Off To Prince George Again - with Bugs, Trains, and Zombies ....

Thursday morning. My ride awaits - not quite as bumpy as my Monday's ride, thank goodness. (I'm glad Neil's truck doesn't trot.) Steve is just warming up the seat for me. He's such a good boy, but doesn't realize there are seat warmers installed, although I probably won't need them as the temps are in the high teens/low 20s.

We're heading to Prince George, and although I've 'seen it all before' I can still be amazed at the scenery. That is why I took about a million pictures with both my IPhone and my IPad - and why it took me almost all day to load and delete about 999,949 of them. This reminded me of the writing classes my friend Roxie and I took a few years ago, when we had to write something about 1500 words long then reduce it to 500. That wasn't always easy, either. However - it did improve the writing so much ... hopefully the same thing works here.

Now - here's what happened. Because I was using two cameras, I may have gotten a wee bit mixed up on order of pics. Let's just pretend I didn't though, and everything turned out perfect.

The rivers are pretty high now from spring run-off - this would be the best time for panning for gold, if one wanted to do that. Seems that the rushing waters dislodge gold pieces from the mountains (flakes, or gold dust mostly) and float them down the river.

We never saw any miners dipping their pans though - maybe roadside riverbeds aren't the best. Coming through the area south of Spences Bridge, you can see just how high the Fraser River is - thank goodness for the retaining wall.

This picture is at the end of the Snake Pit - if you are very brave and don't get carsick, watch  this video from You Tube. To tell the truth, the first trip I ever took here with Neil , I was a tad nervous going through the Snake Pit. Now, as a seasoned traveller, I don't grip the edges of the seat anymore. As much.

 This cute old church is at Spences Bridge. This is also the town of Bait's Motel.

 I will apologize here for the strange quality of my pictures. Since they are taken through a truck window, and it is indeed spring, there are millions of bugs reaching the end of their short lives as they meet the glass. It's amazing how many colours there are in a bug.

This pre-sunset photo proves it. 

Back to the trip ....

 We reached 150 Mile House about the same time as the sunset. At least, I think it was 150 Mile House.

After the sunset, there was no point in taking many pictures. I think I yawned the rest of the way to Prince George. We arrived around half past midnight, then it was drop off the trailer and head a couple of blocks back to the Husky for a good sound sleep. 

The first thing I saw when I hopped out of the truck in the morning was this - a veritable buffet for people who like to eat bugs.

But since we weren't in Survivor mode, we headed to the restaurant - bathroom break and coffee were my priorities.

And after a feed of bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast, the offerings on the grill didn't tempt me at all.

Neil was nice enough to clean the window before we headed for home. This was probably more for his benefit than mine though - his being able to see in front of him was important.
Of course, this caused the rain to fall while we were going through Quesnel. 

We had seen this peculiar camper truck when we were leaving the Husky in Prince George, and here it was again in Quesnel.  I thought Howard could make me a little camper like this, complete with balcony. However, it wasn't until it rounded a corner and we saw what was hauling it, we realized it was a little house used in fire protection education - there was a fire department logo on the truck hauling it. Oh well. It would still have been a cute camper.

 I doubt if Howard would have built me one anyway. It took him 3 weeks, 2 hours, and a trip to Canadian Tire to put a carry rack over Breehy's rear tire.

Quesnel is one of the towns on this route I would love to explore. One day. When Howard builds me a camper.

It's amazing how the landscape changes on this drive, from heavy woods, to huge green pastures, to semi-arid desert full of sagebrush.

And looky here - this is  Pioneer Log Homes of Williams Lake, the company featured on the TV show  Timber Kings.

 I bet they could build me a camper.

South of Williams Lake - isn't this pretty? There are quite a few communities hugging the shores of lakes along the way. Lac La Hache is of them - this might be Lac La Hache, in fact. Maybe.

It was on this trip that Neil decided to introduce me to his favourite Zombie books - Zombie Fallout. Now I'm not a zombie fan at all - I don't believe there will ever be a Zombie Apocalypse, I don't think dead people will ever try to eat my brains (or what's left of them.) I don't even really believe in the ghosts and alien creatures in Stephen King's books. 

However .... 

“The word lighthearted doesn’t usually come to mind when we think of the zombie apocalypse, but Sean Runnette does a skillful job balancing humor with horror in this audio edition, which makes for an entertaining stroll with the walking dead…Runnette gives Talbot a dry, I-knew-this-was-going-to-happen-to-me-someday attitude that captures the wry spirit of Tufo’s prose. This provides a welcome departure from the doom and gloom of most zombie tales, and Runnette wrings plenty of chuckles from the material. Still, the narrator doesn’t forget that this is an apocalyptic horror story, making sure there are plenty of chills and thrills along the way.” (Publisher’s Weekly)

Neil has the audiobook copies of the whole series on his tablet,  and he started the first book while we were travelling. 

