Bears and Bells

Denali Park (5,400 miles traveled). I am so psyched….I was up before dawn. In fact, I was up several times before…going outside my camper, peering into the sky hoping for a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis that the North Country is so famous for. Nothing yet, but I still have several days to go! Today is prep day. I am actually camped just outside the park in sort of a staging area. It’s the last chance to stock up on food, water, propane, and other essentials like wine before heading into the park, which we do tomorrow morning. That’s right, I said we. My son Ben, and my husband Scott, are joining me for the Denali and Alaskan coast portion of the trip. I think they’re going to love it here…hope so. We’re planning to do a lot of hiking….so getting the backpacks organized is key for today. Some of you have emailed me after the Eureka post and asked what’s in the backpack. Here are a few pics and a list. Let me know (soon) if you think I’ve forgotten anything. Don’t know when I’ll be able to post again…but you should expect some great photos of Denali next time.


The stuff in the backpack (minus lunch)



1. Osprey Day Pack – I love this brand. It’s great for my size, distributes the weight well on my hips. Nice airflow against the back. All sorts of pockets, loops, etc. Has a waterproof cover (a must for Alaska).

2. Buck Knife – essential. This brand has been around forever, with good reason

3. Waterproof matches (duh)

4. Flashlight (another duh)

5. CamelBack Water Reservoir. This particular model is great because it has a wide mouth…easy to clean and fill. The hose, is well, convenient. I don’t have to stop and unscrew or flip open a water bottle. Fits well in a compartment on my pack.

4. First Aide stuff – just in case

5. Bug juice. Another essential here. I can honestly say I survived an attack by a swarm of vicious North Country black flies….but only barely! They are truly the thugs of the insect world. Mosquitoes are a mere annoyance compared to these horrors.

6. Chapstick & Sunblock – the sun is pretty intense, even this far north. It’s also light much longer…until about 10PM here

7. Camera, tripod. And binoculars. I have a Canon EOS D20 with a couple of different lenses and filters. One of my favorite pieces of gear on this trip. (not pictured because I’m using it for this photo!). Nikon Prostaff waterproof binocs.

8, SAT phone. Over-priced and poor quality, but better than nothing. It’s the size of a brick.

9. Bear spray. Its bear country. I’ve carried this stuff for the past week every time I go in the woods. More on bear stuff below. Thanks to Des Cika for providing me with the latest in bear spray technology.

Bear Spray, w/safety

10. Trail Mix & Power bars. Now I know people get really religious about what makes a good trail mix. Personally, I like nuts and dried fruit..period. I do NOT like chocolate in my trail mix even though I’m a fiend for the stuff normally. I have never forgotten a trip Scott and I took several years ago and our trail mix debacle. We were getting ready for a weeklong backpacking trip in the Colorado Rockies in the Estes Park. We existed for a week on freeze dried food and trail mix. A huge bag of trail mix. We made the trail mix before leaving. It had nuts, dried fruit, coconut flakes and an ample supply of chocolate chips. It was tasty, and certainly provided energy throughout the day. The problem was that after a day or so the chocolate melted and the whole thing became this giant heavy glop, that was sticky and messy. Chocolate got everywhere, including on us and our cloths…attracting more insects…you get the picture. No chocolate.

11. Walking stick. These are really great for hiking and day climbing. Mine has a couple of different bases for use in different terrain and weather conditions. It also has a built in compass. It has a bell as well (which I’ve put back on for the photo). The idea behind the bell is that it will make noise as you walk as scare off the bear(s). Others consider it a "dinner bell" for the bears.

