Then there are times when there isn’t some moron acting shocked and alarmed about having to take off his shoes at the security checkpoint, you win the lottery and find a completely empty coffee station, and you’re seated by your KIDS on the plane instead of some obnoxious stranger. Don’t laugh. It can happen. It did happen. To us. On Monday. And then the pilot emerged from the cockpit, casually took the intercom, and said “Well, I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news”.
Ten minutes later we were told we probably should de-plane while they fixed the problem because we’d be more comfortable that way. Four hours and fifteen minutes later we got back on the plane. Four hours and twenty minutes after that, we touched down in Seattle. Seventy-five minutes after that, we pulled the rental van into the hotel parking lot. And at 3:30 a.m. (5:30 a.m., College Station time), I finally went to sleep. Happy Birthday to me.
Three years ago, we spent most of my Big Day driving west to east across the state of Wyoming. I hadn’t thought much at all about turning 40 leading up to that time, but southern Wyoming gives one a lot of opportunity to pause and reflect on things. It was really terrific ... but I think this year’s experience was even better. What caused it? I dunno. Maybe (probably) it was random. Maybe it was because Paige and Reagan thought it would be amusing to decorate my birthday cake with the numbers -- 4 18 15 16 23 42. Yes, I am serious. (If that doesn’t mean anything to you I won’t bother explaining, and if it does then I don’t need to explain.) Or maybe it was just the travel gods’ way of getting all of the bad karma out of the way so that the next 2 1/2 weeks could be totally amazing. As of now, I’m going with Door #3.
Anyway, after sleeping later than usual on Tuesday (duh), we covered about 350 miles and are settled in at an interesting little place just outside of Wells Gray Provincial Park, near Clearwater, British Columbia. Our digs look like they were built in about 1946, renovated in maybe 1957, cryogenically sealed, and reintroduced to the public this week. The place is eerily reminiscent of something but I can’t quite figure out what it is. We’re on the shore of a pretty little lake, so a good part of me thinks it probably was used in the filming of one of the Friday the 13th movies. But another part of me fully expects to step outside and see some random pipe-smoking guy with a flattop haircut, a plain white t-shirt, and thick, black-framed glasses sitting on our deck listening to a Brooklyn Dodgers game on the radio. So basically it’s either a horror movie waiting to happen or just your everyday time warp. I’m leaning toward the latter, because the color scheme is white and a very soft lime green (with the obligatory beige stove) and the bathroom most definitely is early Leave it to Beaver. Hunter -- who hates change more than anyone I have ever known except possibly Paige’s brother -- is in heaven and the rest of us are happy enough with it.
We’ve not had much opportunity for action yet, but a few of us did go for an hour-long drive after dinner tonight to sorta get our bearings before hiking tomorrow. We crossed paths with a few deer and a mid-sized black bear. I told Hadley that a couple of the areas in Wells Gray had been closed last week because of rogue bear activity (true story) and her response was “Really?? Cool.” Three years ago in Glacier (and perhaps even last year in the Colorado Rockies) it would’ve taken a fair amount of coaxing to get her on the trails at all once that little bit of knowledge was circulated, so I’ll count that as progress.
We’re here until Thursday morning, at which point we’ll trek another couple hundred miles to the northeast and spend a few nights in Jasper National Park. Apparently, time warps and WiFi don’t exactly get along so the service where we are right now is spotty at best... but I’ll get this thing posted when I can.
Peace,
Mike
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