From Shuswap Lake April 6th 2010

April 6th Shuswap Lake (N50 48.775 W119 05.019)

My apologies for burdening you with an excessively long and slightly tedious e-mail but this one pretty well wraps up the winter of 2010 for me and will be all you get for several months.
I returned to the cabin on March 30th, having travelled, on and off, for 8 days from Southern Arizona. The last group-e-mail was dated March 19th from Plomosa Road, near Bouse, so I’ll pick up the thread there.

That same day, I went to Parker (35 minutes) to see if there was anything that I could do with the bike. Gears had been slipping and the chain had developed the annoying and dangerous habit of jumping out of the middle-front sprocket assembly any time I stood on the pedals doing my Lance Armstrong simulation. The owner/mechanic at Rabbit cycle laughed when he took a look at my gears, saying they were as worn as any he had ever seen and needed replacement. However, spending upwards of $200 on the bike may not be realistic since, once one component gets changed, others will follow. His recommendation was to ride it into the ground if I didn’t want to buy a bike right away. Actually he had a dual-suspension, disc-braked bike in the shop at a reduced price for about $500 but I stood firm and will see what, if anything, crops up during the summer.

At one point I had neighbours up the Plomosa 10.5/.81 trail about 500 meters away. Bob and Joy were from Ontario but full-timed in their trailer. He was interested in solar, and came over to ask for a few handy hints (maybe more than a few) on the topic. Having trouble keeping his batteries charged with only an hour or so of generator input every day – not surprising, he was impressed that my batteries were always charged! He had bought one of the cheap, Chinese “Champion” generators (4500 Kw) for about $300 but it made a huge racket and definitely qualified him as a desert “pariah”. When I left Plomosa on March 22nd, Bob was off to Quartzsite to check on solar prices. With luck, he and his wife will acquire some panels and rid themselves of the “generator” stigma
From Plomosa, I travelled up for a quick peek at the Boulder City Bootleg Canyon bike trail system, just outside Las Vegas. To access the biking area (N35 58.865 W114 51.615), follow signs in BC. The road up is OK for towing a trailer but the parking lots are small and on an angle. On arrival, there were quite a number of bikers of one description or another, camped out in tents. Since all were dressed in body armour, I could see the level of biking that was available and, looking up the mountain, one could see single track trails with wooden and earth jumps, ramps etc. Also there were several zip-lines coming from the top of the mountain, and a group of “zippers” walking down with their zipping equipment (slings and pulleys). In general, the area was unattractive to me because the biking seemed designed for high technical levels of skill and would certainly be over my head. Possibly, there were easier trails in the vicinity. If so, I didn’t see them.
Next, it was off through Vegas to join highway # 95, my route north. That night, I stopped in a fairly large flat gravel area at Scotty’s Junction (N37 17.923 W117 03.246), one of the several access points to Death Valley. As roadside camps go, this was quite good, since I could get well enough away from the highway and its noise. I could have carried on except for the critical requirement to have the satellite dish set up in time for the first “Dancing with the Stars” program of the season (as well as “24”).
There were strong north winds all night and the next day, so the trip up to Hawthorne was done at slow speeds. Unless I can keep the truck in overdrive, I tend to slow the pace (mainly to save fuel) and drive at about 50 or 55 miles per hour max. With the wind and a gradual climb from 2500’ to over 6000’ at both Goldfield and Tonopah, it was a very sedate pace. Looking at my topo map, both these towns are riddled with old mines and, particularly in the case of Goldfield, plenty of evidence of a much busier past than today’s ghost-town appearance would suggest. Tonopah is a bit more active but still, many businesses are shuttered and closed. Hawthorne, further north, for reasons that may be related to the nearby military bases, gives one an impression of slightly higher prosperity (at least it has several gas stations, a casino and a new Safeway beside the Shell station at the north end of town).
I decided to give the El Capitan Casino and its free RV parking a miss to land at Walker Lake where I have camped in previous years. Tamarack Beach (N38 44.374 W118 45.975) has an old abandoned RV Park (narrow, paved sites) with pit toilet and signs off the highway that give both a ¼ mile alert and indication of the actual turn-off just before the beginning of a guard rail. Here, I opted to spend a couple of days since, owing to the Boulder City exclusion, I was ahead of schedule. At 4300’, Walker Lake is still quite cool at nights but days were fine (65°/39°). On my “day-off”, I went for a hike into a deep canyon above the camp area.
Two days later, when I arrived at the Klamath Falls fairgrounds (N42 12.574 W121 44.648), it was past closing time at the office, so I just found a spot in their back lot alongside some horse barns on grass and gravel. This is used as a campground when they have events (rodeos etc), so there are hook-ups for power and water. Not being sure about use of those without permission, I stayed “dry”, got about 10 channels on the first successful run of the new TV converter box, walked two blocks to the King Wah Chinese restaurant and watched TV trash for an hour or two back at the trailer. In the morning, I checked in at the office to thank them and pay something if required. They told me no charge for dry camping but $15 if I wanted to connect to power and water. They seemed fine with people camping there and asked, if possible, that one phone ahead to advise the security guy. I never did see anyone whom I recognized as a security person but good to know that I can quote the General Manager’s name on a future occasion. My trip to the King Wah resulted in one of the few occasions in my entire life when I didn’t finish a plate of food - it was massive, so I guess the Klamath dogs (next week’s # 3 combination dinner?) got to eat my left-over rice and veggies. Klamath weather was miserable with rain and wind – I had to crank up my heater for the first time in months.