Bears and bells
I had a conversation some years ago when I was in Montana with a story-telling, tobacco chewing (and spitting) cowboy. It was fall and I’d wanted to go horseback riding on Big Mountain. Turns out you are required to have a guide for this, so I hired one, his name was Cowboy Dave. Cowboy Dave is one of these larger than life, colorful characters who can spin a yarn a minute. He wore a big ten-gallon hat and had a huge Montana belt buckle…nearly the size of the state of Montana! He entertained me all day with one story after another. They were all made up of course. Toward the end of the day I asked about the effectiveness of bells in scaring off bears. I was planning to go hiking the next day in Glacier Park, where there are also grizzlies, and wondered if I should take some bells along. Cowboy Dave leaned back in his saddle and said (with a long drawn out cowboy drawl)…”well, do you know the difference between black bear scat and grizzly bear scat?” I thought about potential answers, and brilliantly surmised that this was not going to be about size and color…so answered, “No Cowboy Dave, I do not know the difference”. His response was simple and straightforward, “the grizzly bear scat has the bells in it” Nuff said. I should add that when I find myself hiking and worried about the bears, I just start singing. Those of you who have heard me sing know that this is enough to scare off anything.

Walking stick w/silly bear bell (bright green). I guess the bright color makes it easier to see in the bear scat.

Eureka! On the Trail of Anton Money

It all starts with a dirt road. Its long, its steep, it twists and turns and it’s a two and a half hour dust storm. Totally fun…now I know what a 4 wheel drive is really for! I arrived at the public boat ramp of Frances Lake and was greeted by Andrea Laternser. She and her husband Martin, own the Frances Lake Wilderness Lodge. After a 40 minutes boat ride, I found myself on the shore of one of the most stunningly beautiful lakes I have ever seen. I should mention that in the 40-minute boat ride, I did not see another boat, another person or any sort of home or structure on the lake…pure wilderness. The campsite is composed of one main cabin or lodge and a handful of unique guest cabins. One of them was completely reconstructed from the remains of one of the Hudson Bay posts on the lake. These are rustic cabins…no electricity and no running water. Even though it is very rustic and remote, I enjoyed some fantastic meals prepared by the camp cook. The owners are great. They are both experienced guides and know quite a bit about the local lore and history.








Hudson Bay Company Cabin

20 Year old Girl's Cabin

During my first full day, the history of the Frances Lake region area of the Yukon really came alive. We boated and hiked to a couple of old Hudson Bay Posts. The original cabins, dating from 1930-40s were in various stages of decay. One of the posts had markers of both Indian and white settlers graves. These particular posts were the second Hudson Bay Company installations. The employees of the first posts (circa 1880’s) either perished or abandoned them due to starvation. The starvation issue puzzles me as the area has an abundant amount of moose, caribou, sheep and fish. No one knows why this happened…but it did. Most believe the people the company sent the first time were ill equipped to exist in the wilderness. We also hiked to the remains of a couple of other cabins, each with a unique story. I could write a book about these people, they are so fascinating. One worth mentioning here is the story of a 20-year-old girl who came to this very remote part of the Yukon in 1970 all alone. On her own, she built a cabin and managed to sustain herself for 1-2 years. No heat, no electricity, no running water, and no grocery store! The winters are quite cold here, sometimes reaching temperatures of -80F. Bears outnumber people by a substantial margin…and they are higher on the food chain. On one of the posts of the cabin, she carved her name and the period of time she lived in the cabin. I ran my fingers over it again and again…both intensely curious about her and impressed by her grit. This is truly an amazing account on a number of levels. I should mention that she is still alive today and has been in contact with the owners of the Wilderness Lodge. I hope to be able to contact her one day.

In preparation for the second day, which was devoted to searching for Anton Money’s cabin, Martin, Andrea and I poured over maps, re-read parts of the book and compared the pictures of Money’s hand-drawn maps and written accounts of the location of his gold strike and his cabin. Money’s autobiographical account states that he would hike +/- 3 miles from his strike on Finlayson River to the cabin. He also writes that his cabin is about 5 miles north of what is now called “Money” creek. We ended up with a reasonably tight radius in which to search. The other helpful information we had were the photographs in the book. The photos show a rock outcropping upon which he built a second larger cabin, the original cabin and outbuildings were below this on more level ground. The area at the time of the photos had been completely cleared of the original cypress timber, and you could see that the cabin faced the lake.

