One Hundred Mile House and Bow Hunting

What a rush it is to get these expeditions ready.  Expeditions they are. I just regret that I have only a few days because the preparation for weeks and days is about the same.  The plan was for the the 4 musketeers, Tom, Gilbert the Cockapoo, Laura and me,  to head north for the long weekend ostensibly to bow hunt mule deer. While I've been blessed to shoot deer and partridge with bow and arrow, that is the rarity, mostly this opening bow hunt weekend is more "wildlife viewing".
Early in the week Laura informed me that the outlook for the weekend was rain everywhere.   Tenting didn't seem that attractive with that forecast. We thought of taking the RV but the Ford F350 engine glitch remains.  $2000 of maintenance later and the truck wrench icon screams imminent death with uphill acceleration.
Still One Hundred Mile House is one of the most incredible places for wildlife  with nearby Lac La Hache great for fishing.
Laura was still up for tenting, trooper that she is.  However, when I emailed her the website for Ramada Limitted, I got a text back saying immediately, "that looks fabulous and  would be nicer if it's raining."
While Laura and I had a short but hectic week of work, with the increasing distress of  the overburdened health care system, Tom was doing his best to ensure that the Ford and the Honda 500 Pioneer were ready for action. It was a good division of labour.
I didn't get out of the office till 8 pm. Any day out of the office means 2 for  preparation and payback. There's no robot doctor. What once was  once a steady stream of work has for many if not most of us become a constant torrent. The paperwork has multiplied exponentially, with a similiar rise in laws, minefields, dragons, protocols and players.  Most of the newbies really  are just overpaid critics without accountability and jolly good at spending other peoples money.   With all the hostility and workplace toxicity, physician suicides at an all time high, doctors threatening strikes, patient waitlists till forever, nurses unhappy, unrealistic demands,  beaurocratic vampires, impossible political promises. and public hangings , shame and hypocrisy;  every weekend away is like a blood transfusion.  I come back to the front revived ready for the next declaration of cutbacks and shortages.
I finally arrived home to see  Laura pulling her Eagle Ridge wheeled luggage bag out of  her  little red Smart Car.  The skies opened and the streets flooded. Tom was already at the RV sitting under the awning.
"The Ford and Honda are ready!" he said. Great news.
"Whose for pizza?"I asked.
Laura and Tom nodded while Gilbert's tail began to wag at the word 'pizza'.  Dogs know the human words that are important to them.
Canadian Pizza brought us the best meatlovers Pizza.   With the propane heater turned on and heavy rain beating on the roof we ate ravenously, sharing tidbits with Gilbert.  We watched a TV episode of the Big Bang Theory,  this generations  Seinfeld cum Friends mix. My parents watched Honeymooners in their day.
Morning early we loaded  the truck with our bows and cammo gear.  We stopped again at Cabelas for arrows and a new hard cross bow case for my Barnet Compound Cross Bow. My Excalibur Max has it's own soft case.  I'd hoped the Barnett would take an attached quiver like my Excalibur but it didn't. I got Tom a canvas hip hung quiver like the one my ex wife had made me when  I'd had a Browning compound crossbow.  More arrows and razor blade points.  Also a white tail deer tag, just in case.  Laura got a conservative comfy tartan camo pj set.  I got a couple of winter sleeping bags.  Good to 20 below. It's past the summer sleeping bag weather so if we do choose to tent again we're now ready.  At Tom's we hitched up my AB boat with the Honda 30 hp hoping to get in some lake fishing.
Tom drove us up and out of the Valley.  Leaving the rain forrest and coming up into fresh air and tumbleweed country of Ashcroft and Cache Creek is always a joy.
At Clinton we headed off the highway  onto the logging roads.  Immediately we saw a huge female moose moseying across the road.  After that we saw a big mule deer.  It was black bear season and we had tags but the black bear we saw next seemed  to know it was safe in the Provincial Park on the other side of a fence.  It was just standing there looking at Gilbert and us all.  But I don't take shots unless I'm absolutely certain it's legal. The consequence of breaking the BC Conservation Law is that all of one's gear can be confiscated on the spot, ATV's Boats, Rifles etc.

"I think of hunting as a sacred matter. Everything must come together in a Godly way.  Sure we could shoot the bear  and no one would be the wiser. But we both know 'we'd know'. "  We're probably past the park boundary but it just doesn't seem right, " I said.
"There's  still the fence, " Tom said.
BC Hunting regs say that you can only hunt on 'private land' with permission.  In the past, the land had to be 'posted', i.e. 'no hunting signs' but now the onus is on the hunter to know. Even if we  were outside the park boundary, and shot the bear,we could be breaking the law. We didn't know whose fence this was.  It's just all round easier to hunt in true wilderness.
"When in doubt, it's best to say no," Laura said.
Gilbert thought we were all fools!

We saw more grouse along the road.  Gilbert was not impressed with his hunting team. By the time we came back on the highway  darkness was coming on. At 100 mile House we immediately saw the Ramada sign coming into town. Checking into the Ramada Limited the young  good looking manager was terrific, friendly and helpful.  The Ramada was clean and the staff were the best. Gilbert was welcome but had to be on a leash.  Lots of parking.  W'e saw others had boats and ATV's with them.  Lots of expensive new trucks in the country. The manager said the parking lot was safe, they'd not had any problems.  Away from the centre of town it's  less likely to attract thieves.
Each day the Ramada had a morning continental breakfast which I only got to enjoy the final day. It reminded me of the European hotels we enjoy.  I talked to young manager  and learned that he'd been to University of Bombay.  I'd been there and loved Bombay.  He told me about all the development since I'd been and discussed the changes that have taken place there and in Canada in recent years.

Tom and I were up at 7 am to go hunting, leaving Laura and Gilbert to sleep in.  Tom had bought a whole new set of cammo gear on sale at Cabelas and was looking way too spiffy.  We loaded up with the A&W breakfast sandwiches and coffee then headed up Exeter Station road to the trails.  Parking the F350 we unloaded the Honda 500 side by side Pioneer.  Tom and I named it "Charles'.  Because it was called 'pioneer' we thought of 'chuck wagon' , considered calling it Chuck but thought 'Charles' was more distinguished and fitting.

Soon we were motoring along at about a jogging pace enjoying the  drizzly morning.  I just love being out in the wilderness. We had our cross bows strapped on the back of Charles and a rifle each in the cab.  I'd ridden enough rainy and snowy times on my Yamaha and the Polaris before it to appreciate the joy of the Honda 500 Pioneer's roof and windshield.

We came over a hill and there was a whole herd of magnificent mule deer a couple of hundred yards away. They actually let us stop and observe them. One buck had 4 points with it's velvet still on the horns. Another buck was a two point and another a spike. In addition there were a half dozen does.  I sure wished it was rifle season because I'd have had the 4 point for sure. The cross bow is best at 50 to 100 yards in my hands though others can shoot further more acurately.  It was Tom's first bow hunt so I cautioned waiting for a better shot. As we stalked closer on foot the bucks took off bouncing into the woods leaving the doe to watch us unperturbed.

