A Wintry Trip to Prince George - 3 days on the road, and we're gonna make it home today!

Howard: Make sure you take your coat, your boots, your mitts, your hat .... it's not like this up there, you know.

Me: Yes, I know. I have it all. And it's really warm and cozy in Neil's big white truck.

Howard: Yeah, but something could happen more than a flat tire, you might be stuck in the middle of nowhere in a huge blizzard with whiteout conditions, avalanches, and you could be days with no heat, no food .... in fact, you could freeze to death if you forget your scarf.

Okay. Maybe he didn't go that far, but I'm sure he was thinking it. However, I have a bit more faith in our Professional Driver and his ability to keep his mommy safe and warm on a wintry trip to Prince George. And as far as running out of food? I don't think so. 

Besides that, it was quite nice in Surrey when we left - sunny and not even cold enough for fur coats.

However, by the time we reached 100 Mile House, both the night and the snow started falling.

 We stopped to unload a bunch of grub at a Save On Foods .... it was definitely winter here. .

And on we went. The roads became really snow covered and slippery, with lots of slushy spray splashing on our window from passing vehicles. Dropping temps made the window ice up, and the wiper on Neil's side just gave up the ghost north of Williams Lake, leaving him with just a little viewing space. That sort of made me a wee bit happier, as it meant we had to pull into a much safer rest stop. This was a trip where my knuckles were definitely whiter, and my butt definitely more of an edge-of-the-seater.

We were pretty much way behind time anyway, as we really should have been dropping a load at Prince George by then, but dispatch couldn't find any repair people willing to drive out of anywhere to replace the wiper, so we ending up spending the night - safe and warm in the cozy truck. So much for Howard's 'told you so.' I knew that would come eventually.

This was the scene that met our eyes in the morning.

 

See that little brown building? Guess who hadn't peed in well over 12 hours? Yes, you may be thinking, she'll just have to hold it in until they reach another Husky. In fact, that was what I was thinking too, until I thought that no animal or bug in its right mind would be out in such cold weather just waiting to see who was going to sit on the toilet, so I actually hauled on my (too short) boots and headed over.

At least my socks didn't get wet when I plowed my way through all that virgin snow, beating a path for all the brave strong truckers who would follow my footsteps as the morning progressed. That's because I wasn't wearing any socks - which left more room for snow in my boots. It was all ... good, I guess ... until I went to close the door behind me. That's when I realized that the snow that had drifted up against the door had fallen inside, and now I couldn't close the door until I kicked it all out of the way. However, there were no big noisy flies buzzing around inside, and no rat footprints or bear cubs hiding behind the toilet. So I really braved up, took care of business, and made it back to the truck.

(I still think about the time I went into an outdoor toilet at Tynehead Park during a long bike ride and after a gallon of water - everything was good until I lifted the lid and about 3 thousand shithouse flies rose like a cloud from the bottomless pit. I just couldn't do it. I was out of there like the proverbial bat).

So then we had to backtrack about 20 km to Williams Lake to get a new wiper.

It just took a few minutes at the Freightliner repair garage for someone to climb up on the truck and replace the wiper, then we were on the road again.

At least it wasn't snowing now, and it seemed we were going in the right direction - those long long hills we were going down weren't particularly friendly to the truckers that were trying to get up them.

In fact, we met two semis being towed uphill. Neil said they were 'spun out', and that means the wheels on the truck go round and round, but the truck goes nowhere, and it could happen when the load that is being hauled is heavier than the tractor. And the loads usually are.

I must admit, even though I'm not fussy about winter, cold temps and snow, there were tons of pretty on the way.

These black clouds looked a bit ominous, but they were over somewhere far far away, and didn't cause any grief at all.

There were a couple of long hills with oodles of vehicles lined up, waiting for semis to get hooked up to tow trucks, and traffic to move on. We were lucky we were going north instead of south, and by the time we were driving back home everything was a lot better.

