Ka-boom

So we’re off on our long-planned drive across Canada. With the Prius, this seemed to be a good time as any to see the “Prairie provinces.” Living in southern Washington afforded us the opportunity to see something of our adopted state on the way to the big Maple Leaf to the north…. Since we see Mt. St. Helens every day on our way home…well, at least on the days when there is a clear sky…we drove to the north side of the mountain, into the “blast zone.”….30 years after and the devastation is still so very evident…Spirit Lake is still clogged with logs and trees either stand bare of life like white sticks pointing skyward or strewn across the landscape like some giant game of “Pick up sticks” had been played by the gods. We stopped in Randle for lunch at the Big Bottom restaurant…Naturally, the name intrigued me…I was going to ask how it got its name when the wide-bodied waitress came to the table…I demurred…much to the relief and probable surprise of Carol. Randle sits about 25 miles directly north of the mountain, and the waitress said that the sun was totally blotted out by the ash and it was so dark, you literally couldn’t see your hand in front of your face…It was like that for 48 hours, and everybody had to go to shelters in a town safely away from the falling ash and pumice…When they could return, there was 8 inches (24 cms) of ash covering everything, which was like ice when it got wet and slippery… Turns out the Big Bottom got its name from the fact that it is bottom land between two mountains, and it is big…hence its name. Randle is a combination cattle area and logging…the lone patron of the restaurant/bar was a member of the former who sat on his bar stool staring at his drink. His black Stetson hat never left his head and his boots klunked on the foot railing while the two big eyes on the back of his shirt seemed to be continually staring at me. The drive gave us ample indication of the varied scenery in northern Washington…lush forests, stark desert-like nothingness of the Columbia River gorge, and the fertile lands of the Wenatchee Valley, which proclaims itself to be the “Apple capital of the world,” and I wouldn’t dare to doubt it…..every other block of town and seemingly every mile of the highway is littered with signs which say: “Fruit Stand ahead.” Or “Fresh fruit.”…etc….Huge packing sheds dot the landscape, and at this time of the year the trees are loaded with fruit….literally thousands of poles support the overladen limbs of the trees to keep them from snapping. Further along there are mountains looking like huge boulders of primordial ooze which seemingly were belched from the depths of mother earth. 10 hours of driving and lollygagging along the way put us at our goal of Pateros, Wa. A lovely stay with a lake-side room and a very nice meal put us in a good mood for our day’s efforts…The following morning drive was highlighted by the border town of “Oroville.” We had lived in Oroville, California while I was growing up, and I delightedly got to call my mother to proclaim that I was in Oroville….Three times she said to me…”Okay, now tell me where you really are.” Always fun to tweak the iron lady….something I’ve been doing for 65 of my 71 years. Crossing the border brought a renewed energy….sort of a “let the adventure begin,” feeling…. The sign said that the border crossing wait was 10 minutes, and it’s good to see that even the border control people have a sense of humor…30 minutes later we crossed into Canada after insuring the Canadian official that we didn’t have firearms, weren’t carrying any packages for anybody else, didn’t have over $10,000 cash (we counted to be sure we were under the limit…LOL), and were then told to proceed…Carol remarked….”remember the old days when you just showed your driver’s license and were waved through…” Indeed, they were the old days. Welcome to the new world. Immediately, I remembered why I love Canada….there is a pride in civic presentation…flower baskets hang from city lampposts to brighten the walk around town….fields planted with crops have never-the-less had the highway side of the field planted in colorful rows of black-eyed-susans , all to make the drive more colorful, and the general neatness of everything…from the front yards, to the roadside stands, to the city streets….Helpful people giving advice as to directions, pleasant shop attendants from all around the commonwealth made our entry into our neighbor’s land of the north a most welcoming morning. We noticed how much more active the Canadians were, immediately upon crossing the border there were hordes of bicyclers…serious types with team racing jerseys to families just out riding along, training wheels included…runners dotted the paths along the way, and it just seemed much more alive and relaxed than just south. But mostly, I remembered how I like the Canadian sense of “self.”…they don’t carry the swagger or self-importance of their neighbors to the south…they don’t think the world revolves around them…to be sure, they are a proud nation, proud of their heritage and their land…but it is just toned down a notch, much to my liking. So we begin our Canadian journey..one that we’ve looked forward to….let the adventure begin. It won’t be exotic like Mongolia…it won’t be wondrous like Uzbekistan, but it will, I’m sure, be filled with great people who we can, and will, exchange our ideas with and from whom we have much to learn. Let it roll. Carol and Jim