In Dawson Creek we stayed at the Ramada Inn and Brian became an instant believer in the chain. It was the nicest place we've stayed yet -everything just as it should be in a clean, modern motel. We were comfortable and happy, well rested for our next day's journey. But we had no idea it would turn out the way it did.
Driving out of town we saw the Alaska Hotel which was pictured in the Milepost (the guide to driving the Alaska-Canadian Highway.) The photo it advertised was the old-fashioned building in the picture on the sign NOT this boring square brick and cement structure. The hotel looked so cute in the picture and I had told Brian I'd love to stay there. Ha! The false advertising was too funny I had to snap a photo.
Some of Dawson Creek's fine culture.
The area is known for it's farming. Great soil and lots of flat land for cattle to roam. In the 1930's Canada helped get farmers started and encouraged agriculture in the region. We saw enough fields to last a lifetime. Brian called the rolled bales of hay "cinnamon rolls" but I preferred to call them "shredded wheat."
We stopped for a late lunch in William's Lake, which is apparently known for it's... cowboys? Though we didn't see any guys dressed up in tight jeans and cowboy hats the majority of the city signs and statues where of cattle wranglers. We ate at Karen's Place (though at that point I would have settled for a three day old gas station egg salad sandwich.) I was so hungry I had to ask the waitress to bring my side salad out pronto (otherwise I may have done something drastic with my knife and fork -like steal food from the table next to me.) I've rarely eaten so ravenously and threw all good manners to the wind. By the end of the meal I was satiated and happy and we were ready to hit the road again with approximately 341 miles to Bellingham, WA, our end destination.
Williams Lake's rodeo arena.
The smaller highway took us longer to conquer due to the many towns it passed through and the ever changing speed limits. The countryside gradually began to change from hilly farmland to more mountainous, arid landscape reminiscent of Eastern Washington (at least that's what it made me think of.)
We stopped for a potty and beverage break at, gosh, I can't recall the name of the town, and we encountered the busiest gas station I've ever seen. Either this was the town hot spot or all the weekend travelers stopped here on their way into the wilderness for a burger and root beer float. I had to punch three people to keep my place in line to buy my Slurpee and Brian's coffee. I tell ya, this place was dangerous!As the light began to fade we found ourselves traveling a mountainside road where the painted road lines often were non-existent. We definitely have a bone to pick with Canada's road maintenance program. There were barely any reflective markers to let you know where the edge of the road was with a sheer 1,000 foot drop to scare you into staying alert. Semi's and cars alike screamed around the snake-like corners. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains and darkness reigned I had to keep pushing the image out of my mind of the news article which would surely reach the papers the following day: "American Couple -wife pregnant- careens off highway."
Finally we came out the mountains and back onto Highway 1. Just 50 odd miles until the border. Nearly to the U.S. Brian spied a Ramada Inn but missed the turn off. He would have pulled in, but I was too enthusiastic to get to Bellingham and we soldiered on. Crossing the border we drove on a country highway in pitch black night, winding our way into our long-awaited destination. By this time it was nearly midnight. We stopped at four or five hotels: all booked. Bellingham had nothing for us. The plan was to go to Whidbey Island the next day to visit Grandpa and Sheila. We wanted to stay as close to that area as possible for an easy drive the next day, but were forced to continue on the I-5 to look for more accommodations. I won't bore you with the details but after 2 1/2 hours of driving, calling hotels, and stopping at hotels with no luck -and it being well passed 2 AM- we headed to Wenatchee where we knew Mom wouldn't mind visitors at 5 AM.
We drove until Brian could drive no more. We pulled into a rest stop and grabbed a short nap. When we woke at 5 AM to the sun rising over the mountains.
Blurry eyed, Brian drove the remaining 60 miles into Wenatchee. Getting in around 6 AM we stopped for breakfast to kill a little time just in case the family was still sleeping. After our pancakes and eggs I gave Mom a call -she was already out in the garden and welcomed us over. We arrived at our haven, greeted those who were awake and then crashed in the guest house.
We spent some time with the family, visited outside on the patio, ate an early dinner together at the house and such. Brian and I took a driving tour of the cute downtown and strolled along the Columbia River.
A historic boat house on the Columbia River.
The dogs are having a blast here. Smoke loves being in a pack and seems even more relaxed than he did at home in Alaska. Savannah has resumed her role as boss dog and constantly has ball fetching on the brain. The kids love having them around -they make quite a contrast with their four, huge Bernese Mountain dogs.
We'll be here for a few days, then head back towards Mount Vernon and Whidbey for a short visit. It's wonderful being stationary and we're enjoying getting acclimated to the heat -92 in the shade!
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