute cancellation call to them AGAIN, because I hate looking like a ditz. I know, pride goeth before a fall (or in this case, before a house full of poo).<br /><br />Anyhoo, that turned out to be a poor choice.<br /><br />So Enrico has bundled her off to the emergency vet, which is clear across town, and most likely a three-hour excursion, minimum. He immediately volunteered to do it, because by the time he got home I had, as he put it, done the worst task (namely, the cleaning of poo - our hardwoods will never be the same). So it seemed only fair. And I have to say, karmically speaking, he kind of owes me on this one, after <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2006/05/sad-dog-sad.html">that one time</a> that I had to take Nelly to the emergency vet in the dead of night while he was out of town, oh, and, let's not forget <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2007/05/where-to-begin.html">THAT OTHER time</a> when I again had to take BOTH dogs to the emergency vet while he was out of town, on the same day our car broke down and the house across the street burned in a massive middle-of-the-night conflagration. You see the trend here?<br /><br />The other trend? Is the whole trouble-comes-in-threes thing. There was the aforementioned veterinary emergency/car trouble/arson day. And then <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2008/02/where-to-begin-or-finding-grace-in.html">a couple years ago</a> there was the broken finger/car accident/house burglary combo. So my question is: Does the water heater/van repair/veterinary emergency count as three? Because the van repair wasn't really an emergency, it was pretty much expected. The price tag was much higher than anticipated, so <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span> that counts; but it's not entirely clear, and now I'm on edge, waiting for the third shoe to drop.<br /><br />I'm sure Nelly is fine, by the way, in case you are fretting about her. She probably has giardia or something. Dogs eat stupid shit; sometimes they get sick. It's only a big deal because they are (relatively) small and dehydrate quickly. I'm just glad it didn't happen while we were on the road.<br /><br />Speaking of which (I know, this is too long and rather rambling, and I should probably break this out into two separate entries, or perhaps just shut up, but such is my state of mind at the moment), I did indeed take Eva in for a check-up today. As expected, she needed an oil change, air filters (engine and internal) and replacement of pretty much all her fluids. That wasn't a surprise, though just as everyone has warned us, it's crazy expensive to do <span style="font-style: italic;">anything</span> to a Volkswagen. The special fairy-dust VW transmission fluid? Literally costs seven times as much as any other kind of transmission fluid. And they have to do this whole elaborate thing to change it. So it costs $350 fracking dollars. But since the transmission is kinda important, and we know it's a weak spot on this model, we gritted our teeth and told them to go ahead and do the work.<br /><br />An hour later, the shop called me back.<br /><br />"We just got your van up on the lift," he said, "and the underside is completely caked with, like, an inch of mud. The wheel wells, struts, underside, everything. Totally coated."<br /><br />"That doesn't surprise me at all," I said calmly. "Like I explained, we spent a lot of time on gravel roads."<br /><br />"Seriously, it's totally encased in mud. I'm surprised you didn't have any alignment problems. Where exactly did you <span style="font-style: italic;">go</span>, anyway?"<br /><br />I explained where we went. He thought that sounded cool. He expounded a bit more on the unbelievable extent of the mud.<br /><br />"So, can you clean it off?"<br /><br />"Well, yeah, we have a power washer that can do the job. But we think it's going to take about an hour, so we're going to have to charge you for labor."<br /><br />"That's fine, I understand."<br /><br />This was followed by a bit more of [<span style="font-style: italic;">Dude! the mud, THE MUD!</span>], and when I hung up the phone, I cracked up. I envisioned every single mechanic in the shop - and this was a large place, not the two-man hole-in-the-wall we took it to before; <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2009/06/introducing-sparky-eva.html">Volkswagon Guru Man</a> was on vacation - anyway, I envisioned every guy in the shop standing underneath the lift, gazing up in awe at Eva's belly. <span style="font-style: italic;">You ever seen that much mud? Not me. No way, me neither. Man, that's the most mud I have frickin' EVER seen underneath a car.</span><br /><br />When I picked her her, I asked if this impression was correct, that this was indeed The Muddiest Vehicle they had collectively ever seen. The guy chuckled, and didn't really answer. But then he leaned forward conspiratorially, and said in hushed tones, "You ought to see the guy who did the work. He is <span style="font-style: italic;">filthy</span>."<br /><br />So I guess I made up for the fact that I blew them off twice, by providing them with a tale that they can relate for years to their spellbound children and grandchildren. <span style="font-style: italic;">The mud, THE MUD!</span>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-23836329106519736302009-08-19T07:54:00.000-07:002009-08-19T08:39:28.004-07:00What I want to hear from the presidentToday I'm supposed to be on a "conference call" on health care reform with the President - and tens of thousands of other people. I have opinions on many of the details of health care reform, of course, having worked in that field for many years. The current state of the debate makes me inexpressibly depressed. But here's what I yearn to hear.<br /><br />"More than sixty years ago, Americans decided that people have the right, after 50 years of labor, to lay down our work; and to do so with dignity and some measure of security. In making that commitment to ourselves and each other, we lessened the human suffering and nagging fears that haunted our forebears: the fear of ending our days in destitution; the prospect of unending labor beyond the time when bodies can endure it; the economic need for women to bear as many children as possible to ensure caretakers during old age.<br /><br />"And thus, we created the concept of retirement. Certainly the systems we established along with it are not perfect; they must be adapted as times change, and are on shaky ground right now, requiring our attention. Moreover the promise of retirement does not absolve us from the duty to contribute our own part to that security, to save and plan and take responsibility for our circumstances. But the underlying promise, that of the right to lay down one's burden in old age with dignity and peace of mind, is now enshrined in our culture, and we are better for it.<br /><br />"We have before us the opportunity to make a similar leap, a collective covenant of equally momentous import. We can create a life for our children and grandchildren that is free of many of the fears that haunt us: fear that our illnesses and injuries will go untreated; knowledge that we live ever on the edge disaster, should our health coverage disappear due to unemployment, illness, divorce, widowhood; dread of the next unexpected jump in our health care premiums, and the associated painful financial choices; terror that we will be bankrupted and become a burden to our families simply because we got sick.<br /><br />"We have the opportunity to create the concept of health care as a right - not without our own responsibilities and duties, to share the cost, to care for our bodies, to plan for our future and take responsibility for our circumstances. But a right nonetheless, and one enjoyed already by people around the world. We can walk away from the fear and instead embrace the idea that people should be cared for when they require it, with dignity and some measure of security. We, and the generations that follow us, will be better for it."<br /><br />Why isn't this what the debate is about?Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-53291895691007306162009-08-17T15:13:00.001-07:002009-08-17T18:40:18.339-07:00Rejoice!...for the subfloor does not need replacing. So says the contractor, who's a former roommate of a friend, so I have a high degree of trust in his assessment, especially since it means no business for him. "You really don't want to open that up," he said, "because the minute you do, dollar bills will start flying out." Hehe. He did recommend some ways to reinforce it before we lay new flooring, because three whole layers of the plywood came up in that nasty hot-water stew that was brewing down there.<br /><br />And...admire! Our tankless heater is in. It is SO COOL. Here it is, with dogs included for scale.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonY8gHy8_I/AAAAAAAAAXU/KEN6J_YuA8U/s1600-h/HPIM0800.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonY8gHy8_I/AAAAAAAAAXU/KEN6J_YuA8U/s200/HPIM0800.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371062564542411762" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonYIIB4AkI/AAAAAAAAAXE/bBH_ahkE1Ek/s1600-h/HPIM0796.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonYIIB4AkI/AAAAAAAAAXE/bBH_ahkE1Ek/s320/HPIM0796.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371061664721928770" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonYj_57iWI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ey9qHiCqPpk/s1600-h/HPIM0799.