I must say, between the story itself, and the narrator - well, I was laughing so hard at times I almost lost my breath. (Thanks to the many Husky stations on the way, that was all I almost lost.) So now I'm a fan. I can't wait for the Zombie Apocalypse now.)

However, I could still take pictures and listen at the same time.

Notice the yellow drifting in the meadow? These are buttercups! And some people call them weeds. Imagine that!

 This lake had a pollen beach around it!

 And we're soon into sagebrush country. It was around here Neil saw a snake crawling? slinking? wiggling? across the road. I missed it - I was too busy looking for mountain goats.

 This would be a tunnel if they didn't blast away the connecting part of the mountain ...

 Doesn't this house just blend in with its environment?

 And here's the mighty Fraser. I'll tell you, this was a rough and roaring part of the river.

 South of Spences Bridge on the way home - see how high the water is?

 And boy, were there ever rapids. Who'd like to go white water rafting with me this summer?

See the train track hanging onto the edge of the mountain? I don't know if I'd have enough nerves to travel this route by train, although I can only imagine the terrific views there would be.

 What a wonderful artist Mother Nature is ...

 And here, way way down, is the Fraser River heading to the lower mainland.

 I can't get over how long these trains are - this one goes as far as the eye can see, and this is the middle of it.

Crossing over the road ... we're heading under ....

Our last stop at a Husky -

The truck sure looks long at this angle. The trailer is long, though - 53'. Neil is bringing agility to the supply chain.

We stopped at Boston Bar - here is the aerial ferry that used to traverse the Fraser River. I would have loved to travel on this, but it's been taken out of service. They built a bridge instead. I love bridges (I used to NOT love bridges, but now I do) but this looks like a lot more fun!

Now, instead of going for a ride way up in the sky, you can sit and have a lunch inside. There was a huge display of history, words and pics, behind the ferry. Boston Bar seems like a gotta visit place too.

Wow - talk about a zipline with a view!

Tickets weren't expensive, either.

If you can take your eyes off the scraggly haired image, you can see the ferry making a crossing either in or before 1950. That's even before I was born.

And here we are, back at the tunnels again. See, they didn't blow the roof of this one. This one is Sailor Bar tunnel, a pretty short one.

And we come out to a view of cloud wrapped mountains!

And now it's time to concentrate on the last part of Zombie Fallout. I was just hoping he would read fast enough so we could reach the finish before we reached home - but alas, that was not to be. So now there's more than one reason for me to look forward to my next trip with Neil!

Another Bucket List Item to Check Off - Yee Haw!

Okay. Here's a riddle for you - what are you doing, while sitting for an hour, that turns you into a muscle-sore invalid for two days?

Try horseback riding. I'm not sure how the horse felt after our little adventure, but I'm sure his muscles didn't ache like mine. After all, he wasn't straddled over a 4' wide saddle.

The rain was pouring down in buckets when we left Surrey, but Darcy of  Back In The Saddle Again in Langley called and said it was good there, so off we went in Penny's car. Of course she knew the route - she had directions from the Back In The Saddle webpage, plus from the internet, plus from her son-in-law. So after we were zooming down 88 Avenue for a while, I called Steve and found out how to get there. And we did, after about a 45 minute drive.

The horses, and Darcy, were waiting for us - and it wasn't long before he matched us up with our steeds. Nikkie was first - she got Bonnie ....

Chris got Earor ....

Penny (now known as Butch Cassidy) got Sundance ...

And I got Cub. Cub was very wide. Extremely wide. As in almost doing the splits wide. Oh well, I did manage to crawl up on his poor wide back, and we were off on a trail ride through a beautiful park.

We rode trails in Campbell Valley Regional Park but you'll either have to believe me, or check out the link, when I tell you how beautiful it was. I was too busy hanging onto my hat, my boobs, and the reins to take pictures.

Regarding the hat, since it could have been, as in supposed to have been, a rainy day and I had my hooded jacket left in Mission, I decided to wear Steve's cowboy hat, just so my hair wouldn't get wet. The hat was a bit loose, so Steve made me a wedge out of a strip of cardboard he tore off a box, and it seemed I was all set. For the car ride, anyway.

However the wedge got loose as Cub trotted down the path, stopping only for the occasional mouthful of sweet grass (he wasn't supposed to do that, but we were the ones who got in trouble, not the horses.) However ....

It was fine when he was just walking. But when it was trotting time? Well, just let me warn you - don't wear a Genie bra (or an Ahhhh bra) when you go trotting on a horse. Either wear the strongest tightest bra you  can find, or get someone (probably a husband or boyfriend or girlfriend) to sit behind you and hold onto your boobs. Enough said. 

So, between holding onto the hat, and trying to squeeze some shred of control of my boobs between my elbows, and hanging onto the thingie in front of the saddle and the reins too, I would have found it a tad difficult to take pictures. I hope you all understand.

However, we made it back, safe and sound .... No, that isn't Cub without me, Cub and I are behind these three taking their picture, and wondering how the heck I was going to climb down from the saddle.