It took us quite a while to get from the Wilderness Lodge to the end of the lake where we intended to search. I didn’t mind however. It was a sunny, brisk day and the lake was as smooth as glass…beautifully reflecting the sky and the mountains. As we neared the Finlayson delta I looked for something that would resemble the photo. The shoreline on both sides was completely wooded…not a clearing to be had. We asked ourselves…where in this vicinity would you build a cabin if you had a choice. Someplace sunny, someplace with a good view of the lake, all came to mind. Most certainly you’d want it to be a reasonable distance from where you were working each day. We eventually focused on an area that curved a bit from the river delta and faced down the lake…and into the sun. It had an obvious rise and it also was covered with very different timber…new growth timber, which included poplar and birch. We beached the boat and began hiking. Not very far into the hike we came upon decaying building remnants, which included a cabin and some out buildings. This was exciting…my heart raced with the prospect of having found the very thing I’d been dreaming about for some time..and certainly for over 3,000 miles. The cabin was completely dilapidated, so there was really no way to identify it.
Money's Cabin remains (?)







Further, there was evidence at the site of items that most likely would have post-dated Money’s time there (80 years ago). For instance, there was a large iron stove still standing. It is unlikely that Money would have had anything like this as transport of something this size would probably have necessitated an overland trip…the dirt road I traveled down was not build until 30 years after Money left Lake Frances! However, Martin explained to me that it was common practice to re-use abandoned cabins…particularly among the First Nation people. We then hiked up higher in search of the second cabin. We covered the entire area, but could not find any remains of a second cabin. From the location of the ruins I gazed out onto the expanse of the Yukon wilderness. This view has not changed since the time Money was here. Its rugged beauty inspires as much today, as it did 80 years ago.





I do not know, and perhaps never will if the cabin we found was Money’s. It certainly fits the area described. One thing that is for certain however… I’ve learned that people love a quest. Everyone I told about this wanted to know more, wanted the title of the book, wanted me to tell them how it all turned out. I got all sorts of advice from the local Canadians on how to manage the logistical problems of getting to the site, including an offer to drive me to at least the boat ramp and pick me up a few days later. Martin and Andrea turned out to be great quest partners. They really engaged in the search and now have another colorful character to add to the Frances Lake Yukon lore. I gifted them the book. It seemed the rightful home for Money’s story….back to where it all began. As for me, I found much more than the ruins of an old cabin. My reward for this quest is, I think, the same as every other person who embarks on such an endeavor. It’s the priceless experience of making new friends along the way, living your goals, and the enlightenment that comes from the journey.

Cabin at the Camp


Bob, if you are reading this, thanks for the inspiration. I gave it my very best shot.

PS. A fantastic, pristine wilderness adventure spot: www.franceslake.ca

Being Fierce

Watson Lake, Yukon (3,500~ miles traveled) Shortly before leaving for Alaska I began reading a book titled This Was The North, given to me by my neighbor, Bob Reynolds. The book is the autobiographical story of Anton Money. It’s a fascinating read about a young man of 22 who comes to Alaska in 1923, leaving behind a life of privilege in England. He begins his life in Alaska as a clerk with the Hudson Bay Company. He does not long remain a clerk however. The rugged beauty of the North, the chance to pit himself against one of the most harsh climates on the planet, and the potential of finding gold all conspire to lure him away from his desk job. He tells a moving story of developing new skills, learning to work with different cultures (The Native Americans) and building the confidence needed to strike out on his own. Lastly, in many ways it’s a story about being successful on his own terms. He eventually does make a gold strike, and builds a cabin on Frances Lake in the Yukon Territory. He lives here happily for many years with his wife and 2 sons. There are other stories like his about the people who came to settle this part of America. They were all rugged, fierce individuals. As most of you know, many came here during the gold rush, few ever found gold, and even fewer had the capacity to live here.