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonYj_57iWI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ey9qHiCqPpk/s320/HPIM0799.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371062143577459042" border="0" /></a>The heater, as you can see, sits outside, where it can produce constant hot water, though not <span style="font-style: italic;">instant</span> hot water since it has to travel from the heater to the various plumbing fixtures. They were very particular about explaining that to me, since apparently many people confuse "continuous" with "instantaneous," and are disappointed to learn the difference. The water is heated by gas, though like our furnace it requires an electric switch, so it can't make hot water during an electrical outage. In this sense there's a drawback relative to the tank model, which still holds a certain amount of hot water even with the electricity out. However, apparently you can run this thing for a limited time off a large battery, like the backup power supplies for computers. So if we really wanted to prepare for disaster - we could buy one of those. Along with a year of freeze-dried meals, and enough ammo to fend off the zombie army.<br /><br />Inside the house is a little control panel and thermostat:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonbiIBuLBI/AAAAAAAAAXs/wWEc-rkA3MI/s1600-h/HPIM0805.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonbiIBuLBI/AAAAAAAAAXs/wWEc-rkA3MI/s200/HPIM0805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371065409932766226" border="0" /></a><br />And, here is the scariness that is The Place Formerly Known as the Water Heater. Eventually, this will be a lovely and handy storage area. Right now, it's a freak show. The three holes in the floor probably saved our bacon, because they allowed much of the leaking water to drain into the crawl space. Right now, they are an inviting portal for the rat army, which frankly concerns me much more than the zombies. Hopefully it will dry out by the weekend so we can close it up.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonZeDEbuCI/AAAAAAAAAXc/EV-VBd0f0fM/s1600-h/HPIM0801.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SonZeDEbuCI/AAAAAAAAAXc/EV-VBd0f0fM/s320/HPIM0801.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371063140859230242" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-86449303627563694262009-08-14T08:20:00.000-07:002009-08-14T08:36:58.944-07:00The home repair roller-coasterReady or not, we are entering one of those phases of home repair/improvement. Which seems like the vibe of the times; several people we know have been preparing to sell their homes, and doing zillions of projects.<br /><br />The water heater leak may require repair to the subflooring. The tankless water heater means we've freed up space in the kitchen which, once it's dried out and repaired, can become much-needed storage space. Plus we'll pull up the adjoining washer and dryer, and check/repair/replace that flooring as well. (I finally have a reason to install some <a href="http://www.forboflooringna.com/Default.aspx?MenuId=16">marmoleum</a>!)<br /><br />So this will be the impetus to do the myriad other cosmetic fixes in the kitchen that have been waiting for critical motivational mass: Patch the drywall above the dishwasher from the re-plumb job (5 years ago), touch up the drywall and paint the trim from the window/door replacement (2 years ago), and repaint the whole damn thing.<br /><br />I will just say, what lurked beneath the leaking water heater was the most disgusting thing I've seen in my years as a homeowner. It wasn't anything interesting; just 60 years of linoleum and plywood, stewed into a gelatinous, reeking oodge by the hot water. Even after I'd cleaned it up yesterday, I felt so dirty that I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house. We hadn't yet put away all the stuff from the big trip, and then the heater episode caused more items to be displaced, so the house was just cluttered with crap, from end to end. If things get too cluttered I simply cease to function properly until it's brought under some kind of control. Cousin Flora likes things tidy.<br /><br />Meanwhile, the arson house property across the street is looking quite tidy! They've cleared it, leveled it, and have dug holes for the new foundations. I'm very curious to see what these houses will look like.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-9340255148764482782009-08-13T11:56:00.001-07:002009-08-13T12:07:58.930-07:00How do normal people manage?I am largely self-employed, and work out of our home three days per week. So when things happen, like the hot water heater leaks and needs to be replaced, I usually take care of it. I call contractors, meet contractors to get estimates, arrange to be at home while work is being done. I spend two hours draining the hot water tank because holy crap, water is bubbling up through the hardwood floor in the next room, so apparently this can't really wait a few days after all. That sort of thing.<br /><br />And every time this happens, I think - What do families do when all the adults work outside the home? How do you take care of these kinds of things without a household member who can spend the day at home on no notice, ripping up four layers of soggy linoleum and writing breathtakingly large checks to contractors? Or taking the pet to the vet, or the car to the mechanic, or whatever? It's a marvel to me, really.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-35135149383120215082009-08-12T07:42:00.001-07:002009-08-12T07:56:58.179-07:00Woke up this morning......and heard the sweet, sweet sound of bulldozing. The <a href="http://cousinflora.blogspot.com/2007/05/where-to-begin.html">arson house across the street</a> is being torn down.<br /><br />The demolition guy told me it will be down in an hour, and completely gone by end of day. Then they'll start pouring foundations for the new houses.<br /><br />Ironically, I have two contractors coming to bid on the water heater job later today, and since our house is slightly quirky to find, I gave them both the same advice - "We're right across from a burned-out arson hulk. You can't miss it."<br /><br />Ah well. After two years and three months, I will not miss it AT ALL.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SoLWpyqZKDI/AAAAAAAAAW8/ODcpn93V6a8/s1600-h/Photo_052307_004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SoLWpyqZKDI/AAAAAAAAAW8/ODcpn93V6a8/s200/Photo_052307_004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369089719241615410" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-35159652530689572142009-08-11T07:25:00.001-07:002009-08-11T07:33:48.305-07:00Back to work and lifeYesterday we went back to work. So far, so good. It appears we still know how.<br /><br />Meanwhile our hot water heater seems to have sprung a small leak, so I'm back in the deep end of the pool of life - dealing with contractors. Oh, we could just run to the hardware store and buy another tank, and it would be cheaper and quicker; but I'd like to take the opportunity to go tankless. That takes a bit more work. It's eligible for an energy efficiency tax credit, though, so at last we may be able to take advantage of the stimulus!<br /><br />I can tie myself up in knots trying to understand the environmental angle on this one. Switching to tankless probably means switching from (our current) electric to gas; so because our electricity is produced "clean" out here in terms of CO2, we would be increasing our carbon emissions rather than decreasing them, which seems bad. But we'd be using a lot less energy overall, since water tanks spend a lot of energy heating the water while it's just sitting around. And Enrico makes compelling though slightly confusing (to me) arguments that in the big scheme of things, we'd still be helping by switching to the tankless, even if it's burning gas.<br /><br />So we'll see what I learn. Last of the estimates come tomorrow.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-22695553158308107892009-08-07T10:11:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:30:17.838-07:00Photo themesYes, we are home! Some end-of-trip reflections may follow...But for now, between unpacking, we've been labeling photos while we still remember what they all are (a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cousinflora/sets/72157621355518979/">pretty complete album</a> is now up on Flickr). I've noticed a couple of themes. For example, Enrico has become quite the accomplished wildflower photographer:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxhcb0MKGI/AAAAAAAAAUg/0zKWPrQvhMk/s1600-h/653+cinquefoil+GOOD.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxhcb0MKGI/AAAAAAAAAUg/0zKWPrQvhMk/s200/653+cinquefoil+GOOD.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367271997049677922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxiAnQdkbI/AAAAAAAAAUo/RuWxFi4n2nc/s1600-h/679+river+beauty+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxiAnQdkbI/AAAAAAAAAUo/RuWxFi4n2nc/s200/679+river+beauty+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367272618596340146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxjXRRqmVI/AAAAAAAAAU4/24AXPjJ4TSA/s1600-h/701+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxjXRRqmVI/AAAAAAAAAU4/24AXPjJ4TSA/s200/701+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367274107344427346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxnLI_JSVI/AAAAAAAAAVg/uRedySAr-fw/s1600-h/702+yellow+columbine+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxnLI_JSVI/AAAAAAAAAVg/uRedySAr-fw/s200/702+yellow+columbine+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367278297007343954" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxi4-Kmo5I/AAAAAAAAAUw/Dk1TIiQxzkk/s1600-h/687+delphenium+GOOD.