I must admit, daytime driving was a lot easier on the nerves than nighttime driving. And clear windows made it all much better! See? We got LOTS of room!

Blue skies, and a truly winter wonderland.

 

We finally did make it to Prince George, a bit past our last night deadline, but better late than never, I guess. We had a really late breakfast at the Husky, then headed a bit farther to pick up a load of pulp at a Pulp Mill.

And it's a turn around, heading back home and driving into a pretty sunset. Thank goodness the snow had stopped, and the roads very much improved. The plan was to drive as far as we could before we stopped for another 8-hour sleepover, hopefully in the comforting shadow of a Husky truck stop.

This is a big reason why I wouldn't want Neil's job - the long lonely highway is a lot lonelier and seems a lot longer in the night.

We reached the Husky at Cache Creek, and pulled over for the night. I ran inside - it was so bitterly cold with the wind chill factor, my coat and hat didn't do me a lot of good. The huge flag was whipping around, catching the wind like a sail and making its own thunderous music. Brrrrrrr. Make that a double Brrrrr.

After another sleepful night, we were on the final leg of the trip. The snow slowly disappeared, leaving winter farther behind. I am always amazed at the changes in the landscape - bye bye Christmas trees, hello sagebrush!

Here the snow doesn't even cover the crop circles!

There wasn't much snow in the Canyon.

Beautiful, no matter what season!

 

 We pulled over at Jackass Mountain Pass for a break. Even though it was cold I braved up enough to hop out for a quick photo shoot. I LOVE my iPhone camera!

We drove by so many gorgeous icefalls.

We know by the time we hit the tunnels, we are really on the last stretch of our trip!  I thought this one made a very pretty frame for the picture!

I'm glad to say, my hands didn't remain idle on this trip, as I brought sticks and thread with me. I have been knitting a bit lately, after an almost 3 year hiatus. I'm a lot slower than I used to be (not only at knitting, either!) but like everything I do, I soldier on.

And here we are, back in the lower mainland, going over the Alex Fraser bridge. Look up ... way up. These little bumps on the high part are actually two people - I guess they are doing some sort of maintenance. Another reason to love the job you've got, especially if you get to keep both feet on the ground!

Grande Prairie trip part 2 - We're Coming Home ...

 (in case you didn't get Part 1 - it's here.)

Instead of grabbing a few hours of sleep at Grande Prairie, we just fueled up and headed south to Jasper for a different route home. The trick was to find a pull-out on Highway 40 before Neil's drive time ran out - which we did. This happened to be in the middle of nowhere - well, actually, not the middle of nowhere, but a few hours south of Grand Prairie, beside one of many clear cut expanses. There were no road side toilets here, and not even any bushes to squat behind (not that I would - I think there are bears and moose up this way.)

We drove by signs for Kelly's Bathtub - I thought that was an interesting name, and pondered its meaning for quite a while. When I got home and googled it, turns out it's a lake in a park - no doubt a beautiful lake in a beautiful park, but quite a disappointment. I had imagine Mr Kelly transporting (maybe by some of the camels that disappeared from the Gold Rush Trail) a fabulous claw foot tub to a hot spring in the wilds, just so he could soak and pumice his feet in comfort after a hard day at the mines. 

(I find place names really interesting. On the way to Prince George, we pass a sign for Likely - I think a couple of gold seekers were seeking somewhere to spend the night, and the older one decided a spot by a big old cave would be good. But when the younger one saw a bear nearby, he said, 'Not likely.' So they kept on slogging, until they found a pretty lake with lots of blueberry bushes nearby. And the younger one said, 'Likely.' And the name stuck.However, this is all a figment of my imagination.)

Our next pit stop was Hinton, where there was a Husky - my favourite place to pee, so all I had to do was not think about waterfalls, thundershowers, or the bottle of water sloshing in the door compartment by my side. Then it was on to Jasper, another park in the foothills of Alberta.