I am leaving in few hours to go to Frances Lake to search for Money’s cabin. II'll be a there a couple of days. ts been quite an adventure already, just trying to figure out how to get there. The major challenge is the fact that this place is so remote, there are no services available. In particular there is no gas available for over 233 miles. When I pull the trailer, I cannot drive 233 miles before needed to fill-up. My first thought was to purchase a couple of those plastic fuel carriers and a manual pump. This seemed like the way to go, until I imagined careening down a desolate, bumpy road with all that fuel…hmm, rocket man. Maybe not. Then I thought about parking the trailer in Watson Lake and driving the SUV, buying a tent to camp-out in and hiking to Money’s old cabin. I looked at the maps and realized that Money’s cabin (general direction…I don’t know where it is exactly) is a long way from any road…lots of hiking….maybe days worth. I was actually going to do this, until a local told me about a couple that have a wilderness camp up on the lake. I wrote them and they have agreed to let me stay at their camp, and we’ll go by boat in search of the cabin.

You may be wondering…why go to all the trouble? I could tell you that I promised Bob I would go to the cabin, and that would be a true statement. But, it is more than that. I am beginning a new phase in my life. I am inspired by people like Anton Money. I love the idea of success on your own terms, especially after you’ve tried it on someone else’s. Most of all, I’d like to be a little fierce myself

Getting Ready

Dawson Creek, British Columbia (~3,100 miles traveled). Busy, busy. Dawson Creek is at the head of the Alaskan Highway. It is the last city of any size before reaching Fairbanks, Alaska. I am busy stocking up on the essentials as well as stuff I think I may not be able to get once I make the push toward Alaska. I am busy pouring over maps at the moment. I am changing my originally planned route as I have a quest to complete before getting to Denali. My neighbor and friend, Bob Reynolds gave me a book a couple of weeks ago which has inspired me. There are reasons and details...which I'll write about next...promise!

In the meantime, I've posted a few (ok about 25) pictures from my first week on the road. The slideshow is at the left. I think if you click on it..you may be able to see the pics, and the captions in a larger format. Let me know.

I'll close for now....still gotta work out some additional details of the new route...plus, there is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight between 3-5am mountain time that I don't want to miss!

Essential Fire

Jasper, Alberta, (~2,800 miles traveled) Its dusk and Maya and I have just finished our nightly walk around the campground. I’ve been spying tonight (ok…maybe I’ve done that once or twice before….but no more than that!). I’ve been spying on the other campers, but tonight, I did so with clear purpose. I want to know about their campfires. What kind of people build these great blazing pits of warmth and comfort? I ‘d like to know. In fact, I think I’ve wanted to know all my life. Oh, I’ve managed the cheery fire in the household hearth. It looks good. I guess it creates a certain ambience and all…but no one is really counting on it for anything. I mean all the houses I have lived have central heat. But the real thing…in the great outdoors, for cooking and keeping warm, and sharing a good story or two with friends..… has eluded me. I build them. Some of them even look impressive at first. But they eventually all suffer the same fate, some sort of smoldering, fizzling, campfire wannabe that eventually dies out. Can’t cook with them and certainly can’t use them for warmth.

So here is what I saw tonight. People with great fires have all sorts of camping equipment, in all sizes and colors. Some are in tents, some in RV’s (even the rented ones that have those obscene 1-800 RENTRV on them). Most of them had a good supply of neatly stacked wood. They had tidy camps…..and someone was always tending the fire. I have a suspicion that there is something else that just doesn't meet the eye...I may have to do more spying...!

As I write this entry, I’ve built a fire. I am watching it right now, tending to it. I have put to the test the elements that seem to be essential…here they are:


1. Start with your intention (building a big, warm fire)
2. Gather the necessary elements, start small and build upon success
3. Watch over it …be attuned to what is needed, adjust as necessary
4. Don’t be stingy with the wood
5. Sit back, relax and enjoy every second
6. When its time to go, make sure its completely out, smoldering embers are trouble.