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxi4-Kmo5I/AAAAAAAAAUw/Dk1TIiQxzkk/s200/687+delphenium+GOOD.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367273586818458514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxg7BXawxI/AAAAAAAAAUY/ymKI_3OsA94/s1600-h/657+Rose+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxg7BXawxI/AAAAAAAAAUY/ymKI_3OsA94/s200/657+Rose+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367271423013995282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxj2JqQ-NI/AAAAAAAAAVA/TcsDz6s0GpI/s1600-h/698+Columbine+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxj2JqQ-NI/AAAAAAAAAVA/TcsDz6s0GpI/s200/698+Columbine+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367274637876066514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxkfNbtAuI/AAAAAAAAAVI/nfqaJ_t2CNw/s1600-h/696+aster+with+butterfly+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxkfNbtAuI/AAAAAAAAAVI/nfqaJ_t2CNw/s200/696+aster+with+butterfly+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367275343263367906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxlpAe8oYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/8kbkdAQs8V4/s1600-h/703+pyrola+BEST.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxlpAe8oYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/8kbkdAQs8V4/s200/703+pyrola+BEST.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367276611097633154" border="0" /></a><br />Or for example, there is the series <span style="font-style: italic;">Toby under a picnic bench</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxo4s4cRsI/AAAAAAAAAVo/1V0_ZJVRXCk/s1600-h/783+Glacier+NP+campsite+Toby.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxo4s4cRsI/AAAAAAAAAVo/1V0_ZJVRXCk/s200/783+Glacier+NP+campsite+Toby.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367280179248645826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxplYpO0DI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UzELmPdgu34/s1600-h/511+Camping+bug+net+QE+TP+Ft+Smith.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxplYpO0DI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UzELmPdgu34/s200/511+Camping+bug+net+QE+TP+Ft+Smith.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367280946910253106" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxp-GJe4lI/AAAAAAAAAV4/iqQOfiB-fmk/s1600-h/645+Grande+Cache+EE+and+dogs.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snxp-GJe4lI/AAAAAAAAAV4/iqQOfiB-fmk/s200/645+Grande+Cache+EE+and+dogs.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367281371441979986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxqjVDs3PI/AAAAAAAAAWA/JsUf-BoGe_Q/s1600-h/764+Icefields+campsite.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxqjVDs3PI/AAAAAAAAAWA/JsUf-BoGe_Q/s200/764+Icefields+campsite.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367282011099421938" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Or <span style="font-style: italic;">Studies in Napping</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxsMd0RHaI/AAAAAAAAAWI/ZcCkUIKUZhY/s1600-h/550+Dogs+sleeping+road+to+YK.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnxsMd0RHaI/AAAAAAAAAWI/ZcCkUIKUZhY/s200/550+Dogs+sleeping+road+to+YK.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367283817336872354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx6M_0ZYVI/AAAAAAAAAWU/BBOIZpOR10o/s1600-h/424+Napping+Banff+day+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx6M_0ZYVI/AAAAAAAAAWU/BBOIZpOR10o/s200/424+Napping+Banff+day+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367299219627008338" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx7OhB2PxI/AAAAAAAAAWc/ObGFLKP1PIo/s1600-h/502+Nap+after+drive+to+Ft+Smith.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx7OhB2PxI/AAAAAAAAAWc/ObGFLKP1PIo/s200/502+Nap+after+drive+to+Ft+Smith.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367300345233293074" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx742BZQdI/AAAAAAAAAWk/FnyAjPBvGrw/s1600-h/784+Glacier+NP+campsite+Nelly.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx742BZQdI/AAAAAAAAAWk/FnyAjPBvGrw/s200/784+Glacier+NP+campsite+Nelly.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367301072423043538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx8p7AhcpI/AAAAAAAAAWs/KrYTfvgXYzE/s1600-h/432+Napping+Banff+Day+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx8p7AhcpI/AAAAAAAAAWs/KrYTfvgXYzE/s200/432+Napping+Banff+Day+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367301915575153298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx92T6o1cI/AAAAAAAAAW0/JV3vnNPQ45c/s1600-h/739+Dogs+sleeping.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snx92T6o1cI/AAAAAAAAAW0/JV3vnNPQ45c/s200/739+Dogs+sleeping.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367303227931416002" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-57614938094972129932009-08-05T18:30:00.001-07:002009-08-12T08:05:41.875-07:00Endings and ironiesIt's ironic that after driving nearly as close to the Arctic Circle as we could by road, we ended our trip in the warmest place in <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> of Canada. It's also ironic that on our last night we found ourselves in circumstances seemingly without lodging; after visiting the most famous national parks on a holiday weekend, only now did we have to consider simply parking in a field for the night. And, having spent weeks visiting the places of my great-great-grandmother Sarah's life, it's ironic that we ended up being pulled, almost against our will, to a place that was never even on our itinerary, but is in fact the place where Sarah died.<br /><br />But once again, I get ahead of myself. I know I posted already since Yellowknife, but now that I have real bandwidth and time, I think I'll revisit some of that territory with some photos while bringing things up to date.<br /><br />We left Yellowknife, and made two ferry crossings, back across the Mackenzie and then across the Liard River. These are not the big, fancy ferries of Washington state, but little and nimble boats that cut across the current and deposit you on unceremoniously on dirt roads where buffalo roam.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno0z7nGOrI/AAAAAAAAAPo/LLk5gDa9qnc/s1600-h/592+Mackenzie+ferry+S+from+YK.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno0z7nGOrI/AAAAAAAAAPo/LLk5gDa9qnc/s320/592+Mackenzie+ferry+S+from+YK.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366659972745018034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno1UStqSSI/AAAAAAAAAPw/zsNkL3qgCho/s1600-h/590+Bison+Mackenzie+ferry.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno1UStqSSI/AAAAAAAAAPw/zsNkL3qgCho/s320/590+Bison+Mackenzie+ferry.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366660528702376226" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno2ABxSb4I/AAAAAAAAAP4/AVPBtbPFZxE/s1600-h/608+Getty+off+Liard+R+ferry.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno2ABxSb4I/AAAAAAAAAP4/AVPBtbPFZxE/s320/608+Getty+off+Liard+R+ferry.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366661280068431746" border="0" /></a><br />En route from Yellowknife to Fort Simpson, we stopped at a beautiful park called Sambaa Deh Falls.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno58Mlrq9I/AAAAAAAAAQY/vbdbPwCmmnA/s1600-h/599+Sambaa+Deh+Falls.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno58Mlrq9I/AAAAAAAAAQY/vbdbPwCmmnA/s320/599+Sambaa+Deh+Falls.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366665612299578322" border="0" /></a><br />Then, at last, we made it to Fort Simpson! Where so much of the family story happened! We sat on the spot where my great-grandmother and great-great-grandparents looked out for many years on the Mackenzie River. The original fort isn't there any more, but the site is marked. Everyone except me took a dip in the river. We also saw the Anglican church, St. David's, which started as a mission at the old trading fort.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno4ueGvveI/AAAAAAAAAQI/uSsqsPrYg0Q/s1600-h/622+Swimming+Mackenzie+River+Ft+Simpson.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno4ueGvveI/AAAAAAAAAQI/uSsqsPrYg0Q/s320/622+Swimming+Mackenzie+River+Ft+Simpson.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366664276971863522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno4E0UOoKI/AAAAAAAAAQA/AgZTB756cTM/s1600-h/618+St+David+Anglican+Church+Ft+Simpson.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno4E0UOoKI/AAAAAAAAAQA/AgZTB756cTM/s320/618+St+David+Anglican+Church+Ft+Simpson.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366663561379487906" border="0" /></a><br />But it turns out that you can't see the Camsell Mountains from the road, and the town of Fort Simpson is small and fine but not very scenic, and the mosquitoes were brutal on the dogs. Fort Simpson is on an island, but one of the channels around the island has been filled in to build a road; this created a big marsh which is a virtual mosquito factory. Even the The Structure couldn't keep them out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno5Np6CIhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/BTb2UfHsVsw/s1600-h/627+The+Structure+Ft+Simpson.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno5Np6CIhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/BTb2UfHsVsw/s320/627+The+Structure+Ft+Simpson.