We left  the ATV and with radios, bow and gear, separated for a stalk and sit.  I hurt my back drawing and cocking my bow.  That was humiliating. I have a draw string to reduce the tension but had it improperly positioned so really did everything every back doctor or chiropracter says not to do  bending straight over and pulling straight up with straight legs.  Humbug!
With my bow cocked and my back hurting I headed out into the woods realizing my knees were not happy either. They simply were not used to climbing over big rocks and my stability wasn't what it used to be.  I really had to be more careful.  What a change from a man who ran up and down hills scarce years before.  Still I'm thankful for the mobility.  Injuries to my foot and knee in recent years had made it so  I'd not even been able to stalk the previous season. It really felt good, if a little painful, to be stalking along deer paths in the deep woods.   I found just the right clearing where I could sit in ambush. I started out meditating then settled for  a nap, drifting in and out with an ear cockd for snapping twigs.  Nothing.

Three great Sandhill Crane however suddenly rose up in the air not a hundred yards away from me. What a surprise.  I'd later see there was a little pond they must have spent the night in. What majestic prehistoric looking birds they are.

Around 10 am I was stiff and cold and not a little restless.  Only a couple of hours into the hunt and wanting to be moving about. My former guide friend old Bill who was big on morning ambushes would have shook his head. I went looking for Tom surprised I was so close to the road having walked through the woods and come back on the road we came in on.  I climbed around the hills some more before getting back to Charles.  I was glad for the thermos of coffee.  The rain had stopped. The sun was poking out of the clouds. Such a lovely place.  Pine and spruce trees, green everywhere. I discharged my crossbow, stupidly losing the old broken arrow I used to save the bow string.  I drove the ATV down to the end of the road and then back again to find Tom who'd seen me go by and walked back to the road to join up.  He told me he'd  come across another herd of deer with a couple of bucks.

"If I'd had my bow cocked and a little more confidence, I 'm sure I could have got the second buck. It walked right in front of me at about 75 yards."  he said, excited.

We climbed on Charles and began driving slowly along the trails.  A man and woman on two quads passed us. They were just sight seeing. We'd seen a couple of younger guys on Arctic Cats with long compound bows riding quads earlier but no one else. Heading down another somewhat overgrown road we surprised another herd of deer. We were only thirty yards away when two deer high tailed it out of there while a couple of more just walked ahead of us into the woods. Tom spotted one huge deer when I stopped the vehicle so I jumped out.  I'd just cocked my bow with a big mule deer still standing only 30 years away.  Tom meanwhile had gone the other way after another deer.

The trouble was I couldn't see if this deer had horns. I stalked as quietly as I could hoping to glimpse the head which was down chomping grass behind some bushes. Without my ever seeing it's head,  it moved off leaving me with another great 'one that got away' story'.

Tom had one in his sights only to find he couldn't squeeze the trigger.  The deer got tired of waiting and Tom figured out the bow "safety" better so he'd not miss again.   I'm not judging, only the week before I'd missed a rabbit because I couldn't get the clip to seat in my rifle.Such mishaps make one appreciate appreciate why soldiers are forever cleaning, oiling and working their equipment.

It was a great morning with a lots of sightings and near misses.  We even saw more grouse but only ptarmigan were in season.

"Ptarmigan are the ones with feathers on their feet," Tom said.

"And they're more black and white than brown and red," I said.

Back at the Ramada Laura had been out walking Gilbert who was ecstactic to see us.  Much barking and greeting licks before he settled down. Laura had been enjoying the latest Harlan  Coban novel and said how much she enjoyed the Ramada service.

That night Tom and I drove around in the truck exploring the region. I'm not much for night hunting anymore.  I really did enjoy the seat heater on my back and it was just fun to drive about the backwoods. We actually came out at  Lake Helena a fabulous spot full of RV. Lots of ATV's and kids and big fires, boats out fishing and generally a really good feeling wilderness camping place.  Two people had the same Keystone Energy toyhauler as I do.  I  enjoyed talking with one fine fellow about it's load and towing and how well it handled on the rough back country roads.that lead into Lake Helena. I'd only had mine really offload once when we all were moose hunting. I hadn't towed it with the ATV in the garage either.  Right now my garage is a really large junk drawer. Towing heavy loads concerned me.

"I just have to go slow on the up hills," he told me.  "Otherwise the RV  handles well on the back roads. It's a tough built toy hauler. "  He had an F350 truck same as me too.We also discussed hitches  and tailgates.

Following  the road out we came to Lac la Heche and headed south on 97.

Back in 100 Mile House at the Superstore I picked up a barbecued chicken,  deli salads, buns, chips and dip, paper plates and plastic cutlery. I even got Hagen Daz ice cream.  Back at the Ramada we had a feast watching Fear of the Living Dead.  Tom and Laura were not that impressed with my choice of zombie fare but loved the food. It's really roughing it when you have to bring in your own Hagen Daz.

I'd got Gilbert a rabbit squeaky toy.   He sure had fun with that.

The next morning Tom was up in the dark and his ludicrous enthusiasm got me going. I dressed like a stiff zombie ,  somehow getting myself and gear out to the truck.

Back in the wilderness again we had Charles off the truck and loaded up a whole lot more efficiently.  Again we drove slowly into the back woods.  No talking.  Just the quiet chugging  along watching for the very well camouflaged deer.  When we got to an open area Tom spotted one bounding across the clearing.  We parked Charles.

I found a really nice spot on a trail and enjoyed the rain stopping and the sun coming out of the cloud cover.  More dawn mediation. No deer came by but I really did enjoy my time sitting in ambush.  It's a meditative time.  I've had too much on my mind with all the stresses of work and family. It surely helps to sit quietly in prayer, listening to the forest,letting go. No animals came.  Eventually I returned and met up with Tom at Charles.   I do love thermos coffee.

We drove about after.  No bear. No ptarmigan.

Stopping in a clearing we saw  a few deer on a hillside about 1000 yards away. We thought of stalking but it was too far and too open and surely the deer would leave.

"Let's ride Charles around the back and come up behind them on another trail." I said.

So that's what we did.  Stopping at a place we thought we could stalk in on them. The wind direction was better too.  Tom took the one side of the ridge and I went down the other side following along the ridge we thought we'd seen them on.

Sure enough 2 doe passed right in front of me at 50 yards. I waited and looked and looked for a hoped for buck following them. There was one but he saw me before I saw him. We looked at each other 50 yards away with  his head in a bunch old tree branches making it impossible for me to know if he had horns.  I was trying to lift up my binoculars with the strap caught on something when he turned and literally disappeared.  I just had a perfect side view of a  perfect 2 point.  I thought, if I'd just used the telescope on the crossbow and not messed with the stupid binoculars I'd have got him when he turned  It was simply not meant to be. I was winded and sore too after running up the hill after him, vainly hoping for another shot.

I felt like Tom had and later we'd talk about being 'dumb and dumber'.

I had laid a trail of bits of kleenex hung on branches but chasing uphill after that buck I'd got off my trail and decided  instead of backtracking to to head back out by dead reckoning.   I get lost alot.  I knew though  that Tom was about and I'd cross the main trail eventually if I couldn't find where we'd parked. I had  a Garmin GPS and compass watch but still I didn't find Charles where I thought it should be.