I guess it's always windy in the foothills - at least when I travel across them. This morning was no exception - and like Neil said, he was towing a big sail behind us. However, like I tell people, he is an Experienced Driver, and I have all my faith in him.

I didn't see any wildlife driving along, although we saw some wild driving, like the little old man who decided a solid yellow line was the perfect place to pass us, even though a Wide Truck warning truck and the Wide Truck it was warning us about were coming towards us all. A few miles later, we saw his little truck pulled over, and he and little old wife were changing places. I think she probably had taken the time to change her underwear, too - I probably would have.

Neil, however, saw a herd of caribou, but by the time he said 'Look over there' and I thought he meant 'Look up there', and I looked up in the sky for maybe a bald eagle, we were long gone by.

The scenery was awesome, though, as we all expect, even though the skies were grey.

This was such a beautiful lake - the colour was amazing!

And we did lose the rain and the grey skies ...

If a picture's worth a thousand words, here's a few thousand words -

I do love bridges .. this one was over a train track, if I remember correctly.

As we neared Valemont (back in BC) we passed a billboard -

RIVER SAFARI

ONE AMAZING HOUR

and pasted across the bottom - only 35 minutes. Okay. Maybe the hour is so amazing, it only seems like 35 minutes, but if a person can get easily confused, this would be very confusing. However, I figured out that the actual tourist attraction was 35 minutes away. (I guess that would depend on how fast one was driving, though ...)

I really would love to go on this adventure though - yup, I could certainly see me here ...

However, for now I'll settle for the long lonesome highway ...

We stopped for a break at a pullout near Mount Robson, where there is a memorial to Terry Fox and the starting point of the Terry Fox Trail. I'd love to explore this area more - maybe another bucket list item? Who knows.

And we just kept on Yellowheading IT -

In all the miles I've travelled with Neil, this is the only moose I saw. I was pleased that it stayed still long enough for me to snap it.

It was either in or near Clearwater. It's been a while. I really should take notes when we travel ...

More rain ..

Of course we can't forget the town of Waverby, which isn't even google-able, unless of course I spelled it wrong. (And of course I spelled it wrong - it's actually Vanenby) What makes it noteworthy is the Shook's Ranch Trail Rides. Now that's what I call truth in advertising, because believe me, when I went trail riding at Back in the Saddle Again, I certainly shook a lot. A whole lot.

And for everyone who isn't happy with their job - believe me, it could be worse .... you could be the poor fellow way up in this Tonka-On-Steroids. I know you can't see him, but believe me, I could.

Once again, a change of scenery as we drive westward ...

A bit foggy ...

Yup, definitely a bit foggy .... we seemed to catch all kinds of weather this trip, except snow.

And here we are at the nicest brake stop of all - Zopkios. A very nice toilet, clean and wonderfully flushable - but only Arctic cold water in the taps. And don't think you can warm your hands with their electric hand blower dryers, because it's only Arctic air in those. Brrrrr. My fingers didn't think it was possible to get any colder without cracking off.

 

So, thank you, Neil, for another great trip - and I still got home in time for Howard's Salt Fish Cakes! Life is good indeed.

At The Hospital Part 3 - Indignities, Insults, An Angiogram, and Bring on the Salt!

First thing Monday morning, two ambulance people came in and wheeled my roomie out for her trip to Vancouver for her angiogram, and a couple of hours later my turn came. I was heading for New Westminster for my adventure ... I mean angiogram. After a few days stuck in a hospital ward, it was nice to feel rain on my face, to tell the truth. (And when I said stuck in a ward, I meant it. When the fam came to visit the day before, which was Sunday, I decided I would walk down to the main floor with them - who knows, I may even have smuggled in a couple of packs of salt from the cafeteria - but as soon as the elevator left our floor, something on me began to beep. Seems like the little portable heart monitor was warning the cardio staff there was an escapee ... so I had to elevate myself back up to the fourth floor before they sent out the swat team.)