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366664812715713042" border="0" /></a><br />So, we left a little earlier than planned. From there, we went to Fort Liard. Sarah and Julian lived at Liard for several years, and four of their children were born there. On that route we went from the relatively flat but impressively vast forests, to rolling hills with the peaks of the Nahanni Mountains in the distance. On the way, we visited another lovely but bug-filled park called Blackstone.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno6hpCfUII/AAAAAAAAAQg/dUUwR8xuFoc/s1600-h/632+Blackstone+and+Nahanni+Mts+Liard+River.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno6hpCfUII/AAAAAAAAAQg/dUUwR8xuFoc/s320/632+Blackstone+and+Nahanni+Mts+Liard+River.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366666255591755906" border="0" /></a><br />On we went to the BC border. After driving on a really sucky gravel road - and believe me, we covered our share of gravel roads on this trip - we crossed the northern border in to BC. The hills were rolling and beautiful, with mountains in the distance. Check out the pavement!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno_nDtQHRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/IuX4GcsOGrs/s1600-h/636+Mts+northern+BC.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sno_nDtQHRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/IuX4GcsOGrs/s320/636+Mts+northern+BC.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366671846207921426" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually, we got on the Alaska-Yukon highway, and drove to Fort Nelson in BC. My great-great-uncle Philip once wrote about a dogsled trip from Fort Liard to Fort Nelson at Christmas in the 1890s. Our trip was just like that! Only our dogs were passengers rather than beasts of burden. And it was summer instead of winter. And, we weren't living on moose lard.<br /><br />It was a confusing time - we were heading east in order to hook up with the Rocky Mountains, which at that point were actually to our West. We seemed to change time zones several times a day. Just when I got used to hills again, we found ourselves in the absolute flat of Alberta, at a surprisingly wonderful park called Saskatoon Island, where the Trumpeter Swans live.<br /><br />Then we headed back into the Rockies. We'd cut short our time up north by four days, so we figured we'd spend that in the mountains. First we stayed a night in Grande Cache, near the Willmore Wilderness area to the north of Jasper. On our way into Jasper we stopped at a pretty little provincial park, William Spitzer, with a lovely lake.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpAU1QV4BI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Dx4jfkRQay0/s1600-h/HPIM0648.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpAU1QV4BI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Dx4jfkRQay0/s320/HPIM0648.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366672632602550290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpA06rsnwI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/Y1Qj2_2iBck/s1600-h/HPIM0650.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpA06rsnwI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/Y1Qj2_2iBck/s320/HPIM0650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366673183815278338" border="0" /></a><br />Then we spent four nights at a campground right near the town of Jasper, and did several lovely hikes, including Mt. Edith Cavell.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpMQ5T-v3I/AAAAAAAAATg/uUwhxoH8Lns/s1600-h/HPIM0662.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpMQ5T-v3I/AAAAAAAAATg/uUwhxoH8Lns/s320/HPIM0662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366685759111610226" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpM4teXj5I/AAAAAAAAATo/sHSzPoNEupw/s1600-h/HPIM0670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpM4teXj5I/AAAAAAAAATo/sHSzPoNEupw/s320/HPIM0670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366686443128721298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SntzhI0PC7I/AAAAAAAAATw/_2XAH1JcQ4o/s1600-h/660+Valley+of+Five+Lakes+Jasper.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SntzhI0PC7I/AAAAAAAAATw/_2XAH1JcQ4o/s320/660+Valley+of+Five+Lakes+Jasper.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367010394081528754" border="0" /></a><br />Some of the rivers are glacier-fed and therefore silty; others are stream-fed and clear. When the two come together, it makes a great two-toned effect - as seen here where the Athabasca and Maligne join forces. You can see the grey Athabasca further back, flowing with the clear-blue Maligne.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpEAxpikbI/AAAAAAAAARo/qkTImU11o0E/s1600-h/HPIM0716.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpEAxpikbI/AAAAAAAAARo/qkTImU11o0E/s320/HPIM0716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366676686083625394" border="0" /></a><br />The wild flowers were out in force, and Enrico took many fine photos of them. We also saw elk and mountain goats up close and personal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpBUlHYcFI/AAAAAAAAARA/n8o6G0rVDF0/s1600-h/HPIM0702.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpBUlHYcFI/AAAAAAAAARA/n8o6G0rVDF0/s320/HPIM0702.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366673727781630034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpCkqIwVDI/AAAAAAAAARY/BUQo5b-mLg4/s1600-h/HPIM0696.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpCkqIwVDI/AAAAAAAAARY/BUQo5b-mLg4/s320/HPIM0696.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366675103519102002" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt1PsgkslI/AAAAAAAAAUA/eeqH9gFUPKA/s1600-h/698.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt1PsgkslI/AAAAAAAAAUA/eeqH9gFUPKA/s320/698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367012293448348242" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJ35IUgLI/AAAAAAAAATA/5Ss4q77adzg/s1600-h/HPIM0712.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJ35IUgLI/AAAAAAAAATA/5Ss4q77adzg/s320/HPIM0712.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366683130542719154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpKZFSvy7I/AAAAAAAAATI/jAF5V8r_cq8/s1600-h/HPIM0685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpKZFSvy7I/AAAAAAAAATI/jAF5V8r_cq8/s320/HPIM0685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366683700743359410" border="0" /></a><br />Then we started down the Icefields Parkway, the road from Jasper to Lake Louise. That was a great day. We had a beautiful waterfall hike in the morning, and then about halfway down the road you get to the Columbia Icefields. This is a massive sheet of ice that sits in a big bowl between high peaks; and it feeds multiple glaciers, sliding their toes down the mountains. Hordes of people visit there, and take snow busses onto the ever-retreating Athabasca Glacier. Despite the crowds, it's quite a sight, and we hiked to a high ridge across the valley to get a view of the ice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpEvBMJ1GI/AAAAAAAAARw/VFaKwbMvttk/s1600-h/HPIM0746.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpEvBMJ1GI/AAAAAAAAARw/VFaKwbMvttk/s320/HPIM0746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366677480529319010" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpFY3s6A9I/AAAAAAAAAR4/tgWKR68dcDI/s1600-h/HPIM0756.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpFY3s6A9I/AAAAAAAAAR4/tgWKR68dcDI/s320/HPIM0756.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366678199536845778" border="0" /></a>That night we stayed at a simple but lovely campground, also facing the ice fields from across the<br />valley. The heat broke at last with a night of thunderstorms, and the next morning Eva registered 44 degrees F as we made an early walk without the crowds up to Athabasca glacier, amidst swirling fog. Markers show just how far the glacier has retreated over the years. We stopped at the year I first visited the glacier, as a teenager in 1982, and also the year my dad was born.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpGAczFbJI/AAAAAAAAASA/K66yBUaLdeo/s1600-h/HPIM0765.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpGAczFbJI/AAAAAAAAASA/K66yBUaLdeo/s320/HPIM0765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366678879509769362" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt1zLes4rI/AAAAAAAAAUI/2bkQVMHS394/s1600-h/766+Athabasca+glacier+in+fog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt1zLes4rI/AAAAAAAAAUI/2bkQVMHS394/s320/766+Athabasca+glacier+in+fog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367012903057416882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpGcW5NtCI/AAAAAAAAASI/715yV3NlzHU/s1600-h/HPIM0767.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpGcW5NtCI/AAAAAAAAASI/715yV3NlzHU/s320/HPIM0767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366679358961202210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpG34CmndI/AAAAAAAAASQ/NF5SwXA5qEY/s1600-h/HPIM0768.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpG34CmndI/AAAAAAAAASQ/NF5SwXA5qEY/s320/HPIM0768.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366679831715421650" border="0" /></a><br />It was clear the clouds were here to stay, according to the forecast. So instead of stopping for a couple of days in Yoho National Park, we kept going as far as Glacier National Park, with a stop at some more fabulous waterfalls and lakes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpHtUKuvCI/AAAAAAAAASY/aFHW7qBlBh0/s1600-h/HPIM0770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpHtUKuvCI/AAAAAAAAASY/aFHW7qBlBh0/s320/HPIM0770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366680749798767650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpIC6QBUJI/AAAAAAAAASg/fgHFwOpJbdE/s1600-h/HPIM0779.