Left Burns Lake on our new schedule of 8:30AM departures (dreaming, I know). We arrived at Mount Robson info center and took in the cloud shrouded hills in the background. This is the entry point to the Jasper area, still 100km up the road but with Robson on the left (4000+ m) and Mount Terry Fox on the right it forms an entry gate towards the east. Mount Robson is obscured more than 75% of the time but we did get a few glimpses and they suggested awesomeness awaited. We arrived in Jasper at 4:30PM (now on mountain time) so driving was on mostly good roads.

We headed to the info center in this cute little town and spoke with a park employee. He gave us all the info we needed, formal and informal as well as where to eat and drink. He also filled us in on the losses of park jobs under Harper, over 20%, and found that although he was able to keep his job he would be laid off in November each year, to return the following April. Still a fun job but hard to make a living like this. He was an interesting character and provided some very good advice on what to see and what to do. By now, the good weather from the south had pushed into the area and we were treated to near perfect skies in all directions. We headed to Pyramid Lake for a short hike then to the park at Whistlers. A line up scared us a little but we managed to get in, just. We sat at our new site and immediately called the Canada Parks reservation line to get a spot for the following night, a Friday!

Pyramid Lake, Jasper

We then headed for dinner at Papa Georgios, named after one of the earliest European folks in Jasper. I had escargot and a wild game burger, Carla has Elk vol-au-vent and a beet and strawberry salad to start. Yummm.

As already mentioned, Jasper is to Banff as Sonoma was to Napa… less formal, laid back, people having fun and doing outdoorsy things and just fun. Very informal and nice…

Woke up in rain again at the aforementioned crappy receiving RV park, not to be confused with the crappy departing RV park. Hot shower sort of worked, nothing else. We headed in to town to see the Sunken Gardens with Phil and Diane, our last day together.

A sinking feeling we will soon be breaking up again…

Then we headed off to the Northwest Cannery, a very interesting side trip. We were keen on the tour and lunch as it was now close to 1:30PM but lunch is a weekend thing, our loss on a weekday. After spending an hour and a half it was time for Carla and Sean to start flying down the road. The tour was interesting but had it been a horse, it would have been shot!

A check earlier in the morning saw us with more than 5,000 km to cover by 20 June, our return date. So off down route 19, the Yellowhead Trail we went towards Terrace and on to Jasper. Phil as you know is the fisherman of the group and while headed to Terrace at least, they then turn north towards Alaska which admittedly has great fishing but route 19 follows the inlets of the Skeena and numerous lakes and eventually the Fraser. All the little towns along the way east have mottos like, Plenty of Rainbows (referring to the fish of course…) and the town of Houston had the biggest fly rod in the main park that I have ever seen, perhaps 20m, hard to say.

We arrived at Burns Lake at about 9:00PM and stayed in a municipal park. This park is small yet well maintained and free with firewood available to boot. This one was situated on Burns Lake, a huge lake perhaps 20 miles long. There was a dock and very nice washrooms available from 07:00AM to 11:00PM. There were just 3 of us in the park that held perhaps 20-25 sites. These municipal parks were a gem unknown to us before. Not sure how we missed them all this time.

Left a cold, rainy and thoroughly depressing Port Hardy. I am sure it has redeeming value but it escaped me as we made our way to the ferry terminal at 5:00AM It may be that the last thing you remember when you leave a conveniently located RV park to cross on a ferry and arrive at another conveniently located RV park is that the owners of said RV parks don’t give a rat’s ass as they have a captive audience and couldn’t care less. For the sake of tourism in BC and other places with ferries, I suggest they do something. By simple math, at least 30% of the sites were occupied by folks coming and going on the ferries and that is a guaranteed income. Location, location, location… Enough…

The ferry ride was great, more of a poor-man’s Alaska cruise where you get to bring your RV, albeit for a hefty charge. But the route showed just how picturesque the wilds of northern BC can be with just a few small villages like Bella Bella, fishing lodges, lots of waterfalls and many, many fishing boats, very nice.

The ferry crossing was great. I am sure Phil covered it in detail including the lighthouse rant, too funny.

60$ extra for princess seats on a 1,350$ ferry ride was worth every cent!