March 26th, I drove the ¾ hour north to the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino at the junction of Hwys 97 and 62, the road to Crater Lake. Since it was still early and skies not too threatening, I unhitched, left the trailer at the casino and drove the 40 miles up to Crater Lake. All of a sudden, along the road, one goes from grassy fields to 2’ snow banks in the space of a few hundred yards, increasing to 18 or 20’ snowbanks by the time one arrives at the Visitor Centre higher up. Drifts there, and against the shuttered hotel at the crater’s rim were up to the third storey windows (30’?). In addition, a blizzard was blowing, so visibility, even between the high banks of the road, was very flat. This area is a National Park, has spectacular views into the cauldron when one can see them, and receives the highest annual snowfall in the USA - average 45’ (540” or 1371.6 cms), maximum 75’ (2286 cms). This is no place to go in an RV – in fact, anything but a 4 X 4 vehicle, would be foolish as the road plows, while out, barely keep up with the volumes coming down. My truck was up to the task but things were a little slick, even in four wheel drive. Up at the top, I saw that they had one of several giant snow blowers in action at the parking lot. This machine was a huge loader, wheels all chained, with a rotary blower on the front. Apparently, it is capable of throwing snow 75’ in the air, an accomplishment that creates huge, vertical snow banks alongside roads and parking areas. This was quite a change of scene from the Arizona desert where temps were approaching 90° at the time of departure and all plant life was looking forward to the coming of some really hot weather ahead.
This was my second unsuccessful attempt to view Crater Lake over the last 5 years. According to the lone female running the cafeteria at the top, there rarely is a view since it is always snowing and blowing. Anyway, the sight of all that snow was heart-warming for an ex-Lake Louiser and made the diversion worthwhile.
Meanwhile, back at the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino, it was still only noon by the time that I returned from the unviewable Crater Lake, so I decided not to wait for the “fabulous” Friday night seafood buffet, hitched up and drove north up Highway 97. Along the way, one passes through Bend and then up over some high prairie before dropping 2000’ or more into the Columbia River Basin at Biggs. At the top of the escarpment is a wind farm with an amazing number of wind generators stretching out of sight into the distance. Anyone espousing the cause of wind as an alternative source of energy would want to take a look at one of these. One windmill is quaint if your name is Don Q, but hundreds of them are a blight. Despite this, one has to favour the science, since it is completely renewable – I just wish it would blow from behind when I am towing my trailer on these long trips.
I had missed a fuel stop along the way and, reckoning that I could make it to Biggs (on the river), kept on trucking. At one point my fuel gauge went down to ¼ but then rose to ½, a phenomenon that was explained to me by the teen-age attendant at the Fuel-Stop as “frothing diesel”. All I know is that I put 29.5 gallons into a tank that I thought held only 30 gallons and was quite relieved to have done so, given the uncertain driving force associated with “froth”. I guess that it is possible that my truck has a larger tank – something to check in my next free moment.
Maryhill State Park (N45 40.985 W120 49.573) is across the Columbia from Biggs, OR and is quite attractive, being grassy, full of oak and “el garrofer” trees, plus being on the river. This is a place where windsurfers come to enjoy the “Columbia River Gorge”. Winds generally blow from the sea (west) in summer months, from the east in winter and one can sail south and north across the river, always on a downwind quarter beam reach but rarely having to point up into the wind as the current drifts one downstream at the same time (hope that’s right – no doubt, I will hear from someone re: the nautical accuracy of such a designation as well as the literary appropriateness of using all one’s sailing words in a single sentence). State Parks are becoming quite expensive ($27 at this one) and, while I generally shun any camp area where I have to pay, the time was about 6.30 pm and the next stretch of road, to my knowledge, had no handy campsites. Therefore I stopped over, swallowed any lingering boondocker pride and plugged in – even worse, by the time that I wrote up this log the following morning and did a little walking tour of the perimeter, etc., it was closing in on check out time, so I raided the bicycle pack emergency fund for correct change, and booked in for a second night. I guess if there was anywhere nice enough to spend two nights, this was it. I had a 30 amp hot shower to celebrate the decision. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no wi-fi and even my expensive Telus “stick” wouldn’t connect.
One interesting thing about the Maryhill area is that it was, once, a site occupied for considerable time by the Lewis and Clark expeditions(1805/06). Homesteading by white settlers, damming of the river and dislocation of Indian peoples followed, with the result that later treaties were drawn up to deal with the Indian “question”. Local tribes were guaranteed continuation of their fishing rights in the river but their people were relocated to Reservations at remote locations. Thereafter, they couldn’t fish unless they walked, often hundreds of miles back to the river where white people now owned the land and resented any intrusion by these same Indians. Once the dams were put in, the river turned into a series of lakes and effective net fishing (in the rapids and at several waterfalls) was no longer practical. Sounds like a rough world for the Indians once the USA government decided to help them assimilate.
Once in a while, I experience senior moments. A reasonably common word, that I know well, had slipped into my subconscious at one point and hovered for days in front of my eyes. It was “anachronistic”, a word that you all know, and is used either to describe the phenomenon of seeing jet contrails in a western movie or someone like me who concerns himself with the positioning of apostrophes and commas (something, or someone, out of place in time or simply outdated). The remedial solution should be that, as soon as the word in question flashes in front of one’s eyes, one should rush to a bit of paper and jot it down. In my case, I usually “intend” to include it in a file that I have in the computer, a file that is, appropriately, entitled “Words frequently forgotten”. Needless to say, the file is quite diminutive since I usually forget the words before I get a chance to enter them. Incidentally, the first word on the small list is “anecdotal”, used to describe things and events that lack proof but are backed up by a body of rumours. This word clicks on and off in my mind but is rarely there when needed most. Once on the list, I know that I am safe for, though I might forget the actual word again, I always remember that it is on the list.