I’ll keep you posted regarding my success. I have lots of time to work on this…after all building and enjoying a great fire is a journey.

Those of you out there that are proficient at this…please feel free to e-mail or comment with suggestions.

A Checkered Past

Moose Jaw Saskatchewan, Aug 9 (~2,100 miles traveled). Moose Jaw, it’s a place with a colorful history, to match its rather unusual name. If you’ve ever traveled much in Canada you too must have noticed that the “moose” rules. There are more roadside warnings of moose hazards (i.e. hitting a moose on the highway or any roadway is likely to put an end to the car and likely the driver and/or passengers). The warning signs range from comical to downright frightening…and as such, are pretty effective. Anyway on to Moose Jaw.

Moose Jaw was originally settled as an Indian fur trader’s camp. The name Moose Jaw is derived from the Cree Indian name for the place, moscastani-sipy. The term means a “warm place by the river” To the white settlers, the first two syllables, “mosca”, sounded like Moose Jaw.

A railroad was eventually built here, farming commenced and the town’s prosperity eventually depended on the success (or failure) of wheat crops.

At the turn of the century, a large number of Chinese immigrants came to Moose Jaw to labor in the steam laundries and gunnysack factories. They worked in basements, which were scattered throughout the town. A series of tunnels eventually connected much of this, creating a whole “underground” world. The conditions these people worked in were despicable.

American prohibition brought a whole new, and much more lucrative trade to Moose Jaw…bootlegging. During the 1920’s Moose Jaw grew to become a hub of illegal liquor distribution into Chicago and elsewhere in the mid-west. The tunnel system provided excellent cover for the operation. Speak-easies, prostitution and gambling all flourished in Moose Jaw. This colorful chapter in Moose Jaw’s history is now a pretty interesting tourist attraction, complete with a tunnel tour, actors and a fair amount of animation. Worth seeing if you find yourself in this neck of the prairie.

On the subject of Moose, the mascot of this road-trip, the protector of the trailer is lacking a name. Not sure of the gender since I only have the head…but as you can see from the photo…its one very attractive moose. This moose holds a place of prominence on the wall of my trailer, and is deserving of name fitting its station in life. So, send me your name suggestions…e-mail or comments section is fine.

I need a name!

Of Loons and Laughter...

Whiteshell Lake, Manitoba. Aug 6-7 (~1,700 miles traveled) . In my last post I mentioned that I believed I was getting the hang of all this. I am at this moment sitting at a picnic table in a campground a few miles from the Ford Dealership in Winnipeg. You may be wondering why I would chose to locate myself near a Ford dealership when I have the great outdoors at my disposal. Well, it seems it was my turn to be given a lesson ..or two. While the beginning of this story doesn’t start off all too well…it certainly ends on a positive note…so read on.

I arrived yesterday (Wednesday) in the early evening at the Whiteshell Lake Provincial Park in Manitoba. The weather was fantastic, about 78 degrees, sunny with a light breeze. The park attendant had already left for the day by the time I got to the park. My name with a campsite designation was pinned to the door. I should add that this a very large park, encompassing several miles, and quite a few lakes, etc. As there were no campground maps to be had, I got back in my car and started driving around looking for my site. Thus began “a series of unfortunate events”. I soon discovered that this particular park has a number of dead-end roads throughout. After a few rounds of having to back up a 23 foot trailer in a small space populated with kids, dogs, boats, cars and other campers, I’d had enough and parked on a hillside corner site that was vacant. I got out and started walking the campground in search of my site. I vowed to always walk the campground instead of driving aimlessly, kicking up dust and disturbing the other folks. I eventually found my site, and walked back to my car and trailer. As I approached the trailer, it became clear to me that I had picked a poor place to park it. I was going to have a difficult time backing down the hill, making a sharp turn and avoiding the trees, picnic tables, fire pits and other campground amenities (which I now was beginning to view as obstacles). I vowed never to park in such a place again. To make a long story short, I soon became frustrated with the backing up, moving forward routine and only gaining a couple of feet of movement in the right direction…at some point the trailer was at a 90 degree angle to my truck (never a good thing) and I decided to just push back a little more and, well you guessed it, disaster struck. The trailer jack-knifed; the edge of it hit and shattered a rear-window on my truck. The sound of glass breaking does have a way of disturbing the tranquility of a campground. After some colorful language and another vow or two of things I would absolutely never do again,
went slinking into my designated campsite leaving a breadcrumb
trail of glass shards.
Pelican Island

