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.

Tamar Goes To Hospital - part 1

A midnight trip to the hospital, the man driving even though half asleep, the wife almost crumpled in a breathless (literally) heap on the floor mat below the passenger seat. Half a block from the emergency doors, he slows down enough for her to open the door and do a jump and roll, and as he turns around and heads back to his warm comfy wife-less bed, she staggers and stumbles to the emergency room entrance, where the kind doctors and nurses spend a night bringing her back to life.
A phone call home the next morning at 6am.
"Can you come pick me up?"
"Why, where are you?"
You'd almost think I made this stuff up, wouldn't you?

This was part of a blog I posted in 2011, and this proves I don't forget everything. So when my crazy heart went galloping in my chest once again, a couple of Thursdays ago, with a bit of dizziness and pain, I didn't even ask him for a ride to the ER. I went in the bedroom where he was fast asleep, and woke him up enough to tell him I was going to the hospital. He replied,

'Grunt.'

Nikkie dropped me off at the ER entrance, and Steve insisted on accompanying me, even though I tried to tell him I would be okay. That was the first of many attempts trying to tell different people I would be okay. For some reason the ER doctors were convinced I was having a heart attack, and blood work after a 6 hour stint in the most uncomfortable bed in the world showed a rise in enzymes - something that happens after something happens to one's heart. Oops. Could I have been wrong?

(My sister Shirley told me about a time she ended up in ER and the doctors there thought she was having a heart attack. She told them, no, she wasn't, but if they didn't let her go home, she definitely would have one. So they let her go, as long as she came back to do a stress test, which she did. She told me the treadmill was set in front of a big open window, on the third floor, and if she stopped running, she would have been catapulted right through the window. Good incentive, I would think.)
I actually thought they were talking about someone else when I overheard two people saying that someone had to be transferred to the Cardiac ward and that someone would see a Cardiologist in the morning. Because I was almost ready to go home.

I offered to walk to the ward, but that idea was vetoed. I guess that was okay, as my fancy gown didn't have a back in it. But I don't really like lying down and being pushed up and down hospital corridors - it seems like everyone is staring at you. I really wanted to haul the blanket over my head, but I figured people would think I was a corpse and that would probably weird them out. Especially in the elevator.

So. Up to the cardiac ward. Dr Tam came to see me in the morning, and informed me that since it was Friday, there would be no tests that day - I would have to wait until Monday. He didn't think it was a good idea to let me go home for the weekend, although I thought that was a very good idea indeed. That's when he told me I had had a series of minor heart attacks. So I told him that it was probably a good idea to stay,since he put it like that.

I really didn't feel like I had a small series of heart attacks, but you can't argue with a doctor. They have the ability to order very painful tests.

Just after he left, a breakfast tray appeared on my bedside table, and I had my first Heart Diet meal - a bran muffin. A really small bran muffin. There was also a box of Bran Flakes, a milk, a juice, and a coffee.

Now, I'm not one to complain, but I don't like Bran Flakes. I really don't. I did eat the muffin, though, and was pleasantly surprised to see coffee in the cup, and even more surprised when I tasted it and found it ... not too bad at all. I've had worse coffee in my travels, that's for sure.

Later on, I was really glad I had eaten the muffin, because then I found out all about hospital Heart food. That began my 4 day diet of tinned fruit, yogurt, Corn Flakes, juice, skim milk and coffee. 

 Friday night's dinner was supposed to be some kind of stew. I did try to eat it - I took what I thought was a piece of potato, but after tasting it, wasn't sure if it was potato. Thanks to the amazing camera on my iPhone, this picture doesn't look as bad as the real thing. However, it still looked better than Saturday's offering.

This was some kind of pasta. I couldn't eat it. It really looked like something the dog threw up. And I've never before considered carrots a side dish for pasta, have you?

Unfortunately, the nurse checked my tray every meal time to see how much I had eaten. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feeling by saying the food was disgusting, so just told her I didn't have much of an appetite. I had to talk louder though, to cover up the sound of my belly rumbling from hunger. At this point, I considered asking Howard to try and sneak a salt shaker through security. 

I actually thought maybe the doctor was right about my poor old heart, when Howard showed up with a pot of flowers. I know how much he hates hospitals - at that point I thought everyone but me thought I was at death's door. 

It's so good being right!

.... stay tuned .....