However, here I was in the ambulance, with a guy from the same ward who was heading to the same place for almost the same thing - he was going for angioplasty, which was the insertion of these little stent thingies that stretch your blocked arteries open again so they could once again be used for blood transportation. Seems he had come to the hospital as a heart attack patient the week before, and had already 'been there, done that' regarding the trip to New West - he already had 5 stents shoved up his arm, and was on the way for 5 more.

After we got to the ward, all we basically had to do was lie on our uncomfortable beds and wait for our turn. A few nurses stopped by to do a bit o this'n'that - one of them filled out a chart for me.

'Your height?'

'5' 3"' (Well, I used to be 5'3". I don't think I quite make it anymore, but I was pretty sure they wouldn't measure me. And since I was lying down, she should have been more clear and asked for my length. That would probably have been 5' 3" anyway, as I was pretty much stretched out from head to toe.)

But here comes the zinger ....

'Your weight?'

'170'

'Is that pounds or kilograms?'

Okay. It's not like my butt was overhanging the bed on both sides. Do you realize how many pounds 170 kgs are? Well, we're talking about 374lbs, 12.574oz. And yes, I meant pounds.

And to add to my indignity, here comes a gal with a razor. Now I knew this 'procedure' was going to take place through my right wrist ... however, she informed me that if that wasn't going to work, they would use the artery in the front of my leg right where it joins the torso ... try not to picture it, please. I felt like telling her to buzz off, but figured she had the upper call.

And finally, off I go on a stretcher, wearing absolutely nothing except a stupid hospital gown and a blanket. Oh yes, and a pair of socks. I guarantee you would never see such an outfit on a Paris catwalk ....

The waiting room for the 'procedure' was cold - more paperwork, more waiting. The guy they had just brought out had been told his blockages were too severe for angioplasty - he was headed for open heart surgery. He said the angioplasty was a 'piece of cake.' He obviously had big fat arteries.

And now my turn. I was looking forward to the sedative they promised me - memories of long ago D&Cs came back. The nice nurses in these hospital wards would give you a shot of something, and as you were wheeled to the OR, you were floating on a sea of clouds, your arms and legs feeling like sea anemones in a warm, calm sea.

And then, once you hit the operating table, you were told to count backwards from 100 ... and about 98 or so you were out cold. Oh those were the days!

However, I scootch over on the table, surrounded by all these machines and computers and people, and a nurse comes over with a needle. She pops it in through my IV, and tells me it's the strongest dose. I just lay there waiting ... waiting ... waiting. In fact, I'm still waiting, and that was over a month ago. Now comes the little doctor, who sits beside my right arm, which is waiting on its own little table thingie. He gives my poor little wrist a shot that just about causes my whole body to elevate at least 5" off the table - this was supposed to be a needle to deaden pain, not cause a whole amount of it. It did its job in what I felt was at least 20 minutes, but was probably a shorter elapse of time.

I felt him poking about - and then heard words you never want to hear when your lying on an operating table.

'I'm going to need a scalpel.'

WHEN in God's name was that drug gonna work????

But that wasn't the worst part. I don't like to think of the feeling of that catheter being pushed inch by inch up inside my arm. The closest thing I can think off to describe it was trying to shove a wiener inside a piece of limp spaghetti. And not giving up. However, once that thing reached my upper arm, I couldn't feel its progress any more, and all of a sudden .... I got the Oh My God I Peed The Bed Feeling.

My nurse had warned me of this. She told me when they injected the dye up the catheter, it would feel like I peed the bed. And though I'm not one who usually wets the bed, I know now what it would feel like.

(I was in bed when my water broke when I went into labour with Steve. My only regret regarding this - that Howard wasn't also in bed.)

Anyway, this was when they told me I had a beautiful heart, so I did get a big smug, even though now I had a hole in my artery, and didn't really feel like going dancing.

Next was a Don't Move That Arm period of time, when a nurse would come along with a needle of some sort, and I do believe draw blood out of whatever thing they had wrapped around my wrist. I didn't really feel like asking or looking - and after a few hours, the ambulance drivers showed up again, this time to take me home... I mean, back to Surrey General.