Tom and I were each carrying Motorola Waterproof GMRS 2 way radios.  I called him up and told him I was lost, asking him to fire off his rifle to help me get directions.  He did and I was a ways away.  Getting closer I fired mine off and he tried to triangulate me to his position.  I found the original road we'd come in instead so called him up to tell him to come out to me.    The trouble was he'd lost the key. Dumb and dumber.

I hiked in to where he was and we looked all over for the key. I had my set but we didn't want to lose his set.  Not only was the ATV key on his ring but the titanium chain lock I had as well.  We drove back over the places he'd been where he thought he might have had them fall out of his pocket when he'd taken something else out. No luck.

Back at the truck we loaded Charles on and left his cammo rifle cover on the ground. It had got soaked in diesel so we'd not left it in the cab.  Dumb and dumber.  Now something else was lost. And Neither of us had been able to find the old arrows we'd shot off to protect our strings when we uncocked the bow.

Back at Ramada Gilbert was ecstactic to see us.  Laura had taken him for a long walk exploring the town when the rain had stopped and the skies cleared.Tom ,going through his new Cabelas came outfit, found the pocket he hadn't looked in. Sure enough there were the ATV and titanium lock keys.  Good find.

In the evening we took Gilbert along for what was planned to be just a drive about the woods in the truck. We saw lots of grouse almost hitting one that flew up as we passed it. No deer. No bear.  No ptarmigan.

Then there was a horrid grinding growling noise coming from under the truck. Tom figured it was the brake sticking but that we'd be able to drive  back.  We drove back picking up some fried chicken and wedges at the gas station..

"Don't call them wedgies," the lively counter lady told me.

It was a great meal and late night television since the morning hunt was off due to the truck problems.  I was glad for the sleep in.

Holiday Monday, everything was closed. I'd phoned all the numbers for repairs I could find on line.  Lordco Parts was open. We decided to wash the truck before going there.  We were able to get the parts to fix the brakes with new calipers and pads. Tom figured he could do the job if needed. The Lordco guys however told us about George at Country Tire.  George did emergency repairs. George was great.

"Bring it over in an hour."  Tom was up for that. I went back to Ramada and had a very good continental breakfast while Tom went off with the truck to see George.  Tom likes to get involved in mechanical things. Normally I might  too but with a stiff sore back I was more than happy to let the professional doe the job. A couple of hours later Tom was back with the truck all healed.

"George at Country Tire is a really great guy.  He really knows his stuff."  Tom said. Now that's great praise coming from an engineer who routinely does his own car and plane  repairs.

It was a late start but we actually saw a couple of white tailed doe on the way home.

I drove down the canyon to Hope where we got burgers at DQ. Gilbert sure loves getting his little hamburger paddy which Laura breaks up in bits for him. Tom drove the rest of the way to Vancouver where he dropped us off at midnight taking the truck with him to get it ready for next weekend's opening of rifle season.  Gilbert is going to finally get to be a grouse retriever again. No more won't watching with dismay as we let partridge get away.

The Ramada Limitted was really lovely. 100 Mile House is a great town.  We've loved all our visits there. Everyone is so friendly and they really have most everything a country person needs.  Laura looked at the real estate papers and said that there were some perfect places.  We'd seen the same thing in Kamloops. The more uninhabitable Vancouver becomes the more attractive the rest of BC remains.

It really was a great weekend.  I certainly appreciated Tom and George solving the truck issues.   We both loved Charles the Honda 500 Pioneer. It was Tom's first time bow hunting and I really think he is hooked. Laura enjoyed hanging out with Gilbert and reading Harlan Corban without interruptions.

I am sure the deer  and bear were especially glad they out smarted us.