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpIC6QBUJI/AAAAAAAAASg/fgHFwOpJbdE/s320/HPIM0779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366681120798757010" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt2eGJZI9I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/p79OVvwMiR8/s1600-h/781+Peyto+Lake+Banff.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Snt2eGJZI9I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/p79OVvwMiR8/s320/781+Peyto+Lake+Banff.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367013640360240082" border="0" /></a><br />Glacier, a lesser-known park, is not actually in the Rockies, but in the Columbia Mountains - the source of the Columbia River is there. The peaks are steep, and it rained on and off all evening. Toby took up his new favorite place under the picnic table - "I'm going to have to build him one of those when we get home," Enrico cracked - while Nelly retreated to her cave to sleep off all those alpine hikes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJFkBF_8I/AAAAAAAAASw/oAgEFUgJu2k/s1600-h/HPIM0783.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJFkBF_8I/AAAAAAAAASw/oAgEFUgJu2k/s320/HPIM0783.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366682265881804738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJgXolR2I/AAAAAAAAAS4/3MFJu8p7CSk/s1600-h/HPIM0784.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpJgXolR2I/AAAAAAAAAS4/3MFJu8p7CSk/s320/HPIM0784.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366682726414239586" border="0" /></a><br />From here we decided to head south, through the Okanagan. We've never visited the Okanagan - a dry interior region that continues into Washington as the Okanogan - which is the "fruit basket" and wine-producing region of Canada due to its warmth. A woman at the Glacier campground suggested a place to stay - "But you do realize," she added, "that everything west of here is on fire, right?"<br /><br />We had certainly noticed the smoke, but lacking in news, we hadn't heard about the extent of the fires. We started south through the Okanogan valley, which is actually very Mediterranean in a way. Dry hills, surrounding long blue lakes. Canadians come here from all over in order to get overly hot, and then cool themselves off in the water. Wineries abound. I don't have any good pictures, though, because the whole thing is draped in grey smoke.<br /><br />We made a stop in Penticton, which happens to be where my great-great-grandmother spent her final years, living with her eldest son Ned who did quite well for himself as one of the early orchardists in this area. I spent a little time at the local museum. It's so different here from either Winnipeg or Fort Simpson - I wonder what Sarah must have thought of this place, so warm and dry.<br /><br />Then we drove nearly to the US border to the town of Osoyoos, to the campground run by the Okanagan Band right on a lake. Osoyoos has the highest average temperature in all of Canada. It's basically a resort town - and by the time we got there at 4 in the afternoon, there was not a campsite or hotel room to be had. So we were faced with either heading into the States that night - into the most sparsely populated part of Washington - or just parking Eva somewhere for the night. But we learned there was one pet-friendly room left at a Super 8 back in...Penticton. Fate really wanted me to end the trip where Sarah ended her days. Weird, but there it was.<br /><br />It's a bit anticlimactic. We envisioned one last night sleeping in Eva, on a lovely lake where the dogs could have a good long swim to wash the dust out of their fur. But it's all good. Tomorrow, we head home.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpK82lO8HI/AAAAAAAAATQ/2WRJYBZqgzE/s1600-h/HPIM0739.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SnpK82lO8HI/AAAAAAAAATQ/2WRJYBZqgzE/s320/HPIM0739.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366684315269656690" border="0" /></a>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-91091843425931943542009-08-01T15:28:00.000-07:002009-08-01T15:52:08.612-07:00Back in the RockiesI only have half an hour until the Jasper Public Library closes, so I'm posting a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cousinflora/sets/72157621355518979/">bunch of photos to Flickr</a> and will give a quick update here. (I know - life is so busy!).<br /><br />Let's see, where did I post last? Ah yes, Grande Cache, Alberta, home of the Canadian Death Race. We did a lovely hike there, to the meeting of two big rivers, and the next morning set out early for Jasper National Park. It's a holiday weekend in Canada (and speaking of which, why don't we have a long weekend in August in the US?). So the park is very, very, VERY full. But we secured a decent campground with a little crick running through the back.<br /><br />We're all happy to be back in the mountains. The dogs are happy. Yesterday an elk wandered right by, I mean like five or six feet away. I stood with Nelly, murmuring calming things to her, and her whole body thrummed with a kind of hum, but she didn't bark or growl. She might just have enough sense to know that a 600 pound animal deserves some respect. Toby, on the other hand, yowled and barked and pulled. Those of you who know him know he's more of bark-first-think-later kind of guy. The elk turned her big, dark eyes at us, and went on grazing. We had a similar encounter with mountain goats today.<br /><br />It's very hot here, hitting 30 each day, so keeping the dogs cool is a big part of our routine. We try to get up in the morning and do a 2-3 hour hike early to beat the heat and the crowds. Then we picnic somewhere nice. We run a couple errands in town - which almost always includes ice - and then retreat back to the campsite for a group siesta. In the late afternoon, there is another outing focused on getting the dogs a swim. Jasper park runs along the Athabasca River valley, so there are lots of places to swim. Lots of nice lakes as well. Then it's a leisurely dinner and early bedtime.<br /><br />We're here until Monday, and then we'll wind our way down the Rockies along the Icefields Parkway and through Yoho National Park again; then home by Saturday as planned.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-74364409432855892902009-07-29T16:26:00.000-07:002009-07-29T16:40:08.636-07:00South of the 60th!The wireless signal at our campsite is probably too weak to upload photos, but for now I'll do a quick update, and my guess is there's a stronger signal near the campground office.<br /><br />We are in Grande Cache, Alberta, a tiny town (despite its name) on the northern approach to the Canadian Rockies just off the Alaska-Yukon Highway. It's the only town on a ~300k road between...well, between two places in Alberta. You'll just have to look it up.<br /><br />We cut short our time in the Northwest Territories due to the bugs. We left Yellowknife and spent a night at gorgeous Sambaa Deh Falls territorial park, which boasts two spectacular sets of waterfalls. The bugs there weren't too terribly bad, although there was a new and unwelcome development in the form of these mean black hornets that kept stinging Toby; but The Structure served us pretty well, and we had a nice evening there after a long and dusty drive. Then we went to Fort Simpson. At last! the family homeland. The Mackenzie River is beautiful, we saw the place where the old HBC fort sat, but the mosquitos were unreal.<br /><br />So, having toured the town and taken the requisite photos, the next day we booked out all the way to Fort Nelson, BC. Let's just say that the van has a few more squeaks, and our fillings are a little looser. The last part, from Fort Liard to the BC border - was a <span style="font-style: italic;">crap</span> road.<br /><br />But then we were in BC! Whose motto is <span style="font-style: italic;">Super, Natural British Columbia</span>, but we agreed that at that particular border crossing, they could settle for <span style="font-style: italic;">British Columbia: We have pavement!</span><br /><br />Fort Nelson is the point where the Liard Highway joins the Alaska-Yukon Highway. We stayed at a commercial campground which can only nominally be considered a "camping" experience. One of those places packed cheek-by-jowel with campers, no space or privacy, and this one was kinda dirty to boot. There are people living there temporarily, and people who make RV'ing a lifestyle, and people like us who have no other option. But it was ok - I thought of it as one of the stops on the old Silk Road, or a pilgrimmage route of yore; everyone plodding along this great road has to stop at the same place.<br /><br />From there we did another long day and crossed back into Alberta. Though the southern NWT and northern BC were filled with long, rolling hills and breathtaking vistas, we suddenly found ourselves back on the flat Alberta prairie - and at an absolutely delightful lakeside provincial park, Saskatoon Island, which has nesting trumpeter swans. <br /><br />And today, we did a short drive into the foothills of the Rockies, getting to Grande Cache early enough for a hike and some laundry.