As Sonoma is to Napa, Jasper is to Banff. If Jasper was a state it would be Oregon. Now in Banff having breakfast at the Banff Springs Hotel having a super brunch with too much food. Beautiful place. Spent yesterday coming down the Icefields Parkway. It is supposed to be THE most beautiful drive in the world, maybe an overstatement, but certainly as good or better than the Oz Great Ocean Road, Dalmatian Coastal Route or even our Cabot Trail. A must do for anyone in this part of the world!

Will post pics later with time. On to east of Medicine Hat today, yeehaw!

Day 71 – June 13

Despite the increasingly early sunrise our late night movie viewing led to a later than normal start up. After breakfast we headed into Terrace to visit the fly fishing shop that the camp manager had recommended the previous night. The staff were very knowledgeable and helped me to decipher the BC fishing regulations which have no equal in terms of convolution and complexity other than possibly The DaVinci Code. Different regulations based not only on type of license, location, species of fish, tidal or non tidal waters, time of year, section of river or lake, even day of the week makes for a minefield of doubt for a non local when considering if it is safe to step into a particular stretch of water.

I was directed back to the area of our campsite on Ferry Island and given clear directions where to fish and what flies to use, some of which I purchased in the store. Diane dropped me off while she went to buy groceries and get gas, with a plan to rendevous 2 hours later where she had dropped me. I worked my way down a path to the river and came upon a fisherman sitting in a chair, tackle box open, line taut and far out in the river, his rod loosely held in his two hands – all the while sound asleep.

Resisting the huge temptation to yank on his line and watch him spring to action I moved further down river where some more animated fishermen were seated. A conversation with the next fisherman in line, a woman with a very large gaff within close reach (by the way in my lexicon anyone who fishes is a fisherman, I refuse to use the politically correct ‘fisher’, it’s just stupid and I have yet to meet female fisherman who takes any offence at being called a fisherman) provided me with more information. She pointed me towards where the fly fishermen went, clearly a lower species in her mind, based I assume on the fact that you can’t either sit down or fall asleep while doing it.

Five minutes later I was carefully positioning myself in the murky and very fast flowing waters of the Skeena with my sinking tip line and a monstrosity of a pink marabou fly – I was up to my ass in ice cold water fishing the Skeena and feeling good. I won’t bore you describing with the inner calmness that overcomes me when I fish but two hours passed quickly interrupted only by the routine of changing flies, unfortunately not by the violent tug of some monster salmon. I returned to meet Diane for lunch having had a perfectly fine morning of fishing, not catching.

After lunch we stopped for gas and headed east again along the #16. The overcast skies of the morning cleared and once again we were treated to the spectacular scenery of the Skeena River valley. Several kilometres of the otherwise nicely paved road was under construction and only gravel surface leading to a drive whose visibility was equivalent to the worst kind of Nova Scotia blizzard driving. At times we could barely make out the tail lights of the vehicle less than 30 meters in front of us.

Our target was Meziadin Junction where there was a provincial park, so at Kitwanga we hung a left and headed north. Strangely, despite the fact that since Vancouver we had been working our way north, this was the first time it really sank in that we were truly heading north, into the scenery that several years earlier, on our trip to Whitehorse, the seeds for this trip had been planted.

Heading north

We arrived at the Meziadin Lake Provincial Park at 6:00. It was an absolutely beautiful park with sites right on the lake and a backdrop of snow capped mountains. We quickly picked a site right on the shore as there were several vehicles circling and we didn’t know how many were available. I stepped out to direct Diane into the site and was beset with mosquitoes, they were on my naked arms in an instant, like white on rice. Diane handed me the bug spray and promised not to set foot outside the BRT until they were gone. The camp host came around to register us and advised we should get a site with some wind. It took two move moves before I scouted out a site right in the wind and by wind I mean gale force wind that rocked the rv but kept the mosquitoes at bay.

We were dry camping but the site had wifi, go figure, so we were able to catch up on email while hiding from the bugs which somehow still continued to materialize inside until we figured out they were getting in through the vents in the cab, a problem soon remedied with towels.