Death Cafes

I heard on the radio of a new old idea. People are getting together for coffee to discuss death. It might sound macabre at first but it’s philosophically ancient and uplifting. In Medieval days there was even the notion of a 'good death'.  This was before 'physician assisted suicide'.  A 'good death' was about the completion of a 'good life' . This was before the age of amorality.  Relative truth was not a thing of the day and death was considered an absolute.
So many people live today ‘lives of quiet desperation’.  So much depends on our perspective.  The first path of the Noble Truth 8 fold path of Buddhism is 'right view.'  There is a certainty about the relativity of perspective. But there is also the perspective  of the future too.  No one knows.  The pseudoscientists and materialists ever loud as children would have you believe as they do.  But death has no simple answer and each view has it’s own unique reward and loss.
I believe in death as a time of transition.  There is ‘afterlife’ for me just as there is ‘morning after’ when I go to sleep. So far I’ve not ‘died in my sleep.’  Not that I know of.  Not that I would know either. This is 'belief'.  This is an 'idea'.  Even the great Houdini apparently didn't 'escape death' as he said he would.
The epistemology of knowing is itself frought with constant hazard.  Naturally knowing death, a purely private and subjective matter distinct from the public and objective event is too.  I’ve held the dying and felt the end of the body with relative certainty.  The works of Psychiatrist Dr. Moody about Near Death Phenomena and later works quoted by Neurosurgeon Dr. Eben Alexander in Proof of Heaven even challenge the notion of the ‘time’ of death.  As physicians we once used the idea of the death of the heart and loss of pulse and EKG reading, but with EEG advances Brain Death, where available,  has been used as ‘best time of death’ practice.
This is a long way from the days when one felt air around the nostrils and if it wasn’t moving declared a person dead.  Fakirs and yogis long ago developed methods of slowing breathing and heart to the point of ‘appearing’ dead with the subsequent apparent miracle of reanimation.  However even today there are those who have ‘revived’ after being declared ‘brain dead’ and that certainly challenges our ‘cutting edge’ perceptions of the simple ‘timing’ of death.  Science continues to expand our knowledge of the ‘event phenomena’.
What counts most is whether one believes death is a permanent or temporary end.  Is consciousness tied to the body and brain. Is there instead as Socrates believed a distinct body and soul separation, the joining of which occurs in this life whereas death releases the prisoner soul to rise or travel on.  Neuroscientist Dr. Mario de Beuregaard in his book Spiritual Brain does a superb job of debunking the prevailing myths of consumer society and the propaganda of "he who has the most toys wins".  He studied Carmelite Nuns meditating with PET Scans and showed the extreme ecstatic capacity inherent in the process which defies the reductionist egotism of the ultimately fearful.
Time is even a working principle but something which studied more in depth becomes the thing of Einstien and the perception of the "now'.
The Mathematician philosopher Pascal postulated a gamblers approach to belief in god which might well apply to belief in afterlife.  He said that if there was no god and one believed in God there was indeed no loss. However if there was a God and one believed in God there was a potential considerable win.  Not believing in an infinite possibility would by Pascals reasoning be an overwhelming loss.  "Pascal’s Wager" has gone down in history as one of the simplest approaches to positive thinking.
It’s challenged however by the Neitziean Superman complex who would do acts in life for which they’d not want potential consequence in afterlife. The very idea of a relationship between present life and after life is a posit itself.  The Superman who makes his own rules and lives without the restraint of the world might still be hampered by the ‘still small voice’ which somehow disturbs the sleep of the Caligula’s of the world.  Addicts and alcoholics who have done ‘monstrous’ things and tried to ‘numb’ themselves and overcome the ‘anxiety’ and ‘insomnia’ and ‘nightmares’ which accompany the obscene and offensive, don’t seem to find enough ‘sedation’ and seem haunted desperately desiring a subjective certain end to their own miserable existence. It’s not surprising that many world leaders even today involve themselves in philanthropy in later life not just for tax havens but rather to expiate guilt about earlier transgressions.  The Mob was notorious for it’s support of children’s hospitals.
Death being an end would appeal most to those most guilty whereas those most worthy might well have nothing to fear of an afterlife. Prevailing theories commonly might reflect the morality of an individual as much as unbiased observation.
Certainly world leaders and the elite might fear the afterlife and hoarding wealth this life seek immortality by any medical means.  The advances in stem cell research and body part transplants is not driven by the young as much as it is by the old and wealthy whose behaviour might in this life time be considered suspect.  They do not seem to wish to meet their maker quickly in the eyes of those who lack wealth or such choice.
Amazing Grace, the great testimony, written by a hardened slave dealer contains the memorable phrase, "I once was lost but now I”m found.'  The end of life 'conversion' is so common as to be a thing of movies and stories.
 The young have been given visions of glory and virgins with death to entice them to do the will of the old who cling to life fearing death.  Do they know more or by the way that they lived missed out on the life that sees some walk peacefully to their ends as if fulfilled. Thomas wrote the great poem for his father, "do not go gentle into that still night."  
How one lives superficially, fearfully or in depth, passionately, might well ‘fill’ one with respect to life that one is ‘ready’ for death whereas another might be ‘frantic’ and ‘lost’ at the prospect.  So many people live lives like ‘happy cabbages’ not ‘aware’ and seemingly distracted repeatedly say before death ‘if I’d only known”.
Jesus taught ‘be watchful’.  His parable of keeping the lamps lit speaks to the same message as the Buddha's which was to "be awake" .  Today's image of the 'zombie " is a contrast to the spiritual direction of the wisdom teachers.  Richard Rohr describes the wisdom fathers as generally teaching that this world is one of people asleep, sleep walker.   Dr. Scott Peck described it as a kindergarten for the soul.
What metaphor rules ones life, i.e. that life is a journey, a bowl of cherries, a place of suffering, a waiting for Godot, whatever,  defines the ultimate meaning one gives to death and may well create the nature of existence itself. The Secret and the Law of Attraction suggests that there comes a time where our very thoughts manifest our actual reality. This isn’t necessarily so or without discipline of mind but might well be an explanation for death.  Is one ever ‘ready’ for death.
Talking with a WWI vet who survived the trenches and countless opportunities for death, he told me once quite simply, " we all knew ’the bullet must have our name on it.'”  There’s the whole issue of ‘freewill versus fate’. The shallow 21st century opportunist speaks eloquently of genetics and ‘determinism’ but cranks out ‘selfies’ like the next one. The 'selfie' is the ultimate facile seeking of some form of timelessness or immortality.
The idea that ‘no praise, and no blame’ goes with fate is alien to this millennial culture which wants ‘all praise, and no blame’ no different from my OO7 culture which wanted a ‘license’ to kill because we all have ‘freedom’ to kill but don’t wish the ‘consequences’ that come with 'freedom'.  Death is a consequence.  Hence the success of the insurance agencies and all the silliness of individuals to sacrifice so many rights and freedoms for ‘safety’ as an ultimately illusory goal.
Life is temporal.
But is death different?  Again is it temporal or permanent?
I applaud the return of ‘death cafes’ . Can one truly celebrate life without discussion of death.  The whole cultural art forms of the zombie, vampire and the living dead suggest we cannot.  Might we not in kind embrace the angels if we shed some light on death rather than leave it to the nether regions.

Gratitude Aug. 29, 2016

Thank you God for my home. Thank you for my own heating, running water, view, bed, and toilet. Thank you for this coffee this morning and the canned milk and honey. Thank you also for this Instant oat cereal and milk.  Thank you for my dog Gilbert who was laying next to me when I awoke.
Thank you for the dreams. I was glad to visit people I’ve not dreamed together with for sometime.  You will know who I mean.  It was one of those nuministic dreams, the gathering and the people, the peninsula but this time I was on land on my motorcycle and the boat was at anchor. I loved visiting all the homes and creative sites and seeing the people industriously productive.  It was kind of you to show me all this.  I liked the dogs too.
Thank you for the weekend. Thank you for the successful work on this RV. Thank you for friends, for Tom, and Laura, George, and John, Phillip, Willi, Kirk, and all those others who come in and out of my life with cheer.  I am ever thankful for associations.  Thank you for family. Help my brother and give him strength and success in his present trouble.
Thank you for Monday. Thank you for vehicles. Thank you for work and help me do thy will, be what is needed today to do the best I can and be the channel for your healing. Help me to practice the presence of God and live meditatively in the moment with awareness holding to the flow and being sensitive to all that is needed of me.
Thank you Lord for your the Holy Bible. Thank you for history as well. Thank you for novels and television and movies. Thank you for stories and play.
Thank you for showers and now I must run to enjoy my new and improved facilities thankful to be back in my home and restored to my routines.
Thank you Jesus.   Having spent the weekend reading about Chalcyon and the discussions of your divine and human nature I have no doubt that you shit and knew the meaning of a good shit.  Defecation is divine.  There are way too many constipated souls and dysfunctional toilets in this world where diarrhea is equally a concern.  Obesity and starvation go hand in hand in the feast and famine unreliability of this insecure temporal space where all the certainty lies in the whole and the depth.  Let me be ever close to you Lord. Help me know you truly and feel the strength and clarity and confidence in your presence. Thank you Lord.

