We went to town to buy postcards, write them, send them, and have lunch. There were two general stores. We stopped at the first one. It had some ominous looking signs (see photos) that suggested either the proprietor had a great sense of humor or was himself a jerk. We went inside and our clothes were immediately saturated with the smell of cigar smoke. We might have to throw these clothes away. The store just had that air (not counting the cigars) that said, I think we really need to leave. When we saw the KKK badges, we were certain.
The second store was its direct opposite: clean, friendly, well-lit, and it had an old dog named Daisy on the front porch. Yep, our kind of place. A sweet, well-fed dog is always a good sign. Daisy wandered in with us and held out for a treat from a white-bearded Alaskan straight out of central casting before heading back to the porch. We did our part for the Alaskan economy, then asked if we could eat our PBJ sandwiches on his porch while we wrote out our postcards, and he said, be my guest, ladies.
K and I drove back the half mile to the post office. We were lucky: it was Wednesday, and the mail plane comes Monday and Thursday, weather permitting. That meant there was an outside chance our postcards would reach their recipients before we arrived back home.
Finally, there was nothing for it but to head back to Canada. There really wasn’t anything left to do in Hyder. We headed back, and although we breezed into the Hyder without any border crossing, we did have to go through customs to get back into Canada.
On the loneliest road back to Kitwanga, we saw a momma bear up on the berm beside the road. She had 3 fluff ball cubs with her, two of which stood on their stubby little hind legs to watch us pass. When you are traveling via unenclosed vehicles, you do not stop and may consider only slowing marginally. Later as we set up camp, all four of us agreed that the fleeting glimpse of the mother bear and cubs was at least as thrilling as seeing the bears fish at Fish Creek. Every hard won mile of this trip was worth it for this day alone.
We found our campground, staffed by two little old ladies. We had been thrilled on this trip that Canadian currency is so similar to our own. However, they are more advanced than us in that they have done away with dollar bills. They have dollar coins and two dollar coins that are actually in common circulation (when is the last time you purchased anything with Susan B. Anthony or Sacagawea?) We asked the ladies if the site had laundry. Oh yah, it takes loonies.
We had been in Canada 5 days, and somehow we had failed to discover until now that they call their dollar coins “Loonies.” The two dollar coins are “Toonies.” Don’t you love that?
All the campgrounds so far had specific hours the laundry was open – they usually close at 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. I asked the pair, “Do you have hours for the laundry?”
They looked at each other. “Well, the washer takes about 20 minutes, and the dryer takes more like 40,” one replied.
I decided maybe I shouldn’t ask more questions, so we went to find our site. Our number was up a hill, in a lot of about 16 spaces, 2 of which were occupied. The ladies had put us right next to another RV where a couple was all set up on their picnic table having dinner. They were sauced out of their gourds. Although good natured about it, they were clearly irked that the ladies had out of this vast area, plunked us down right beside them. Back I went to talk with the ladies about moving us to a different spot.
One of the thrills of camping on this trip has been the people watching. If you like nothing better than to amuse yourself with observing and interacting with the vast array of personalities available to the human population, I highly recommend camping. We have met some true characters, an extraordinary percentage of whom were wearing yellow Crocs. If I were the academic type, I’d look into a dissertation on the correlation.
The second store was its direct opposite: clean, friendly, well-lit, and it had an old dog named Daisy on the front porch. Yep, our kind of place. A sweet, well-fed dog is always a good sign. Daisy wandered in with us and held out for a treat from a white-bearded Alaskan straight out of central casting before heading back to the porch. We did our part for the Alaskan economy, then asked if we could eat our PBJ sandwiches on his porch while we wrote out our postcards, and he said, be my guest, ladies.
K and I drove back the half mile to the post office. We were lucky: it was Wednesday, and the mail plane comes Monday and Thursday, weather permitting. That meant there was an outside chance our postcards would reach their recipients before we arrived back home.
Finally, there was nothing for it but to head back to Canada. There really wasn’t anything left to do in Hyder. We headed back, and although we breezed into the Hyder without any border crossing, we did have to go through customs to get back into Canada.
On the loneliest road back to Kitwanga, we saw a momma bear up on the berm beside the road. She had 3 fluff ball cubs with her, two of which stood on their stubby little hind legs to watch us pass. When you are traveling via unenclosed vehicles, you do not stop and may consider only slowing marginally. Later as we set up camp, all four of us agreed that the fleeting glimpse of the mother bear and cubs was at least as thrilling as seeing the bears fish at Fish Creek. Every hard won mile of this trip was worth it for this day alone.
We found our campground, staffed by two little old ladies. We had been thrilled on this trip that Canadian currency is so similar to our own. However, they are more advanced than us in that they have done away with dollar bills. They have dollar coins and two dollar coins that are actually in common circulation (when is the last time you purchased anything with Susan B. Anthony or Sacagawea?) We asked the ladies if the site had laundry. Oh yah, it takes loonies.
We had been in Canada 5 days, and somehow we had failed to discover until now that they call their dollar coins “Loonies.” The two dollar coins are “Toonies.” Don’t you love that?
All the campgrounds so far had specific hours the laundry was open – they usually close at 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. I asked the pair, “Do you have hours for the laundry?”
They looked at each other. “Well, the washer takes about 20 minutes, and the dryer takes more like 40,” one replied.
I decided maybe I shouldn’t ask more questions, so we went to find our site. Our number was up a hill, in a lot of about 16 spaces, 2 of which were occupied. The ladies had put us right next to another RV where a couple was all set up on their picnic table having dinner. They were sauced out of their gourds. Although good natured about it, they were clearly irked that the ladies had out of this vast area, plunked us down right beside them. Back I went to talk with the ladies about moving us to a different spot.
One of the thrills of camping on this trip has been the people watching. If you like nothing better than to amuse yourself with observing and interacting with the vast array of personalities available to the human population, I highly recommend camping. We have met some true characters, an extraordinary percentage of whom were wearing yellow Crocs. If I were the academic type, I’d look into a dissertation on the correlation.
Daily Recap: 310 miles, ALASKA! Then back to Kitwanga, British Columbia
Posts
Looks like you homed right in on s---head headquarters. I guess they warned you, fair enough. :)
ReplyDeleteChicken and Sarah is now my desktop. I'm probably the only one of us who likes her.
Not true. I like her myself. In fact, I took the picture. I don't think she is ready for high office (although we could do worse) and she tries a little too hard and a little obviously for great soundbytes, but I think she's great. She was clearly used by her party, and not even effectively, I might add, and it has thrown her entire life into turmoil and scrutiny that I wouldn't wish on anyone.
ReplyDeleteI think she's learning a lot, quickly. It bothers me how absolutely hateful and unhinged people have been about her--but that's a subject for a different blog. There's one called The Reclusive Leftist, a radical feminist blog, that addresses this in depth--good reading.
ReplyDeleteI'm looking forward to seeing if she gets it together and makes a positive difference in politics.
Just curious...do you think the "little old ladies" were as old as me? Or is "little old ladies" a term defined more by size, attitude and bearing than by age? :)
ReplyDeleteYou're not old, Mom! Definitely defined by attitude and bearing.
ReplyDelete