From my cell phone, I talked to a series of very slow-to-understand Telus operators. In preparation for my return to Canada, I was attempting to reinstall land-line service at the cabin, as well as get my cell phone off the flat rate I use when travelling (North America 75). I thought that my arguments were reasonably well presented but these thickly-accented ladies were painfully unhurried in their efforts to understand what I was trying to tell them. In the end, I used up a lot of my roaming minutes and still had to call back when I got over the border. Changing a phone plan isn’t quite rocket science but there were moments when I felt that, if not precisely on the moon, my erstwhile Telus agents could have been speaking from half a planet away.
Campground observation: At Maryhill, the site adjacent to me vacated and a new unit moved in. On arrival, the lady of the “house” hopped out and, evidently acting in an official capacity for the first time that day, began to assist in the reversing process. Making sure that she was visible in the mirrors to the driver, she commenced to rotate her signalling arm in a clockwise manner, thus indicating her intent to have the steering wheel act in a like manner, thereby causing the Motorhome to move its rear to the right and thence into the nearest tree, or me, whichever came first. The driver, obviously a person of experience in matters not only of the heart but also of Motorhome reversing, backed correctly into the spot without a word, either understanding, or ignoring, her obviously incorrect commands . Presumably, she felt that her contribution had been helpful, since the Motorhome ended up where it was supposed to. Hopefully, there will never be a crisis in which her directions are critical.
March 29th Maryhill to Omak via Yakima, Ellensburg, # 97 to Wenatchee and up the Okanogan River (note spelling) took approximately 6.5 hours, including a breather at Lincoln Rock State Park to grab a sandwich. The Omak Walmart almost seems like coming home, since it is often the first stop in December heading south and one of the last returning North. A recent feature of camping there is that the Macdonalds, across the street, now offers a strong Wi-Fi signal. The parking lot is quite a gathering point for Canadian Snowbirds. From there, I could easily have made it home, but, not wishing to waste any of my expensive medical insurance, I drove 1.5 hours to Spectacle Lake (N48 48.608 W119 32.721) - west of Tonasket and south of the Nighthawk/Chopaka border crossing and Keremeos, camping there for my last night south of the border. The small patch of BLM was quite crowded, with most of the units having a somewhat permanent appearance (possibly a by-product of the U.S. housing crisis?). In fact, the Motorhome nearest me, flying a huge American flag, remained vacant all night. Anyway, I had a pleasant night by the lake and pulled out in reasonable time next morning, trying to be one of the first to pass through the single-agent border post. As it happens, one trailer got there first and the couple had to go inside the little hut to do their business. Basically, they just disappeared for about 20 minutes. When my time came, I recognized the elderly agent from a few years ago, so felt we had some rapport – until talk turned to spirits (the bottled type). I declared to having about 2.5 litres in three different bottles of “leftovers”. We agreed that, even though I had one cheap bottle of rum (almost empty) and one a little more expensive (almost full), he would, as a favour, work out the duty based on the cheaper variety that I valued at $9.00 (it could have been $9.00, had I bought it on sale). Excise tax, plus B.C. Liquor equivalency tax, plus GST and PST, added another $19.30 to my original purchase, still cheaper than buying booze in BC Liquor Stores but a far cry from prices in the US. In the excitement, I forgot all about mentioning the full cardboard box (5L) of cheap wine that I had on board.
I was home at the cabin at about 4.00, so had time to transfer some food, hook up the TV receiver and get the fire going. The next day, in went the water pump with no problems and I did more hauling. For all the work I do transferring stuff between cabin and trailer, I should just maintain two fully stocked locations for heavy things (canned goods etc) and not bother carting everything up and down the path twice a year.
Salmon Arm Golf Course has opened already, very early for it, so I have already played a couple of times. My plans call for a trip to Vancouver Island on or about April 20th to visit my mother, assist her in boarding a plane to England on May 1st, then returning to the Shuswap in early May. Sadly, I shall be skipping the reunion planned at Lake Louise in a week or two. Hopefully, one or two of you will find your way to the Shuswap between now and next winter.
JW