An Otherwise Shitty Weekend

It was definitely a shitty weekend. The valve on my black water sewage holding tank had closed shut. No one would fix it in situ because of the heat and tourist season.  Because of an obvious design flaw when these valves crap out, if they crap out in the closed position ,there is no way to get the crap out in the normal way. Further, when the old valve is to be removed, there is necessarily going to be some spillage before the new valve can be installed.
My friend Tom had siphoned out the tank through toilet itself.  This procedure caused an evacuation of our sweet neighbour next to us. Who would have known she had a severe respiratory condition?One whiff and apparently she turned purple and blue wheezing,choking and coughing. Tom was very apologetic. The ambulance crew was friendly enough.  That was just a whiff portend of the future.  Birds flying over died in flight  but suddenly came alive again on the ground as zombie birds that attacked  children and small animals.  The park management hinted that it would be best if l solved my leakage problem elsewhere.  There are no "Depends" for RV’s.
The last time I moved the RV was a couple of years ago when I caused such damage that it was in the shop a couple of months.  I love my Keystone Energy RV and felt such guilt for catching her slide on that nasty cement wall as I turned just a little too tightly around that very inconsiderate corner.
When we hit the highway, naturally there were high winds.  The trailer began fishtailing just like my first trailer did before it did that 360 turn  on the freeway taking us with it  before flopping over dead in the ditch and pulling my new Ranger truck into the grave with it .  Laura had been screaming "We're going to die! We're going to die!" and I hadn't thought so since I'd crashed other vehicles at higher speeds and lived through those.  Laura wasn't nearly as experienced with high speed crashing before she met me but that trailer truck event really moved her along.
Both trailer and truck were write offs . I was very thankful for having bought the best insurance.  It turned out that the second hand trailer had  been sold to me with a faulty brake system and I was exonerated for once.  That's when I began buying trailers from Travelhome and have ever been thankful. When this trailer began fish tailing I slowed right down happy that the brakes were working at very least.
I pulled into Travel Home RV in Abbotsford.   As is my normal response,  I was considering trading the trailer in for a 5th wheel.  Thankfully they had no fifth wheel toy hauler in stock.  I might have stayed married in the past if there'd been no trade ins in stock.
What they did have and suggested was a better hitch.  Again I might have stayed married one of the times if some one had suggested such an original idea.  Keeps the wife. Get a better hitch!. They really are the best at Travel Home.   For less than a $1000 I had a 4th way state of the art hitch for a much heavier trailer installed while we waited.  What a difference!  No more fish tailing and no more lurching.  No more shame about having overloaded my trailer either.
Heading up to the Coquahalla is when the truck died. It didn't suddenly die.  It just suddenly lost power.  An evil wrench icon in the Hal computer communication window flashed on saying the truck was now in the possession of the truck safety police and would only 'limp' home.   It did this once before and it was a manufacturer gasget glych in this model and year of F350 Fords. The dealer was terrific and rebuilt the engine all on warranty. The truck'sbeen a trooper for the last 50,000 km until it’s been kibitzing about these last couple of weekends. Tom volunteered  to take it to a Diesel sub-specialist who charges more than neuro surgeons. It was supposed to be perfect after they do a mechanic's voodoo dance and replaced a random part of the turbo charger.   I asked Tom if he'd checked whether the fellow voted Justin Trudeau before letting him work on my very conservative Harley Davidson edition truck.
At 60 km/hr  we made it almost to Princeton, way out  in the boonies.  We pulled off the highway at  a place where it looked like others had been dumping a variety of shit. We hoped our discharge would be minor..  The tank was sucked clean but apparently, according to the instructions, you’re not supposed to leave your valve open  for long sits because solid collects and the wet  flows over.  We thought there might be some kind of crystalline science fiction monster lurking still.
Tom got under the truck. He’d come equipped with overalls but I noticed he used my wrenches. I didn’t mind.  I was literally catatonic with the thought of reacquaintance with my own shit of perhaps 2 years previous.  What would we  say to each other? What was the etiquette? I shone the light on matter.  There were only 2 nuts that needed removing, not a particularly reassuring thought.
Tom opened the pipe and yes there was a gushing moment, that adolescent instant of blushing release. It wasn’t a whole lot in terms of sludge but the odour was noteworthy.  The paint on the RV peeled and nearby trees wilted.  Squirrels developed rasping voices.
While Tom was swiftly putting in the new valve,  more birds fell from the sky.  Much to our amazement little creatures and insects descended en mass on the  discrete effluence, this purified treated and conditioned human waste.  I’d added all manner of enzyme and  RV treatment to it  hoping that might help appease the pouting valve..  These little creatures r began instantly consuming this exotic substance and instead of dying took on hulk like Lilliputian appearance of Olympic Russian athletes,  their little bodies steroidally swelling before our eyes.
We both washed. excessively, after the event. I had only been in splash range but no amount of soap and water seemed enough.  I was glad for the shower.  I did shit in the now functional toilet. I very much enjoyed this important throne moment in the privacy of my home. If I was Justin Trudeau I suppose I would have taken a selfie but the thought never crossed my mind.
Neither of us had much appetite after the experience.  We did feed Gilbert well if only to discourage him from his French tendency to ‘mange de merde’.  Half poodle, half cocker spaniel, we blame his rude behaviours on the French side of his nature.
That night with the RV generator supplying electricity we watched a black and white film of the Tobruk defence in WWII starring a very young Richard Burton.  Tom and I felt that in our own way we had brought the RV through a long and shitty siege and prevailed despite overwhelming odds.
 It was great to awake in the wilderness having my very own toilet to relieve myself at, no longer fearing overflow.
Tom, of course, got to use the facilities too but Gilbert was left to the outdoors.  As a connoisseur of butts we thought the previous night’s experience with the RV  would have raised his appreciation for the Keystone Energy, in his doggie mind.
Given the trip was downhill the truck engine gave little trouble on the way home. Tom amazingly parked the RV without doing major damage. I really thought that was very good of him.  He’s planning on getting the truck back to the guys to find out why it was still acting so shitty.
Now that he's gone, I think I’ll just sit on the throne.  It's not that I need to go but it feels so good.