Nurse said, 'Now, keep that hand still for at least 24 hours - from now on we treat it like a fracture.'

A nice paramedic took my poor hand and laid it on my chest.

'There,' he said, 'leave it over your heart.'

'But ... but ....', I spluttered. 'I won't be able to text.'

I think they thought I was joking. But I wasn't.

The next morning, the cardiologist came in, and started laughing when he saw me.

'You were right,' he said, 'no blockages.'

I love these words, no matter who says them. After the word APPROVED  on the debit card machine, they're the best words in the English language.

So ... the next day I got to go home. Someday, they'll find out what went wrong, and hopefully fix it. Until then, I'll just keep the number for 911 close at hand.

At the Hospital - Part 2 - Blood, Sweat and ... well, no Tears yet ....

No, I didn't forget Part 2 of my hospital stay - how could I?

I spent 5 days lying on a sheet-covered plastic mattress, for one thing. Do you realize how sweaty that can make you? I don't shower every single day (I know I should, but I don't. I'm not going to shower just so I can smell sweet for doing laundry, dusting, and watering the plants) but I do shower at least every second day, and every day when I work, and that's actually 3 days in a row. However, there I was, stuck in bed with an IV port stuck in my arm, and a heart monitor stuck all over my torso and legs, and I really needed a shower.

If I knew I had to go 24 hours with no heart pain before I could shower, I certainly wouldn't have had any worth mentioning, but that seems to be the rule. No amount of cajoling could change my nurse's mind - I even tried to bribe her with my iPad, but she still refused.

'Well, do you have some Febreeze I can use?' I was trying to be funny. Doesn't always work, though.

And she actually said, 'Yes, we do have a spray.'

Well, that scared me even more. I certainly didn't want to walk around in a waft of artificial rose. So I succumbed to her wishes and once more had a scrub down at the bathroom sink.

I had tons of visitors, but most of them were after something - blood, mostly. I watched in horror as two people wheeled in a gigantic machine that looked like a Kitchen Aid mixer on steroids, and I realized they were heading for my bed.

'Have you ever had a chest x-ray?' one of them asked. (Sigh of relief.)

'Yes,' I answered, 'but I've never had one delivered before.,

 Whew.

And shortly after that, this tiny little Chinese boy wheeled in yet another machine - and proceeded to hook me up so he could do an ultrasound of my beautiful heart. (No one knew it was beautiful yet, though.)

He apologized every time he had to shove my boobs out of the way - it would have been quite funny, actually, if it were someone else's boobs he had to manhandle.

However, the weekend passed, and on Monday morning, Dr Tam (the cardiologist) came in and told me he was sure they would find blockages when they did the angiogram that day - I told him I didn't think they would. He said, 'You'd be surprised, they'll find at least one, but don't worry, they can fix it right away.'

I wouldn't argue with him.

And I guess there's a Part 3 of this coming somewhere down the line .....

Start with a trip to Grande Prairie - End with a Newfoundland lesson ( for those of you who aren't that lucky ... )

I was so happy last week to leave on another road trip with Neil, this time to Grand Prairie in Alberta, another place I have never been. First Neil picked me up in Surrey, and then he picked a trailer up in Langley. I was loaded with three kinds of home baked cookies (I spent all morning in the kitchen), and the trailer was loaded with a whack of grub for Save On Foods, and it was, as Willie sings, On The Road Again.

We met Autumn on the way -

We've often driven towards some beautiful skies, and Tuesday evening was no exception -

There wasn't a lot of daylight driving, as we didn't leave Langley until about 5 o'clock. Because there had to be an 8 hour sleepy-time, Neil pulled over a couple of hours before Prince George, and we bunked up at a roadside rest stop.