Day 70 – June 12

Similar to it’s Vancouver Island counterpart, the RV Campground had no redeeming feature other than its geographic location. As the previous night, its promised wifi was non existent, there was only one dumping station, the on site stations having been long abandoned, the shared picnic table would have collapsed under the weight of a chunky sparrow and the water was foul tasting. Other than that it was a great place to sleep.

We headed into Prince Rupert for coffee and wifi where we spent the best part of an hour getting caught up with email, paying some bills, catching up on the adventures of the LRT and posting to the blog – we were several days behind. Blog posting by the BRT will probably become more sporadic as we move into the more sparsely populated north.

Based on positive reviews by Jane and Ike as they moved through Prince Rupert we decided to visit the Northern Pacific Cannery Historic Site, but not before we explored the Sunken Gardens in downtown Prince Rupert. Following somewhat disjointed directions from someone on the sidewalk that offered help when they saw us consulting a map we eventually located the gardens. As expected, the Sunken Gardens, were built in a amphitheatre like depression. Although small, with two full time staff the beds were well kept, and as we expected at home the rhododendrons were just at their peak.

A Prince Rupert totem

The Sunken Garden

The latter part of the road to the Cannery was a bit rough, possibly a warm up for what lies ahead of us, and we arrived just as the 2:00 tour was to begin. There were two parts to the tour, the first being the industrial part and the second being the residential part. Our tour guide, Darwin, was just gaining experience in leading the tour and was prone to be conversational so our anticipated 45 minute tour quickly became over an hour long for just the first part. We had planned to have lunch there based on Jane and Ike’s recommendation but were disappointed to find out that the restaurant was only opened on weekends until summer hours started.

As this was the day that Sean and Carla had planned to head east to Banff and Jasper and then home they began to feel the pressure to get on the road and as we were planning to only go as far as Terrace, not as far as they had hoped to travel that day, we said our goodbyes there. Although we knew, since Sean and Carla joined us on May 1 at the Grand Canyon, that this day was coming, it has seemed to have come all too quickly. On a trip of this length, the company of good friends is a great comfort at the end of a day. The shared experiences seemed all the fuller viewed through their eyes as well as ours and we will sorely miss their company.

Diane and I stayed for a bit more of the tour but we too eventually had to leave the quickly decreasing tour group before the completion of the first phase. The cannery tour was a great insight into the history behind the once thriving salmon fishery and the related cannery industry that, in its hey day, saw factories like this one all along the shores of the Skeena River. The tour laid out the history of the fish processing industry from its earliest days of hand processing and cutting the tin cans from sheet metal and lead soldering them on site to the more modern machinery that displaced hundreds of the Chinese and First Nations labourers.

Frozen in time

The cannery dock

The net loft

After leaving the tour we headed east, an unusual direction for us, towards Terrace, where we planned to stay for the night. The trip along the #16 highway was an unexpected treat. Closely following the course of the westwardly flowing Skeena the road runs at bottom of a steep sided valley. On each side the hills climb to their snow capped peaks, the runoff of which feeds the many waterfalls that punctuated our route. The whole trip felt strangely reminiscent of our voyage up the inside passage of two days earlier.

There was a time in this fair land when…..

The Skeena River

Even with frequent stops for photos we made it to Terrace by 6:30. The first RV spot we checked out, even though recommended in our BC camping guide book and having a full barrage of amenities, including cable TV, just didn’t feel right. There was a single vacancy but the sites were small and unattractive so we moved on in search of another site listed in our guide. On our way to that site we ran across a municipal campground on Ferry Island, 2 minutes from the centre of Terrace and although only electricity was provided on the site we felt much more comfortable on the large well treed site.

While Diane did her back exercises I scouted out access to the Skeena for the following morning. As we were getting a little low on groceries and frankly, ambition, we followed the recommendation of the camp manager and ordered pizza from Checkers Pizza, which delivered right to our site – a first for us. Delivery was prompt and arrived at 8:00 as we tuned in the first overtime period of the Chicago vs Boston Stanley Cup playoff. Reception was particularly poor, taking us some time to determine which coloured blob was which team but the audio was fine.