Saturday Morning and the RV Holding Tank

I awoke this morning to a picture sent by Kevin at 7 am of the cutest little munchkin god kid Kendra, hands and face all covered in blueberry jam.  Gilbert thanked Kevin immediately seeing this as his opportunity to dive in with dog kisses and squirmy body.
“Since I’m awake,  I might as well take you for a walk,” I said to Gilbert.  “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” tail wagging body happy thoughts.
I dressed.  Gilbert bolted out the door. I caught up with his leash.  He swatted down the lane right next to the waste bin. I picked up this present and deposited then took him back to the trailer. I meanwhile walked to the club house where I used the facilities.  My own have been plugged for weeks.
I’ve taken this as a metaphor. I see this as reflecting my relationship with God.  Somehow my life is so full of shit I can’t let the light of joy and heaven in. I have to get rid of the shit.  I’ve called various people. All the leaders in the field. The plumbing and septic system and waste folk are all flummoxed. There’s a broken valve and if anyone attempts to fix it in the park there will be waste overflow.  We have to take it to a place where the waste leakage will not stink up the neighbours in this otherwise lovely heat.
Tom has volunteered to help.  He even bought the valve replacement. Now he’s on his way to assist me moving my RV to the country.  We’re going to spend the night in the deep woods and replace the valve.  Out in the country we expect to find a place where we can have the RV on an angle so the shit in the tank is least likely to overflow when we removed the jammed valve.  It’s a design flaw. I am certain thousands of others have encountered this problem and there are videos on you tube about replacing the valve.  But there’s did not freeze shut. Open it’s a non issue.  The tank is emptied and the valve is replaced but closed is another story.
Most people do not ‘live aboard’ their RV’s or at least are not encumbered as I am with so much ‘shit’.  The metaphor here is that I have to ‘lighten up’.  I have a need for better organization. I have a couple of activities that I do each season and literally since last year I’ve not moved the activities of one season to the storage locker as is the plan.  I’ve got last years hunting clothing and this summer’s camping gear and all my work gear and my sports and reading material and writing projects and some of the boating gear all here. My garage which is supposed to be empty so I can load my Harley or my Honda 500 Pioneer is knee deep in suitcases and guitars and motorcycle gear.
It was the same when I lived on my sailboat. The sailboat without all the clothing associated with work and some of the other activities was just perfect for travelling and crossing oceans.  This RV is the same. I really think it’s the perfect RV for a cross country trip or for hunting trips to the north.  If I’d just get the stuff to the storage locker I’d be okay.  However the storage locker is next to the boat and this RV is on the other side of the city.  The change of one part in a whole requires the reworking of the entire system.
I have had to put netting and hooks for bungees up to make this RV more mobile.  When I’m just using it for a hunting trip it’s not a big deal because I can lessen the land and stow things but now there’s simply no room for things to be stored.
I’m full of shit. It’s really temping to consider a bigger unit. I’ve had my eye on the fifth wheels for a long time. The advantage there is better separation of bedroom with the laundry facility, more storage room, not that much more but more and better space in kitchen with counter space.  I really don’t have counter space here.
But that’s the ‘2 foot itis of ‘boat world.”  For years I wanted a slightly bigger boat. Yet my yacht is big enough. Just like this RV. If I wasn’t working all the time  and my storage locker was nearer and more convenient or I was simply better organized all would be well.  I do miss having a cleaning lady too.
I just think of all the pictures and things that will fall when we actually take this baby on the road. It’s been too long entrenched. My sailboat was perfect with everything properly stowed and the boat in working order after about of a week of travelling down the coast.  if I was on the road for a week the same would hold for this RV.  It’s just not moved since 2 years ago when I tore the slide parking at the end of the last moose hunting trip when I returned so tired late at night and worried about getting up to work the next day.  It was a guaranteed disaster, the kind of thing we learned on the sailboat.  Better to wait till morning than go into a harbour late at night in poor conditions.  The same held true for this RV Park. It’s a bitch to park in. The tightest parking one will ever encounter with a motor home.  Just like some of the docking scenarios that I encountered early but now seem relatively doable.  It’s a steep learning curve with these big machines.  My yacht is 13 tons.  Docking involved wind, current, and inertia.  The RV is just an issue of watching out for 4 sides on turning and backing up. There’s no wind or current by comparison.
It’s all overwhelming.
I’m thankful for Tom’s company.  With guys it’s always good to have another person to lighten the load.  All over this park there are couples with  one person who does the driving and another who gets out and watches as an extra set of eyes to lessen the likelihood of crash. On the boat it’s the one person who steps off and ties a line to the dock to hold the boat.
I’ve done these things alone but I sure do appreciate the help.
Today the inertia is with me.  I’ve had coffee but I’d really like to just lie on the couch and read a novel. The thought of all the moving parts of hooking up this trailer and driving out of the park and then heading up the road towing tons of home is simply overwhelming.
I phoned Tom at 8 am and said we’d plan with breakfast first. White Spot.  More coffee and more mobility.  Then it will happen.
We want to take the RV up north this fall for hunting simply because it’s going to get cold soon. Tenting is fun but not in the cold.  This RV is the perfect set up.  It can go on logging roads and backwoods but we really need to know where we’re going and where we’re going to set up.  The problem with a trailer is you don’t want to get stuck because backing up is a royal hassle.  A nightmare if it’s any distance.  And certainly something you don’t want to be doing on a mountain road.  We have however found a small paved trailer car park near where we want to hunt so plan to take the trailer there and then drive the truck with ATV the 10 miles back to the hunting area.  Laura will be coming along and will like the luxury whereas Tom and I and Gilbert will rather enjoy coming back to warmth and comfort of our RV home.  I like the showers.
Now I’m going to enjoy the shitter working again.
I also know that it’s not going to be a much of a mess as I fear.  But I’d love a cleaning lady.  There will be stuff falling to the floor and I really need to get this place better organized. I do miss my cleaning lady.  It’s been a couple of months since I spent a day going through this place and really cleaning it.
I could do stuff now while I’m waiting for Tom but I’m going wait till I’m driven by having another person waiting on me and me dashing about putting dishes in sinks and bathrtumbs and such so they won’t fly about.
I’m inspired now. I think I’ll shave and shower. Then I think I’ll put the coffee on for another cup.  I’ve got to get myself in the zone to address this RV move and shitter restore equation.
It’s times like this I understand why guys never get past the couch.  I did years with the highest tech being a canoe and bicycle. The car was something . But there were mechanics and I ever learned mechanics for the maintenance of my bug. That’s when it began.  I learned the mechanics for the bug and then it was downhill from there.  Having the yacht required me to learning plumbing.  I fixed the plumbing and replaced the toilet on that boat a dozen times. Diesel mechanics courses and courses on radio and radar and electronics and bigger and bigger trucks and bigger and bigger RV’s.  Now I’m 21st century and looking longingly back on the days when I had only a pup tent a canoe and an old car that carried me and my canoe bicycle and tent.  I sometimes think that retirement will be a lessening until I am back there.  It’s one thing to have never had the Harley Davidson and another to know it’s joy and then return to the simpler cheaper less complicated bicycle. I’m not there yet and love this RV for instance when it’s working. It’s rocket science.  It’s unbelievable.  But when these high end items go wrong they sure are complicated. There’s a simple joy in Walden Pond.
We talk a lot about the simplest sailing system off shore.  All the accessories can and will go wrong so there’s a die hard group that don’t have GPS , radar or autopilots and remain luddite and safe. Like the AK47 ….a truly dependable rifle.  I’ve got the semi auto Ruger and it does jam whereas my old bolt action rifle is so simple and dependable.
Then there’s the whole world of leasing and renting.  Let some one else maintain things.  Ownership is over rated.  Hotel living at it’s finest.  Maids.  Car to Go.  There’s a lot to be said for that. I’ve given up on home ownership roof repair, plumbing costs and yard maintenance and all the other things that went with owning homes. Mostly I got tired of losing the investment because my partner and I were not able to maintain our relationship so the home became a burden and I lost my shirt every time.  I lack the fundamental ‘entitlement’ that others seem to have. I also lack the ‘spite’. I just want it over and I’ve found myself paying through the teeth just to get away from the abuse and anger.  The most beautiful people can be the most ugly .  I don’t like neighbours who are psychopaths like the guy who almost killed my cat stealing my power after I went to work and by doing so triggering the shut off on the heater.  For weeks I’d come home to a shivering cat . Then I found out this Vancouver psychopath was waiting for me to go to work so he could unplug my electricity and run it into his home to save himself the money of winter heating.  In a civilized country I’d able to get recompense but in Canada it was best to move away.  I like my mobility.  Without police protection or legal support of the working man and the government considering the middle class solely a tax grab, tis best to be able to move . If I had a home today I’d want a gated community.  I understand Trump wanting to build a wall. I laughed to see the huge wall around Clinton’s place. I remember liking the barred windows and walls in the Mexican haciendas. We’re getting that way here. Even in this park if anything is left not locked down thieves range through at night and steal.  Bicycles are forever going missing in Vancouver. It’s famous for the level of bicycle theft. Probably the highest in the world.  More and more heroin and more and more theft.
Of well, time to shave and prepare for the a shitty day.