<br /><br />It's hot as heck here, though I hear that's true everywhere in the West right now. It's a challenge to keep the dogs cool. But we're doing great. We're so happy to be back in a place where we can just open up the van and breathe the free air, no matter how hot, without having to fortify ourselves constantly against the bugs. We're only spending one night here, though we could spend many more hiking in the wilderness area that borders Jasper to the north; however, this funky little town hosts some kind of running event called the Canadian Death Race (?!?) which starts tomorrow, so there's no room in the inn. On we go to Jasper.<br /><br />And so we'll spend a couple extra days in the Rockies - or maybe visit the Okanagan wine country. We'll see.<br /><br />Photos later, I promise. Enrico sends his regards to all!Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-87540368801028461552009-07-24T20:33:00.000-07:002009-07-24T21:09:05.156-07:00Heading to the land without pavementWe've spent two and a half days in Yellowknife, which reminds me of Alaska mixed with northern California coastal hippie, with both Old West and postmodern industrial chic thrown in. Colorful houses and houseboats, log cabins, modern buildings emphasizing the local minerals and industrial history of the area.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqAW4X7CKI/AAAAAAAAAPI/FYRwMBhxG7M/s1600-h/HPIM0575.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqAW4X7CKI/AAAAAAAAAPI/FYRwMBhxG7M/s320/HPIM0575.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362239436916197538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqAkUc4eyI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/s-_cqw96DYk/s1600-h/HPIM0570.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqAkUc4eyI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/s-_cqw96DYk/s320/HPIM0570.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362239667791493922" border="0" /></a><br />I spent an afternoon in the NWT archives, which had some interesting photos but nothing earth-shattering to add to my research. We mostly took turns exploring the town - one of us running errands while the other stayed with the dogs. It's been too sunny and warm to leave them in the van. Plus for the first time since we got to the far north, the long daylight has started playing with my mind. Five hours of darkness is just not enough for a good night's sleep, making the afternoon siesta that much more important. Yellowknife seems to have a couple of intriguing restaurants, and it's a shame we had to miss them; but that's a tradeoff for traveling with the dogs, who have been excellent and plucky company.<br /><br />Speaking of plucky, Eva finally got her oil change, though her Volkwagen-ness flummoxed the fine gentlemen at Canadian Tire somewhat. They didn't have her air filter in stock; and, even if they had, they couldn't figure out where the hell it would go. That's VW for you, superior German engineering that nobody else can understand.<br /><br />We bought some books, and also invested $65 in something we're calling The Structure: a stand-alone mesh tent-like thing with a nylon top that we can use at our campsite instead of that hanging mesh, which was made to hang over a bed and already showed signs of wear. Besides, it requires appropriately placed trees.<br /><br />All four of us did have a snack at the Wildcat Cafe, one of the oldest buildings in Yellowknife (1937):<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smp_cqpYhyI/AAAAAAAAAO4/29s5GCcEk78/s1600-h/HPIM0574.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smp_cqpYhyI/AAAAAAAAAO4/29s5GCcEk78/s320/HPIM0574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362238436798924578" border="0" /></a><br />And we also had a lovely walk along the lake to the Northwest Territories Legislative Assembly, which is very striking:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smp_2vEh6mI/AAAAAAAAAPA/UlBJFdLMQDM/s1600-h/HPIM0577.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smp_2vEh6mI/AAAAAAAAAPA/UlBJFdLMQDM/s320/HPIM0577.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362238884663126626" border="0" /></a><br />One of the things I love about this town is the languages on the signs. I don't know what half of them are - Slavey, certainly, and probably Inuvialut; Gwitch'in? Chipewyan? Cree? It's not just anywhere in Canada that French is the fifth language on the sign.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqBlIP267I/AAAAAAAAAPY/VHas2tHNCpw/s1600-h/HPIM0569.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqBlIP267I/AAAAAAAAAPY/VHas2tHNCpw/s320/HPIM0569.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362240781207137202" border="0" /></a><br />Tomorrow we shake the Yellowknife dust off our shoes; it will be one of our longest days of driving, covering 300 of the 400 miles to Fort Simpson. We'll go back past the bison and across the Mackenzie River ferry, and shortly after that the road will be gravel for the next week or so - until we cross the border back into British Columbia.<br /><br />Nelly will be happy about this, we think. Every time we leave the hotel, she makes a beeline for Eva. Clearly, we'd be better off sleeping in the van out in the parking lot than in this terrible hotel room with all the space and the carpeting and the air conditioning. Duh.<br /><br />So it'll be a couple of days until we post again. So long Yellowknife - you've been great!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqCYtohyZI/AAAAAAAAAPg/hg8gpc-u42w/s1600-h/HPIM0582.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmqCYtohyZI/AAAAAAAAAPg/hg8gpc-u42w/s320/HPIM0582.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362241667416050066" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Flags of the many First Nations of the NWT line the walkway to the Heritage Center</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Full set of photos on </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cousinflora/sets/72157621355518979/">Flickr</a><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-54023193811220897452009-07-23T09:35:00.001-07:002009-07-23T16:22:37.213-07:00From Yellowknife, Part IIYesterday we did the drive from Lady Evelyn Falls to Yellowknife. I'm getting confused in my mind about miles or kilometers, but I think it was about 200 miles. At first it was the same landscape we'd been in for days: forest, with interspersed marsh. This isn't exactly pretty or dull country, it's just impressive, and wild; an immense expanse of forest, with smallish trees (due to climate I think), mixed evergreens and aspen. We've wondered how people found their way around such a vast expanse of similar-looking terrain. Other than following rivers, there seem to be absolutely no landmarks.<br /><br />Just shy of Fort Providence, we reached the great Mackenzie River at last: The one that collects the waters from all these other rivers, and delivers them to the Arctic. This was the first of several ferry crossings that we'll need to make. In winter, you just drive across the frozen rivers; in summer, it's ferries. As experienced ferry-goers, we were impressed with the skill required to navigate across such strong side current. At this particular spot, they are building a bridge, so the navigational obstacle course also includes the future bridge pilings.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiVG72_I6I/AAAAAAAAAOA/Q6GCTzo3Ttk/s1600-h/HPIM0544.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiVG72_I6I/AAAAAAAAAOA/Q6GCTzo3Ttk/s320/HPIM0544.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361699302764651426" border="0" /></a><br />As soon as you cross the river, you are passing along 50 miles of bison preserve. Right off the ferry was a sizable herd, young calf nestled incongruously beneath stacks of bridge construction materials. The Wood Buffalo visitors' center had stark warnings posted about bison: "Vistors have been gored by bison. When charging, they can run three times faster than you. Do not provoke them. "<br /><br />Having spent time in Yellowstone, the bison experience is not new to Enrico and me; we know that despite their docile appearance from the car, they are not to be messed with. We also know that when the bison decide to cross the road, you wait. If the bison decide to lay down in the road for an hour-long siesta, you park the car and wait for an hour. They are bigger than you. But when this fella took up the face-off position down in the road, Enrico and I each began humming that gunslinger showdown tune. Do-dee-do-dee-dooo....wah-wah-waaaah.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiWXd8RAmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/fhCFemBg3as/s1600-h/HPIM0546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiWXd8RAmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/fhCFemBg3as/s320/HPIM0546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361700686303134306" border="0" /></a>He <span style="font-style: italic;">looked</span> like he was all but pawing the ground and readying the charge, though that almost certainly wasn't true. We put the car in park and waited. A stare-down, however, is one of the brashest statements in canine language, and the dogs were wild. They would have come out through the windshield if they could've. We pondered whether there was any sensible fear in their reaction, or if it was all bad-assed bluster. In any event, the dogs have generally barked and growled at bison, at least if they're moving. We saw lots of them on this stretch of road.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiX_Z0N4NI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/fZKygXqtBko/s1600-h/HPIM0557.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiX_Z0N4NI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/fZKygXqtBko/s320/HPIM0557.