Back at the campsite I began to contemplate the impact of this little accident on my future travel plans as well taking a closer look at the “damage”. Every time I got near the broken window, more glass shards would fall…it was as if the truck was continually berating me for the incident. Disgusted, I went back in the trailer to make dinner and ponder my options.. After about 30 minutes there was a knock on my door. I opened the door to find women from

John Lopes
(car fixing, joke telling loon spotting phenomenon)

a nearby campsite who had come to invite me to join her family and friends around their campfire. This was the first social invitation of my trip, and I must admit that I was a little taken aback and could only respond with “oh, thank you, but I couldn’t possibly. You see I had a little accident and I have to attend to a window that’s been broken”. She asked to see it, so I brought her over to the truck and started explaining what happened. When I next looked up, several more people had come to look at the window, including her husband, John. What happened next is truly a great chapter in the kindness of humanity. Within moments, all these people started to go to work on truck. Removing all the broken glass, sweeping up the shards that had fallen to the ground, vacuuming the inside of my truck, and taping plastic on window frame, etc. When it was all done, I joined them around their campfire. I must say it was an eclectic group of people. There were people from Poland, Ukraine, Portugal, the Philippines (?) and me. The fire was ablaze in the center, casting a warm glow around everyone. John was a non-stop joke machine. When he wasn’t delivering a perfectly timed punch line, he was regaling us with stories about others mishaps at the lake…my own becoming merely another funny footnote in this summers chapter. Between the warmth of the fire and the camaraderie of my new found friends…my troubles seemed to just slip away. At some point during the evening I heard, what I thought was the haunting sound of a loon. I asked others if they heard it…they had, and indeed it was a loon. There are many of them at this lake I was told. I’ve never seen one and asked when the best time would be to catch a glimpse…I was told dusk is probably best, but that they are visible throughout the day. Excellent I thought…I’ll be sure to try to get a look before I leave in the morning. It was after midnight before I made my way back to my trailer, my footsteps considerably lighter than a few hours earlier.

Next morning I went down to the lake at 5:30, camera and binoculars in hand, with my constant companion Maya, trotting along. I waited and watched for an hour or so, sipping coffee and watching the morning mist lift from the lake and slowly disappear. I could hear loons, but I could not see them. It was getting late, and I needed to make the drive to Winnipeg to have the truck fixed. I went back to my campsite and started packing up to leave. John strolled by on his way to the lake and asked if I needed any help, or if I’d be interested in a morning boat ride around the lake. I passed on the boat ride (duty calls) and thanked John for the memorable evening. Just as I was about to take off, John came back and said…you sure you don’t want to take a boat ride…I spotted a couple of loons. Perfect. I grabbed my camera bag, and walked

The Elusive Loon

down to the dock and hopped in the boat. In seconds we were skimming across a lake as smooth as glass. John pointed out the loons…a mother with her two chicks..one of whom I was told she adopted. I had the opportunity to watch them for quite a while. We also drove around the lake and I was shown various landmarks, including Pelican Island (the locals call it something else..has to do with all the droppings…I’ll spare you) and another pair of loons. John dropped me at the dock and invited the Gibson clan to visit them at their home in Manitoba anytime. A fantastic morning by any definition.