Now, FYI, roadside rest stops do not have nice white porcelain flushy toilets. No, they have these deep open pits with fly infested openings, and rats, spiders and raccoons living in the depths below. At least that's what my mind believes. I haven't always had this peculiar fear of outhouses - in fact, I used them often as I was growing up. The little house we lived in first after we married had an outhouse - it was really a shed with a 'toilet' in the corner. I remember once I was sitting pretty in one corner, and noticed a rat sitting pretty kitty-kat corner away from me. I didn't even freak out - much. But then, I'd much rather see one than feel one. Or feel something that could be one.

Thank goodness I didn't have to go before I went to sleep - however, when morning came around, it was a different story. I am happy to say I braved up - I think I deserve a certificate or something. That was much harder than walking over the Capilano Suspension Bridge, and I got a certificate for that.

We weren't far out from Prince George when Neil informed me that I was now on a brand new (for me) road. This was the the Hart Highway, (Highway 97 North), which starts at Prince George and winds its way northeast to Dawson Creek where it becomes the Alaska Highway. This 406 km (252 miles) highway leads through farmlands, forests, over mountain passes to the foothills and open prairies.(Excuse all the links, I pasted this from another site.)

And yes, we were on the Alaska Highway for maybe 5 minutes. How exciting was that??? (Not much, actually, but if it had been on my bucket list I could have checked it off.) 

It wasn't long until the vegetation started to change - the road was no longer bordered with  conifers in 50 shades of green. Here we had lots of yellow and browns and greys - all ready to hibernate under an azure sky.

We stopped for a break at this map of the Peace River District -

One place (should I say another place?) I really would love to explore is Chetwynd - just to see all the wood carvings lining the highway through the town. Amazing.

We didn't see any bears or salmon here, although as we were driving along we did see three beautiful swans in a lake at the side of the road.

Another stop for a brake check.

And next - Dawson Creek, where we drove the wee bit of the Alaska Highway. We also drove a wee bit of muddy detours around construction sites. It amazes me how anyone can squirm a semi with a 53' trailer around these tight curves.

Don't get this town confused with the old TV series, Dawson's Creek, which despite it's name, was not filmed in Dawson Creek. It was filmed in North and South Carolina and Massachusetts.

This Dawson Creek has the Alberta Pool Elevator  which was the first grain elevator in BC, built in 1930. As you can see, it how houses an art gallery. Modern times have made these building obsolete, and very few remain of the hundreds that were built in BC and the Prairie Provinces.

After Dawson Creek and its treacherous muddy detours (very short but very curvy) we head on towards the Alberta border and Grande Prairie.

We pass through Beaverlodge on the way - home of this giant beaver.

And on we travelled, until we reached Grande Prairie. While the trailer was being unloaded, we visited with family from 'back home' - Elaine and Wilson, who drove to the loading dock of Save On Foods with 2 hot plates of Chinese food, a container of the most delicious Carrot Muffins I have ever tasted, and a bag of frozen delicacies - cod tongues, cod cheeks, fresh fish, and frozen bakeapples. All very much appreciated, for sure. We had a great chat in the White Shadow (Neil's semi),

Now, I know I have some splainin' to do, as Ricky would say to Lucy. If you had seen the fresh fish Elaine gave us, you might have argued it was frozen. It was indeed frozen. It was, in fact, frozen fresh fish. As opposed to salt fish, which wouldn't have been frozen, but which would have stunk up Neil's semi quite a lot on the 14 hours of drive time and the 8 hours of sleep time on the way back home. So I thank them both for that.

You might also wonder what kind of fish it was. If you did, I would know you weren't a Newfoundlander. Because Newfoundlanders know there is only one kind of fish - North Atlantic Cod. Many other swimmy things live in the cold Atlantic waters, yummy things like salmon and halibut and sea trout - but as far as we are concerned, cod is the important one, the one that brought livelihood to generations of Newfoundlanders. So there. 

Any fish?
No, not one. Just a few salmon.

And I'm going to end this post with that little lesson. Next one will be the trip back through Jasper.