Rolling Down the Yellowhead Highway

The forecast for this morning was cold and rain, so I packed up all I could the night before. At 5 am I rolled out of my sleeping bag and my heart almost stopped because it was so cold. I mean a wet cold, the kind that seeps into everything. I dived back into my sleeping bag, and listened to the rain and tried to convince myself that the drive to Port Edward and Kinnikinnick Campground wasn't really that long.

But, after a few minutes, I cowboyed up and crawled back out and proceeded to step out of the tent using the front flap when I heard the sliding door of the Vanagon in the next spot over slide open. I looked out and saw a woman look around, then walk a few paces back towards the back of her van and squat and pee. Being a proper gentleman, I waited for her to finish her business, and when I heard the door slide again, I went outside. 

It was lightly raining and 37 degrees. The bathroom looked farther away than it did last night, so I turned around and walked to the trees behind the tent and made like the woman next to me (although I didn't squat). What is good for the goose, is good for the gander.

I loaded up the rest of my belongings in the car, then stood for a moment and wondered what to do next. It was raining and I didn't want to get the tent wet by taking off the rain fly. My Boy Scout training did not prepare me for this. The fact that I got kicked out of Boy Scouts after a few meetings has nothing to do with my lack of preparation.

I realized I was getting wetter and not really doing anything, so I decided to collapse the tent and fold the tent up inside the tent fly and stuff it in a large garbage bag (as it was very wet). Taking the metal poles out in 37 degree, rainy weather is a numbing experience. It has been a long time since I lost the feeling in most of my fingers. I know, you're saying, "where are your gloves, dummy!" Because I was saying the same thing. After a few agonizingly cold minutes, I put all the poles in their bag, (along with the metal tent spikes which I had to pull out of the ground, thank you very much). Then I folded up the tent and rain fly and tried to stuff them into one garbage bag. Not happening. So I stuffed the tent in one bag (while hunkering over inside the car), and the rain fly in the other. Done deal. Piece of cake. No feeling in my fingers, but I was out of there.

By the way, Dave keeps a very nice park.

Dave's RV Park office.

So, off to Highway 16, or The Yellowhead Highway (named for the Yellowhead Pass, the route chosen to cross the Canadian Rockies.)

The drive would have been a very beautiful experience, if not for the low clouds and rain obscuring the magnificent snow-capped mountains.  I got a couple of shots of the mountains when they were visible.

Notice the road closed barriers. They were at both ends of this particular stretch of road.

This is for Suzanne, my Alaskan moose spotter. Alas, no moose were seen.

Road into Port Edward and Kinnikinnick RV park (farther on is Prince Rupert, where I will catch the ferry to Sitka on Sunday).

Home for two days!

Peace.