I vowed never to turn down on offer to share a campfire again.







Water beetle in the morning light.

1000 Lakes

Rainbow Falls, Ontario. Aug 4-5 (~1335 miles traveled). I think I am starting to get into the rhythm of things. I don’t feel like a total outcast when I pull into a campground now. ok..outcast may not be the best word to describe how I believe the “other” campers used to view me…entertainment would have been more appropriate. I appear to have put my campground debacle days behind me. These days I am feeling pretty confident…can pull into the campground, get to my space, back the big silver road surfer in, and get setup with nary an incident…all good. Leaves more time for the fun stuff.

So…on to the fun stuff. The drive from Sault Ste Marie to Wawa (mid-point of my drive on Monday) was absolutely fab. The highway hugs the shoreline of lake Superior affording views of the world’s largest fresh-water lake throughout. Lots of hills and amazing scenic beauty. The drive from WaWa to Rainbow Falls was not as spectacular, …the road moves a bit inland, the hills are less steep..but still, a far sight better than my usual morning commute.
(Cooling off lakeside)
Today, Maya (the road-trip dog) and I, enjoyed a 4 hour hike through the boreal forest. This is a pristine environment. A blue sky day…light breeze with the scent of pines forever present. Mid-day we reached the gorgeous high-point of the trail which offered a panoramic view of Lake Superior. The 2 hours we spent getting there was well worth the view alone. Everyone loves a surprise…and the discovery of an entire hillside of plump wild blueberries was more sublime than I can possibly describe here… a welcome addition to the power-bar lunch I had packed. I’ve never seen so many…they literally covered the hillside. I made a pig of myself. No regrets either!

On the way back to the campsite, I discovered a small beach on Whitesand Lake. It is one of 1000 or so small lakes in the region connected to Lake Superior. It was hot and the lake inviting. Amazingly, I had this end of the lake entirely to myself, not another human being in sight. I had a really refreshing swim and even managed to con Maya into joining me. She is dead asleep now…and I am still struggling to figure out how to get this blog entry uploaded using a SAT phone (no WIFI or cell coverage in these parts). If you are reading this…I somehow managed….or had to wait until I reached civilization again!




(all this to ourselves!)

Post-script. I never did get the SAT phone data connection to work. I just watched the connection time (and $) tick away while retrieving one measly e-mail message..and completely unable to upload this stuff. This just can’t be that hard. Jim Bruton (www.jimbruton.com) , a friend of mine is able to set up comms on Mt. Everest, nasty places in the Middle East, etc…if you happened to be reading this HELP!

On the Road

I've officially launched my road-trip! Left Essex on Aug 2...a bit later than scheduled thanks to all the festivities the night before. By the way, anyone reading this who attended...a big thanks...what a send-off. Loved all the gifts, wine and most of all your company.

Highlights of yesterday include a less than spectacular exit from Essex. As I was groggily pulling the StarStream down the driveway I was jolted into road-trip reality by the sound of the trailer's bumper scraping the stone wall. Ouch! I had a number of spectators (joggers, dog-walkers, neighbors) as witnesses to my trailering prowess...no real damage except to my ego! I did however make amends...as I pulled into a very full campground in Ottawa, I backed the StarStream perfectly, and I mean PERFECTLY into a rather awkward spot. It is a beautiful campground...nice roads, very wooded. Arrived in a downpour...and it rained all through the night. I settled in with a very nice glass of wine and put in a classic movie - Casablanca. Perfection.

BTW -- for those of you who were worried, the boarder crossing was a non-event. I ended up crossing into Canada on something akin to a farm road (I took the scenic route...on purpose...really). One lone guy in a small outpost. He just wanted to know where I was going, what sort of alcohol I was carrying and if I had any firearms. Over and done with in under 5 minutes.

I've included a few pics for your entertainment. What I am most proud of (beside my backup job into the campsite) is my new "office"...it just doesn't get any better than that!

Corner office...with a view