Rabbit Hunting near Kamloops

Another incredible weekend in the woods.  I finished work Friday afternoon and met up with Tom at my place.
Gilbert, my cockapoo, just loves Tom.  Tom has gained his affection by being his designated ball thrower. Whenever he sees Tom he begins barking and running about his legs in circles till he suddenly rushes off to find a ball, returns, drops it at Tom's feet, then does this little mincing dance until Tom throws the ball as far as he can.  Gilbert retrieves it and Tom doesn't lose patience with Gilbert's favourite of favourite games.
Meanwhile we loaded the Ford F350 truck.  I had a new Coleman Weathermaster tent I was looking forward to trying out. I'd bought in sale, regular $350, for $250 at Canadian Tire.  It sleeps six, and has a netted section at the front.
We had the Honda 500 side by side Pioneer in the back of the truck, rifles, sleeping bags, tents, fishing rods, fly rods, pots and pans and cooking geer and the propane Coleman campstove, all piled in the crew cab of the truck.  Gilbert sat on the centre console but had room to curl up on my jacket and computer case in the back which he did.
We were off.  The highway was slow but moving so we were thankful for that.
In Chilliwack we stopped at Tom's to pick up his bolt action single shot  22 rifle and fishing rod with mitchell 300 spincaster.  I'd brought my Ruger Semi Auto breakdown 22 rifle and the Ruger semi auto .223 Min 14.  We remembered the gas cans for the generator and work lamps but made the bad decision to leave the boat and outboard. The fish would be jumping all weekend laughing at us just beyond the reeds and rushes outside the reach of our casts which fowled repeatedly.
"We should have brought the boat," was heard said by one or the other of us more than one that weekend.
We got burgers and Gilbert was happy to get his little paddy along with us.  He's one of the crew and one of the hunt.  Such a great companion.  Enthusiastic about everything when the gang gets together.
At Canadian Tire we picked up Ammo and dog food.  Then at Superstore we stopped for steaks, zuchini, lunch meat, eggs, yogurt, bread, milk, honey and coffee.  The melon was a nice touch.
Tom drove up the Coquahala.  We got to Kamloops after midnight.
We filled up the thermos at Tim Hortons and got a dozen donuts for the last stretch.
Tom found a tiny one lane bridge on the map and saved us an hour driving. Still we didn't get to the lakes until about 2 am, the night drive up a mountain logging road not something to be hurried.
We gave praise to God and thanked Jesus that no one had arrived at the first of our hoped for campsites.  Alot of times I've arrived in wee hours like this after hours on the road only to find other campers or hunters had beaten us to the wilderness sites.  It really is God's country and we know very well we're not the only ones who love the BC backwoods experience.
We got the generator and trouble light and work light going. Then it was the first time putting up the tent.  It was a puzzle. Thankfully it was colour coded and not too difficult. Admittedly Tom is an engineer and I would not have been able to figure out the door poles myself. The door on this tent is genius, one of the greatest camping design advances. I blew up the new air mattresses too.
It was a cool night. Marvellous view of the lake with the almost full moon in a clear sky.  Really the stuff of Canadian dreams.  3 am and we were all snug as bugs. I'd remembered Gilbert's sweater.  He slept most of the night with Tom but visitted me a couple of times.
In the morning, 6 am Gilbert began barking to defend us from the onslaught of an evil squirrel. A squirrel, upset at our presence under his tree had begun bombing the tent with twigs and such. Gilbert was delighted to be up. I was less than excited.  We went back in the tent. Tom hadn't even woken.
Around 9 30 we both got up. Tom was first to get the coffee going.  Then he was kind enough to make delicious bacon and eggs.  The sun was shining. The lake was tranquil. Fish were jumping.  We tried some casting. I was reading a Tom Clancy Net Force novel on my iPhone. Life was good. I'm so glad I brought my recliner.
After a very slow start and much needed relaxation and a second or third cup of coffee we got the Honda Pioneer off the back of the truck so Gilbert and I could go for a drive and reconnaissance.  What fun.  I love the 4x4 Honda. Tom had installed the new windshield and while it wasn't needed in the heat it really did make the cab cozy. I can see using this machine with snow on the ground. The windshield blocks out the wind but also for summer as it was it has the capacity to open and let in a refreshing breeze.
The dust was terrible and less without the windshield so next trip out we took it off.
That evening there were rabbits everywhere again.  I had the Ruger Mini 14 and shot 4.  Gilbert's just fine when I shoot the rabbit. He rushes over to make sure they are down. Then I collect them. The trouble is when I miss the rabbit. Gilbert sees his job as chasing them.  Well, 10 minutes later one very tired dog comes running back across the trail chasing a mighty tired rabbit. I am not going to shoot a rabbit an inch  in front of my dog's nose so the rabbit gets away and Gilbert wonders whats wrong with me.  But boy can that dog run.  I don't know where he gets his energy.  He drinks up a lot of water when he gets back though.
Four rabbits, not bad for a night.  I got us back before dark and Tom went out and shot another one with his single shot 22. The next day he'd get a couple more.
We cleaned them and threw the guts in the lack to feed the fish and crabs.
We had steak and onions for dinner that night.
The air mattresses didn't work.  It was a hell laying on the cold ground. Tom and I had traded places because he'd not liked the slope.  But I'd depended on my air mattress holding figuring his alone was a problem. But no. Mine leaked too.  In the morning I awoke to something scratching at my face beside the tent wall and Gilbert starting to growl.  I looked out and there was the telltale black and white. A skunk
"Tom, hold Gilbert."  Tom, woke up still asleep and held Gilbert. I went outside to face a tough little skunk with tail lifted giving me the dirty eye.  I quickly found a rock and chucked it at the the sassy little creature. That got him to scoot under the wood pile. He ventured out again to face more rocks from me till he decided heading back into the woods was the better part of valour.
I didn't let Gilbert out and we went back to sleep for another hour.
Another great morning of coffee and reading.
We tried fishing and cursed not having the boat.  The fish were jumping in spite.  With the reeds along the shore we couldn't cast far enough.  No fish.
Tom headed out on the Honda Pioneer we tried called 'chuck' then settled on 'Charles'.  He brought back a couple more rabbits.
Time to take down camp.  We were visited by a family with kids and all on 4 ATV's .  Gilbert had a ball barking up a storm.  Another fisherman came by with a little dog and Gilbert and he peed on every tree together.
I really enjoyed swimming in the lake too.  Twice I stripped and dove in. Perfectly refreshing!
Tom and I got packed up and began the drive home.  We could have stayed a week or two. It was such an idyllic spot. Coming down the mountain the views were incredible.  Canadian wilderness at it's finest.  We crossed the river at the little bridge.  People were swimming and fishing along the banks.  At Merrit we stopped for burghers. The traffic wasn't too bad till about Abbotsford when it slowed right down. Still we were back and had the truck unloaded by evening.
Gilbert was sorry to see Tom his ball thrower go but then went right off to sleep. Tom took the truck to drop off at the diesel shop because it had had the power glyph coming climbing the Coquahalla stretch.  It would turn out to be a turbo problem solved with the replacement of a worn part.  Next time out we'll be bow hunting deer. The deer season is just about on and we're pretty confident that all the equipment is ready first for bow hunting weekend then for the opening rifle hunting weekend. I'm really looking forward to having venison for the winter, not that I'm unhappy about rabbit.  Already I'm planning another rabbit stew in the pressure cooker.  Rabbit makes a great stew, just like venison. Gilbert is going to sleep the week.
Thank you God for your grace and abundance
.