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361702471902027986" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As we swung around the north side of Great Slave Lake, the landscape began to change. George commented to us that "most of the country is sitting on one big slab of rock, and the rest of it is just bobbing on water." The big slab of rock, of course, is the great Canadian Sheild, a sheet of hard rock that runs from the Great Lakes to the Arctic, literally covering half of Canada. Here, now we see it popping up in rounded mounds and jagged ledges, pink and burnt brown. I havent' gotten a good shot of it yet in sunlight, but the pink is very striking.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiZtuCCZHI/AAAAAAAAAOY/sn04S7xntt0/s1600-h/HPIM0561.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmiZtuCCZHI/AAAAAAAAAOY/sn04S7xntt0/s320/HPIM0561.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361704367114314866" border="0" /></a><br />There's even a slab of it built into the wall of our hotel. It has been underneath us all this time, but suddenly we see it everywhere. There's also a lot more water. Yellowknife sits on Great Slave, but most of the city center - the Legislative Assembly, museum, city hall - sit on smaller Frame Lake. Walk paths abound in Yellowknife around the many lakes.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Prince of Wales Heritage Center on Frame Lake:</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmicAm0C0vI/AAAAAAAAAOo/oDsg_kym8B4/s1600-h/HPIM0564.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmicAm0C0vI/AAAAAAAAAOo/oDsg_kym8B4/s320/HPIM0564.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361706890617344754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Yellowknife's first schoolhouse:</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smicc-S76UI/AAAAAAAAAOw/VNgiz2zp7r8/s1600-h/HPIM0566.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smicc-S76UI/AAAAAAAAAOw/VNgiz2zp7r8/s320/HPIM0566.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361707377957267778" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But before arriving in Yellowknife, we crossed a bridge at Rae across Frank Channel. My great-great uncle Frank perished here in 1922, with his 2-year-old daughter, when their dogsled broke through the ice. The story goes that he could have been rescued but wouldn't let go of his little girl, and they couldn't pull him out by one arm; and when the RCMP finally retrieved the bodies, they were still locked in that frozen embrace. And so, Frank Channel got its name.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smiagtgh00I/AAAAAAAAAOg/8J6cEg0Sg_o/s1600-h/HPIM0558.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Smiagtgh00I/AAAAAAAAAOg/8J6cEg0Sg_o/s320/HPIM0558.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361705243147096898" border="0" /></a><br />Weather is overcast here, which is good for us as sun makes it impossible to leave the dogs in the van; trees aren't tall enough here for any real shade. Yesterday as I was making the laundry and car-wash run, however, it was hot and sunny, and I snubbed my nose at the bugs and wore shorts and a tank top. Bugs aren't too bad in the city, and it felt so liberating to feel the air and the sun on my skin, to be out of the layers of clothing and mesh that have kept me sweatily bug-protected for days now.<br /><br />Anyway, we're doing some business here; today we are trying to get Eva for her spa treatment (aka oil & lube); we washed a mountain of mud off her yesterday at the car wash. I plan to spend some time at the museum and archives. I have an overwhelming craving for a burger from A&W. Exciting stuff.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-84881148158330081392009-07-22T17:58:00.000-07:002009-08-12T08:16:04.701-07:00Another long update: The bugs, the bugs!We're in Yellowknife, back in a hotel again. Quite the little metropolis, Yellowknife. We've already done laundry and we're treating Eva to a spa treatment - car wash, oil change, tire inflation, the whole deal. She's been a trooper. By the way, my cell phone doesn't work after all. And I've been able to receive but not send email. So if you're trying to reach us - send email, and we'll find a way to get back in touch.<br /><br />Bugs, bison and bears. That about sums it up.<br /><br />Wood Buffalo National Park straddles the Northwest Territories and Alberta, and so we left Hay River for a 170-mile drive, half of which was dirt road, destined for the town of Fort Smith, just shy of Alberta. There are just miles and miles and MILES of forest up here. We saw bison (of course), and an adorable family of black bears (a mama with two young cubs), and a lot of sandhill cranes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme412fN56I/AAAAAAAAANA/Kxh5AREuG0E/s1600-h/HPIM0500.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme412fN56I/AAAAAAAAANA/Kxh5AREuG0E/s320/HPIM0500.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361457116706891682" border="0" /></a><br />The town of Fort Smith is at yet another historically significant river town, a major portage around three impressive and deadly sets of rapids: Pelican Rapids, named for the birds who nest there in huge numbers; Mountain Rapids, named for its steep portage; and Rapids of the Drowned, which is probably self-explanatory.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme3Pn_5LXI/AAAAAAAAAM4/8h6PHBOQpCs/s1600-h/HPIM0506.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme3Pn_5LXI/AAAAAAAAAM4/8h6PHBOQpCs/s320/HPIM0506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361455360470756722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Despite being 170 miles down a dirt road, Fort Smith has 2500 people. It has a nice feel to it, with long riverside walkways, an historic Anglican church, and a modern Catholic cathedral. We stayed at Queen Elizabeth Territorial Park, just outside town. The NWT territorial parks, so far as we can tell, are a wonder. Spacious and open, with tidy blue buildings and showers that are clean, hot – and free! And yet we’ve had them virtually to ourselves so far.<br /><br />This may be partly due to the afore-mentioned Record Year for Bugs. Enormous horse flies, small black flies, and mosquitoes abound. In Hay River I rigged up a set of screens for the van’s side doors, using my McGiver-like skills to redeploy a baby stroller mosquito net, a roll of packing tape, and two small bungies. We have mosquito netting we can hang over the picnic table, with the aid of well-placed trees and a lot of rope.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme7B5V-rjI/AAAAAAAAANQ/Uq4eA1K0vtg/s1600-h/HPIM0511.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme7B5V-rjI/AAAAAAAAANQ/Uq4eA1K0vtg/s320/HPIM0511.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361459522655137330" border="0" /></a><br />However, the first place we really needed to use our mosquito headnets was at Pine Lake, further into the Alberta portion of Wood Buffalo Park. Instantly upon leaving the car, we were covered in mosquitoes. I mean covered, like a sheet of brown on our pants and shirts and the dogs’ fur. The head net kept them mostly off my face, but the buzzing sound was overwhelming. The dogs were hell-bent on a swim in the lake, which they got:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmfeCeZWuAI/AAAAAAAAAN4/GweZvS3wf7Q/s1600-h/HPIM0517.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmfeCeZWuAI/AAAAAAAAAN4/GweZvS3wf7Q/s320/HPIM0517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361498015508379650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But by then I was virtually in a panic attack from the sensation of being SWARMED. It was a darned pretty lake, but we didn't end up spending much time there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme73qvJJAI/AAAAAAAAANY/LxLTi7lqZzo/s1600-h/HPIM0519.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme73qvJJAI/AAAAAAAAANY/LxLTi7lqZzo/s320/HPIM0519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361460446447084546" border="0" /></a><br />In fact, though we’ve seen a lot of sights – beautiful waterfalls, river gorges, salt plains left behind from an inland sea trapped here tens of millions of years ago –<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme-EZwWhJI/AAAAAAAAANo/4-xl35knl2k/s1600-h/HPIM0532.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme-EZwWhJI/AAAAAAAAANo/4-xl35knl2k/s320/HPIM0532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361462864250307730" border="0" /></a><br /><br />it’s often a quick trip in and out of the car. The campgrounds aren’t bad, but many of the sights are near water, which means bugs. Oddly enough, for the sheer volume of mosquitoes, I have relatively few bites. The dogs certainly attract the bugs, but don’t seem overly disturbed by them, although one of Nelly’s eyes has been swollen from bites. Toby likes to climb under the picnic table inside the mesh, but Nelly prefers to lounge outside and breath freely. We have some all-natural spray that we use on them, which seems to help. The weather has been hot, unseasonably hot, which is all the more uncomfortable since we then have to wear long sleeves and pants for the bugs.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme8j1S9H4I/AAAAAAAAANg/UJhLE4cjRV4/s1600-h/HPIM0521.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme8j1S9H4I/AAAAAAAAANg/UJhLE4cjRV4/s320/HPIM0521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361461205195890562" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Often we nap during the peak of afternoon heat and subsequent thunderstorm, which brings welcome cool.