After the game we decided to finish watching our serial instalment movie before going to bed, still a little sad after now having parted with all of our travelling companions. Road trips of this duration and length, now 70 days and over 16,000 kilometres and counting are not without their risks. Travelling together in the ‘armadillo’ offered some comfort that everyone was ok and we were there to help each other even if it was just a piece of rope you needed, thanks Ike, or a hand with a heavy bike rack, thanks Sean. Travelling alone not only removes some of that safety net but also leads your mind to thinking about the welfare of your former companions, whom at home you may not have thought of for days. Strong bonds get formed through common experiences. Each day we will wish the LRT and the MRT fair winds and following seas.

Phil and Diane left earlyish for more attempts as catching something, anything, seriously… since Phil imparted the very basics of fly fishing to me a week or so ago, he hasn’t seen so much as a guppy. Desperation is setting in and although I have recommended the tried and true dynamite method to see what comes up, he has so far refused, such a sporting guy he is 

The RTs fueling around! Guess who pays less?

After a decent breakfast with Casey & Alex, the four of us left for the beach where we were treated to many school aged kids arriving for the day. The beach is perfect for kids with many wading pools left from the retreating tide.

And in the background on the Strait of Georgia were the first of the Round the Vancouver Island Race boats (Vancouver 360 Race) heading north in light airs with the snow-capped mountains in the background.

Big boat, big hills!

From there it was off to play mini-golf. As many of you may know Carla is an unrivaled expert in this sport. We have played in many countries and I usually see twice as many strokes to sink balls as Carla does. But it was not to be, the spell was broken and she came in 4th (of 4). Alex won after struggling to keep his ball on the astro-turf through the first 9 holes.

He’s the big wiener!

A picnic with left-over spaghetti ala Barry in followed, in absolutely gorgeous weather, the nicest since California in fact! And then it was another parting of the ways (it never gets any easier no matter how many times we do it) as Casey and Alex headed back to Victoria (they are in Halifax 02 September) and we headed north to Port Hardy to rejoin the BRT for the ferry ride to Prince Rupert the following day.

Bye for now!

Day 69 – June 11

4:30 came early and as we are now further north it was already light outside. A quickly stowed bed and passing on breakfast allowed us to get the bikes stowed on board and wheels rolling by 5:15. We weren’t the first vehicle to arrive but it soon became obvious that this was not going to be a full capacity trip.

After having our measurements taken several times and our ID’s checked twice ( I think it would be easier to sneak onto the space shuttle) my tea brewing was rudely interrupted by the loading announcement. We had opted for the lounge section of the ferry at a $35 surcharge. After paying an arm and a leg for passage another $35 seemed like fingernail clippings. The Aurora Lounge provided reclining seats and a panoramic view of the voyage. As this was going to be a 17 hour passage we opted for as much comfort as possible. Without only about 30 passengers opting for the lounge accommodations it was only at about one quarter of its capacity and provided not only comfortable but spacious and quiet passage.

A misty start to the day

Shortly after setting sail in the rain we passed a lighthouse, identified on the taped ‘point of interest’ announcements that note highlights of the passing landscapes. The announcement went on to emphasize how the majority of the lighthouses on this coast were staffed by ‘dedicated’ personnel guarding the lives of the sailors and fishermen who made these waters their home. For an east coaster, where for years all of our lighthouses have been staffed by dedicated computers and solar panels, that was a bit of a rub. Are the BC coast rocks harder than ours? Is the greatest risk to sea craft on the east coast that of careening off our rubberized coastline and unexpectedly rebounding over to Ireland? Possibly west coast sailors and fishermen get lonely and require the security of a staffed lighthouse in case they feel the need to drop in for a mid afternoon tea and crumpet on rainy days. When I get home I’m going to send a letter off to my man Steve in Ottawa and ask him to explain. I might even suggest that re staffing some of the east coast lighthouses might be a great job for some of his now surplus senators. I can see a speedo clad Mike Duffy standing at night with a flashlight on Cavendish Beach, warning sailors to beware of the supervised swimming area. No one would dare question where he lived then.