I don't know if it's the age thing or what, but I don't remember feeling the hurt of so many muscles after previous horseback rides - but then again, I haven't ridden since way way back - the last time was when I dragged Sheila to the rides at Trinity Loop. I do remember it was a bit bouncy, though. 

However, it was fun ... but I don't think I'll enter the Free 2-Hour Horse Back Ride Draw though. I don't think I could do a 2-hour one. I must be getting old.

Many thanks to Darcy, Bev and Tim for the adventure. Darcy's the one to call if you want to get back in the saddle, and Bev and Tim were our patient guides for the day.

Here's a few more pics ..... and now I'm off for another ride - this time in a Semi to Prince George!

Poor, Poor Men - A ReRun from an older blog, but still quite true

Poor, Poor Men

So , I wake up this morning, and as I sip my hour-old coffee (I set the coffee pot so the coffee's fresh and hot and aromatic when my husband, a 'today' man, rolls his butt out of bed), I log into Yahoo! and this is what I read:

Why men think they have it harder today

New survey reveals why men today think they're worse off than those of previous generations

Yeah, right. Today's man has such a rough life. I'm wondering are they comparing it to cavemen days, when, dressed in rough buffalo skins and maybe sporting pretty peacock feathers in their hair, they had to actually go poke these same buffaloes to death with pointy sticks, then drag them home without the benefit of big noisy vroom vroom four-wheel bikes, then off course, after they dumped the bloody carcasses off at the doorstep, sit crosslegged in front of the bonfire ooging and arghing over the hunt, carefully guarding their privates from the occasional flanker floating from the flames? (I know, I know...bloody long sentence there, put up with it.)

Or maybe it's the cowboys they are comparing themselves to. Long hot days driving cattle across the plains, sun pouring from the heavens and rendering their Axe antiperspirant useless, camping on the stony riverside and trying to sleep with sharp rocks in the middle of their backs and occasionally getting caught in a flash flood and waking up miles downstream, thinking they had wet themselves before realizing the river had indeed wet them, then having to get up, dry off with the help of a few leaves and insect-infected moss, and climb over stabby bushes and snake pits and bear dens to their herd, all set for another boring day of the same old, same old.

Or maybe even more recent times, when a fisherman would get up before dawn, and row out to the fishing grounds with his nets and jigger and a cup of weak tea in his belly, come home soaking wet with cold ocean spray frozen on his whiskers, and before breakfast, clean and gut his catch, then spend the rest of the day loitering around mending his boat, his nets, cutting his firewood, hauling it out of the forest on a wheelbarrow (if he was lucky enough to have one), tending his potato garden, slaughtering a pig for supper, and reading the Bible to his kids before sending them to bed with a clout in the ear.

Meanwhile, the women, instead of rising at seven and eating high fibre cereal from a pretty rose-painted bowl before heading out to work, would, at their respective times:

- skin that bloody buffalo, make buffalo soup, buffalo stew, roast buffalo, buffalo pot pie, buffalo pancakes,,,etc etc, sew the bloody buffalo skin into little man skirts and shoes, but not man underpants as one of the few enjoyments she got was seeing her man jump and holler when one of those flankers from the bonfire found its way to his joystick

-stay home at the ranch, beat marauding Indians (sorry, I don't mean to be politically incorrect, but c'mon, now, we've all seen these Clint Eastwood and John Wayne movies) and Fuller Brush salesmen over the heads with cast iron frying pans and rolling pins (their husbands having taken all the rifles on the roundup), weed the fields, aerate the lawn, sew the curtains, take care of the kids  (at least ten, each one of them nine months younger than the one before), bake the bread, do the laundry, figure out how to set up wireless Internet, and then decide what to do in her spare time

- get her husband his first breakfast, his second breakfast, his mid morning lunch, his lunch, his three o'clock lunch, his supper and his bedtime lunch, fry fish, boil fish, dry fish, bottle fish, stew fish - and dig up a few spuds to go with same fish, plus everything the cowboys' wives did, except of course, the Indian part

So there you go, you poor fellers. Of course you have it tough. Go polish something - your Italian shoes, your Dodge Ram truck, your designer sunglasses. Drink something - your Starbucks lowfatfrozendoublecaramelfrappucini, your imported beer, your chamomile tea sweetened with stevia. Watch something - Victoria's Secret ads, hockey/football/softball (whatever's in season), the Detroit news channel.

Just quit bitchin' to us women - we're too busy doing everything we used to, plus half of what you used to - when you were REAL men!

Suck it up, buttercup.

A Poem For Mother's Day

All living things have mothers
spiders, bugs and brothers
moose and wolves and cows and horses
and elephants and rats of courses

all living things have mothers
who treat them like no others
until of course they grow a bit
and learn to gather, hunt and knit ...
and little mice and little snakes
are on their own, for goodness sakes.


but whether toddlers on our knee
or all grown up like my sons three
close at hand or far apart
they're still my babies in my heart.