Somewhere near Swan Lake/Kispiox River
We’re now headed along Route 16, aka Yellowhead Highway. I find it humorous that we’re passing through towns named after characters from ‘The Simpsons’ (ok so they were probably established before the show) . There’s Burn’s Lake, the town of Smithers, and Mt Blanch(er). I mean really. Do you suppose Matt Groening closed his eyes and set his fingers down on a Canadian map to find names for his character’s? Aside from having a slightly snide smirk upon my face as I drove down the highway, there wasn’t really a lot to report. We took our usual pee and gas (auto not mammal) breaks and just kept moving North West.
There was one particularly nice watering hole long the route and the dogs were able to to cool off and play.
and then it was a long ride for the rest of the day. Poodles relaxed
My goal for the day was to reach Kispliox River Provincial Park, a mere blip of a lake on the map. I wasn’t disappointed about it’s blip-ness. I couldn’t find it. Instead I found a Forest Service Road. OK, the truth is that I Thought the road was leading to the park, but after a number of miles it was clear that either
1. it Did lead to the park, but I wasn’t going to drive another single mile anyway
2. I was so lost that I’d never find the lake.
In either case, I was tired and hungry and decided that I wasn’t going to drive any further. I found an area large enough to pull into with the camper and called it a night.
SO I set up our campsite and proceeded to have the worst night’s sleep in 28 days of the trip.
The night started off by my finding fresh bear poop outside the camper. It was pouring rain and too crappy to continue down the dirt road so we weren’t leaving. My need to monitor the dogs when went out meant opening and closing the door numerous times. This of course let in the bugs… and lots of them. Once settled for the night, we crawled into bed for a short fitful attempt to sleep in the damp chill of the night. It didn’t take long for the bugs to flush us from our sleep. No sooner had I smashed and smacked the last irritating mosquito than another three would buzz around my head or bite my face. I couldn’t figure out how the mosquitoes were getting into the camper. The mosquitoes were the worst with their insistent buzzing.
What I didn’t know was that one of the window screens was ajar. Not the kind of jar that would capture and hold insects… the kind that them through in droves.
Well, I started dancing around the camper swatting at mosquitoes, black flies and ‘no-see’ms.’ I never could have predicted the next stage of the game. Eureka became frantic. She began to shake uncontrollably and pant to the point of near hyperventilation. I’d created a cascade of panic in my poor girl that took many nights to undo. Her terror of my swatting and hitting (and cursing) transitioned to the sound of the mosquitoes themselves. I was doomed. I couldn’t kill the bugs because even the lifting of my hand set her into a state of fear but the sound of one little bug resulted in the same state of her mind. It was a long sleepless night of my holding Eureka trying to sooth her.
Along with a night-long buzz buzz buzz of bugs bugs bugs was the night-long gentle and maddening pitter patter of tiny rain drop drop drops. We welcomed the morning light, even though it was masked by a dark rain laden cloud layer.