A ‘staffed’ lighthouse

About 3 hours into the trip (possibly earlier as a nap thing sort of happened) patches of the skies began to clear and our visibility of the many passing islands and cliffs increased. At the same time we were served a package of two Peek Frean cookies, a mouthful of bits and bites and a bottle of water – the perks of being in the lounge were really starting to add up.

The route of the ferry wound through the labyrinth of islands that form the west coast of British Columbia. We passed close by communities with familiar names like Namu (where the first live Orca whale was captured), Bella Bella and Grenville Channel all the while watching the numerous commercial and recreational fishing boats that ply the icy blue waters in pursuit of the many salmon that call these waters home.

Clearing skies

In some areas the boat passed through channels so narrow that it felt like you could throw a rock to shore. As the day wore on our weather held and from the luxury of our reclining lounge chairs we watched the coast slip by like some meditation video on the most amazing flat screen TV ever. Many of the mountains and hills we passed were still topped with snow and their now melting caps fed the countless waterfalls that cascaded down the mountainsides to the sea.

Waterfalls and…..

More waterfalls

As we passed through the narrow and steep sided Grenfell Straits we enjoyed a lovely buffet dinner in the restaurant. The light passenger load of our off season travel afforded no waiting and a window seat with a great view of what at time seemed an uncomfortably close coast line. As the sun began to dip behind the peaks that lined our course the mountains and islands in the distance began to blend into monochromatic serigraph like images.

And so it ends.

Although the cruise had started out in rain with little optimism of clearing, the weather gods had granted us a favour in sharing the beautiful images of this coast, memories that will stay with us for many years.

Following a quick disembarkation from the Northern Expedition we drove two minutes to the ‘RV Campgrounds’ where we found two adjacent sites with water and power at $37 each, a price that typically would indicate a fuller level of service and quality of amenity. However as it was approaching 11:00 pm on a 4:30 am start day all we wanted was to get to sleep so after extricating the bikes and rack from the beast we had a record fast hook-up (after 69 days 8 think I am ready for the RV hookup Olympics) and went to bed.

An early rise (OK, kidding) saw us having breakfast and on the road promptly at 12:00. A long winding drive out left behind a sunny Tofino for uncertain weather ahead with low cloud, rain, and cooler temperatures.

The Westie turned into Limo-mode to chauffeur the parental units about Tofino

We were heading for Miracle Beach on the east coast of the Island, another recommendation from Alex’s father. Looking at the skies, a miracle is what might be needed. But we managed to recover the sunshine we were used to as we descended from the hills towards the far shore. Miracle Beach is on Georgia Strait and is one in a long series of beaches along the coast just north of Comox.

The Beach (it is a miracle it isn’t raining)

The provincial park was great with big trees and wide spots for putting more vehicles on them. We managed to get the BRT on a spot next to the MRT with the LRT (Casey and Alex listed as the ‘extra’ vehicle). The park ranger was a happy sort and collected directly from the campers. His approach was heralded by much singing.

Big campsite!

The group settled In to a routine where Diane did back exercises, Phil practiced ukulele (he had an appreciative audience of rapt Aussies for this practice session),

Phil workin’ the campsite crowd!

Carla organized snacks and Sean started the fire with leftover free firewood from the Tofino campground. We deployed our awning, a rarity and just in time as the rain caught up to us. Alex and Casey had escaped for the beach upon arrival but were now focused on avoiding as much rain as possible and came running back. We had more food, wine, rum and played rumoli for the first time in the trip. With 6 it is a lot of fun and kept us entertained for a few hours before sleep enveloped the players.

Well the Crystal Cove RV & Camping Area was a hit! It is like a KOA in terms of facilities but done with impeccable taste with complete greenery separating campsites and all open areas seem to have some sort of gardening. The beach is excellent with some shelter from offshore islands, but still rugged enough to provide some nice vistas. A fair amount of like-minded folks were also enjoying the warm sands and dogs were everywhere playing in the surf, even real-sized ones (sorry Beau)! So we went to the beach and played until we got quite hungry.

Using seaweed for a skipping rope, Casey gets some air!

I thought big sunglasses were for old people?

Always room for one more on the tired horse swing.

Late in the day Phil & Diane and the BRT rejoined our group in Crystal Cove for the night. More food, more wine & cards of course.