Rabbit Hunting near Kamloops

Another incredible weekend in the woods.  I finished work Friday afternoon and met up with Tom at my place.
Gilbert, my cockapoo, just loves Tom.  Tom has gained his affection by being his designated ball thrower. Whenever he sees Tom he begins barking and running about his legs in circles till he suddenly rushes off to find a ball, returns, drops it at Tom's feet, then does this little mincing dance until Tom throws the ball as far as he can.  Gilbert retrieves it and Tom doesn't lose patience with Gilbert's favourite of favourite games.
Meanwhile we loaded the Ford F350 truck.  I had a new Coleman Weathermaster tent I was looking forward to trying out. I'd bought in sale, regular $350, for $250 at Canadian Tire.  It sleeps six, and has a netted section at the front.
We had the Honda 500 side by side Pioneer in the back of the truck, rifles, sleeping bags, tents, fishing rods, fly rods, pots and pans and cooking geer and the propane Coleman campstove, all piled in the crew cab of the truck.  Gilbert sat on the centre console but had room to curl up on my jacket and computer case in the back which he did.
We were off.  The highway was slow but moving so we were thankful for that.
In Chilliwack we stopped at Tom's to pick up his bolt action single shot  22 rifle and fishing rod with mitchell 300 spincaster.  I'd brought my Ruger Semi Auto breakdown 22 rifle and the Ruger semi auto .223 Min 14.  We remembered the gas cans for the generator and work lamps but made the bad decision to leave the boat and outboard. The fish would be jumping all weekend laughing at us just beyond the reeds and rushes outside the reach of our casts which fowled repeatedly.
"We should have brought the boat," was heard said by one or the other of us more than one that weekend.
We got burgers and Gilbert was happy to get his little paddy along with us.  He's one of the crew and one of the hunt.  Such a great companion.  Enthusiastic about everything when the gang gets together.
At Canadian Tire we picked up Ammo and dog food.  Then at Superstore we stopped for steaks, zuchini, lunch meat, eggs, yogurt, bread, milk, honey and coffee.  The melon was a nice touch.
Tom drove up the Coquahala.  We got to Kamloops after midnight.
We filled up the thermos at Tim Hortons and got a dozen donuts for the last stretch.
Tom found a tiny one lane bridge on the map and saved us an hour driving. Still we didn't get to the lakes until about 2 am, the night drive up a mountain logging road not something to be hurried.
We gave praise to God and thanked Jesus that no one had arrived at the first of our hoped for campsites.  Alot of times I've arrived in wee hours like this after hours on the road only to find other campers or hunters had beaten us to the wilderness sites.  It really is God's country and we know very well we're not the only ones who love the BC backwoods experience.
We got the generator and trouble light and work light going. Then it was the first time putting up the tent.  It was a puzzle. Thankfully it was colour coded and not too difficult. Admittedly Tom is an engineer and I would not have been able to figure out the door poles myself. The door on this tent is genius, one of the greatest camping design advances. I blew up the new air mattresses too.
It was a cool night. Marvellous view of the lake with the almost full moon in a clear sky.  Really the stuff of Canadian dreams.  3 am and we were all snug as bugs. I'd remembered Gilbert's sweater.  He slept most of the night with Tom but visitted me a couple of times.
In the morning, 6 am Gilbert began barking to defend us from the onslaught of an evil squirrel. A squirrel, upset at our presence under his tree had begun bombing the tent with twigs and such. Gilbert was delighted to be up. I was less than excited.  We went back in the tent. Tom hadn't even woken.
Around 9 30 we both got up. Tom was first to get the coffee going.  Then he was kind enough to make delicious bacon and eggs.  The sun was shining. The lake was tranquil. Fish were jumping.  We tried some casting. I was reading a Tom Clancy Net Force novel on my iPhone. Life was good. I'm so glad I brought my recliner.
After a very slow start and much needed relaxation and a second or third cup of coffee we got the Honda Pioneer off the back of the truck so Gilbert and I could go for a drive and reconnaissance.  What fun.  I love the 4x4 Honda. Tom had installed the new windshield and while it wasn't needed in the heat it really did make the cab cozy. I can see using this machine with snow on the ground. The windshield blocks out the wind but also for summer as it was it has the capacity to open and let in a refreshing breeze.
The dust was terrible and less without the windshield so next trip out we took it off.
That evening there were rabbits everywhere again.  I had the Ruger Mini 14 and shot 4.  Gilbert's just fine when I shoot the rabbit. He rushes over to make sure they are down. Then I collect them. The trouble is when I miss the rabbit. Gilbert sees his job as chasing them.  Well, 10 minutes later one very tired dog comes running back across the trail chasing a mighty tired rabbit. I am not going to shoot a rabbit an inch  in front of my dog's nose so the rabbit gets away and Gilbert wonders whats wrong with me.  But boy can that dog run.  I don't know where he gets his energy.  He drinks up a lot of water when he gets back though.
Four rabbits, not bad for a night.  I got us back before dark and Tom went out and shot another one with his single shot 22. The next day he'd get a couple more.
We cleaned them and threw the guts in the lack to feed the fish and crabs.
We had steak and onions for dinner that night.
The air mattresses didn't work.  It was a hell laying on the cold ground. Tom and I had traded places because he'd not liked the slope.  But I'd depended on my air mattress holding figuring his alone was a problem. But no. Mine leaked too.  In the morning I awoke to something scratching at my face beside the tent wall and Gilbert starting to growl.  I looked out and there was the telltale black and white. A skunk
"Tom, hold Gilbert."  Tom, woke up still asleep and held Gilbert. I went outside to face a tough little skunk with tail lifted giving me the dirty eye.  I quickly found a rock and chucked it at the the sassy little creature. That got him to scoot under the wood pile. He ventured out again to face more rocks from me till he decided heading back into the woods was the better part of valour.
I didn't let Gilbert out and we went back to sleep for another hour.
Another great morning of coffee and reading.
We tried fishing and cursed not having the boat.  The fish were jumping in spite.  With the reeds along the shore we couldn't cast far enough.  No fish.
Tom headed out on the Honda Pioneer we tried called 'chuck' then settled on 'Charles'.  He brought back a couple more rabbits.
Time to take down camp.  We were visited by a family with kids and all on 4 ATV's .  Gilbert had a ball barking up a storm.  Another fisherman came by with a little dog and Gilbert and he peed on every tree together.
Tom and I got packed up and began the drive home.  We could have stayed a week or two. It was such an idyllic spot. Coming down the mountain the views were incredible.  Canadian wilderness at it's finest.  We crossed the river at the little bridge.  People were swimming and fishing along the banks.  At Merrit we stopped for burghers. The traffic wasn't too bad till about Abbotsford when it slowed right down. Still we were back and had the truck unloaded by evening.
Gilbert was sorry to see Tom his ball thrower go but then went right off to sleep. Tom took the truck to drop off at the diesel shop because it had had the power glyph coming climbing the Coquahalla stretch.  It would turn out to be a turbo problem solved with the replacement of a worn part.  Next time out we'll be bow hunting deer. The deer season is just about on and we're pretty confident that all the equipment is ready first for bow hunting weekend then for the opening rifle hunting weekend. I'm really looking forward to having venison for the winter, not that I'm unhappy about rabbit.  Already I'm planning another rabbit stew in the pressure cooker.  Rabbit makes a great stew, just like venison. Gilbert is going to sleep the week.
Thank you God for your grace and abundance.