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme6aOF8R-I/AAAAAAAAANI/gk5SZOTTFvM/s1600-h/HPIM0502.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme6aOF8R-I/AAAAAAAAANI/gk5SZOTTFvM/s320/HPIM0502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361458841030248418" border="0" /></a><br />So after a couple days in Wood Buffalo, we did the long drive to Yellowknife, with an overnight stop at Lady Evelyn Falls (again, beautiful waterfall, charming campground).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme_LoQRhhI/AAAAAAAAANw/XeRulfhlEcE/s1600-h/HPIM0540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/Sme_LoQRhhI/AAAAAAAAANw/XeRulfhlEcE/s320/HPIM0540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361464087913006610" border="0" /></a><br />The drive to Yellowknife involved a ferry across the Mackenzie River, and one of our longest stretches of town-less road, and a lot more bison. We wondered how the dogs would respond to bison. They view deer and elk as potential prey, but are unfazed by horses after years of sharing hiking trails with them. It turns out - they are very excited at the sight of bison. Very, very excited. But I'll write more about that later. As always - a few more photos <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cousinflora/sets/72157621355518979/">here</a>.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10473786.post-23503666732704214662009-07-18T19:43:00.000-07:002009-07-18T20:17:54.374-07:00Long Canada update: Edmonton to Hay RiverWe're in Hay River, NWT, where the bugs are thick as anything. We've apparently picked a very bad year for bugs, on account of how wet it's been. Tonight we're in a hotel, again. We'll pimp our ride to offer a bit more bug protection, and head to Wood Buffalo National Park tomorrow. But I'm skipping ahead. Long entry follows.<br /><br />Our second day in Edmonton we went with Gwen to historic Fort Edmonton. It’s not the original fort, but a reconstruction, and it’s not even in the original location; but over time the city has moved a variety of historic buildings there, and grouped them by era, so that now there is an amazing amount of Edmonton history at one large park. In addition to the reconstructed fur trade fort, there are “streets” devoted to the years 1885, 1905 and 1920, complete with living history demonstrations and shops stocked with an impressive number of period items. Plus, we had ice cream.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKKWt7PdDI/AAAAAAAAAL4/5CAuO5f7rJE/s1600-h/HPIM0476.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKKWt7PdDI/AAAAAAAAAL4/5CAuO5f7rJE/s320/HPIM0476.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359998629414138930" border="0" /></a><br />We left in the afternoon for the town of Athabasca instead of staying another night in the city; it was a fine hotel, but expensive, and we were ready for the wide open air and our little metal box again. Athabasca, formerly Athabasca Landing, is about 90 miles north of Edmonton at the southern-most point in a southern dip in the Athabasca river. By the 1880s it had become a major jumping-off point for river transit to the Mackenzie and Peace River districts. The old ox cart trail from Edmonton can still be seen in some places, just as wagon ruts from the Oregon trail can still be seen in spots across the US west.<br /><br />The drive up was wide open and flat. At Athabasca, we walked the historic riverfront and ran a few errands. I know that my great-great grandparents and my great-grandmother stood at this spot many times, waiting to board a steamship north.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKLABroEQI/AAAAAAAAAMA/GcRSyUihLi4/s1600-h/HPIM0480.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKLABroEQI/AAAAAAAAAMA/GcRSyUihLi4/s320/HPIM0480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359999339091988738" border="0" /></a><br />We found the two campgrounds full. Undaunted, we drove 20k up the road to a county park – only to find the campground there dreary, and more importantly, lacking any source of portable water. So in the end, we wound up at a hotel after all, in a smoking room since that’s where many hotels allow dogs.<br /><br />We hit the road early the next day and drove to the town of Peace River. This longer route took us along the southern shore of the Lesser Slave Lake (again – nothing to do with Slaves but with the Slavey people). We stopped for a hike and a visit to the Boreal Center for Bird Conservation. Huge, huge numbers of migratory birds spend the summers in the boreal forests of Canada. For some species, 90 percent of all of the birds are in this part of the planet for the summer. The entire coast of Lesser Slave wake is throbbing with the sight and sound of birds.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKMtloZTVI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/GD-Kac0svQM/s1600-h/HPIM0482.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKMtloZTVI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/GD-Kac0svQM/s320/HPIM0482.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360001221347855698" border="0" /></a><br />This area was still surprisingly full of people; it’s a big recreational area. Nonetheless we began increasingly to have a sense of being up here. Way north, and we’re nowhere near as north as we aim to go. Amazingly, after leaving the Slave Lake area the landscape turned once again to farms. We’re at, like, the latitude of Finland. Who are these people, farming up here? For miles and miles, there are yellow fields of canola as far as the eye can see. Along with the occasional oil derrick.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKNQkh7oLI/AAAAAAAAAMY/D1aEpAHMGqg/s1600-h/HPIM0484.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKNQkh7oLI/AAAAAAAAAMY/D1aEpAHMGqg/s320/HPIM0484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360001822347731122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We got early to the town of Peace River, chastened by our experience in Athabasca and determined to get a camp site. The campground, run by the local Lions Club, is one of those quirky private campgrounds with lots of character. It was busy, but we had a nice spot at the edge with a view of the woods and the river. Many people at the campgrounds and hotels seem to be work crews, driving imposing, mud-splattered trucks and SUVs with mysterious mechanical equipment in back.<br /><br />The Peace River is another giant of the Canadian river system, running from the Rockies eastward. The descent into the town of Peace River is a stunning surprise, dropping down from those endless yellow canola fields in a wide and lush series of hills to the wide river below. It was hot – really hot – so we had a lazy afternoon, walking the riverfront trail a bit and stocking up on provisions.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKL6mCNiZI/AAAAAAAAAMI/zVE0TzOfonw/s1600-h/HPIM0488.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKL6mCNiZI/AAAAAAAAAMI/zVE0TzOfonw/s320/HPIM0488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360000345282808210" border="0" /></a><br />At night the hot weather turned into a crashing thunder storm, lights flashing and rain hammering on our little metal box. Morning found us socked in by fog, which dissipated as soon as we climbed out of the river valley. Then we did this for 300 miles:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKN19O5v8I/AAAAAAAAAMg/8ExDOPRF3B4/s1600-h/HPIM0490.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKN19O5v8I/AAAAAAAAAMg/8ExDOPRF3B4/s320/HPIM0490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360002464633962434" border="0" /></a><br />Rolling landscape with no real landmarks, and mixed forest of coniferous trees and aspen and poplar, with increasing marshland. Gradually the farms became less frequent - small farms carved out of the forest rather than clumps of forest carved out of the farms. Enrico said that it reminded him of Maine. (Except, he said dryly, that you could drop the whole state of Maine up here, and never find it again.) Along the way were French Metis communities with charming names, and first nation lands with a familiar air of economic hardship.<br /><br />Then, there were no more farms, and at last we crossed the 60th parallel! We visited beautiful Louise Falls, where we tried to camp, but long story short we ended up in the town of Hay River, setting foot at last on the enormous Great Slave Lake.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKOcU0kb9I/AAAAAAAAAMo/Hfrno81DApc/s1600-h/HPIM0493.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKOcU0kb9I/AAAAAAAAAMo/Hfrno81DApc/s320/HPIM0493.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360003123800993746" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKO92G5X1I/AAAAAAAAAMw/4MuqHnqiFHk/s1600-h/HPIM0498.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aAf5DqwQLo/SmKO92G5X1I/AAAAAAAAAMw/4MuqHnqiFHk/s320/HPIM0498.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360003699671916370" border="0" /></a><br />It's hard to describe this place. The closest we've seen are the remote towns of Alaska, lots of untamed nature mixed with rusting junk just left where it is. And swarms of enormous black flies. The person at the visitor's center told us to buy extra wiper fluid, because the flies are so thick at Fort Providence that we'll likely use up all our fluid just wiping them off the windshield. I am not making that up.<br /><br />It's good to see all these places. We're hoping for dry weather tomorrow as we head out to Wood Buffalo Park.Cousin Florahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17955368078480763673noreply@blogger.com0