And it was such a lovely start to the day on Friday . . . !

A leisurely breakfast of pancakes at the International House of Pancakes . . .  topped up the gas in Blaine, before facing reality prices in Vancouver.  Passports and documents … check . . . . negative test results ready on phone … check.  Picked the slowest border line-up (grin) … check.  (Hmm, what was he handing to everyone??)  Within feet of the booth . . . the  US phone card in my phone must have said “oh this is Canada” . . . and immediately shut down — no buffer zone.  All documents vanished.  No problem . .  .  there are copies on Glen’s phone . . .  Nope.  Mysteriously his wouldn’t connect to internet.  After frantic, but fruitless attempts, the stony-faced CBS official filled in a yellow slip, handed me one of the mysterious white boxes . . . said “you have been randomly selected to do a Covid home test” . . . and and pointed us to a distant building.  Randomly selected, my foot — he’d been handing them out to everyone!  But at least I could re-install my Canadian SIM card and retrieve the missing info.

I don’t know what the T-Mobile guy had used to secure my regular SIM card . . . but it was laminated  and virtually impenetrable.  I tried . . . Glen tried . . . the guy behind the desk looked bored.  Finally, success.  Proof of our negative tests.  We were free to go.  It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of Spring Break — ferries would be jammed (we’d checked — there were no reservation spaces left)  Glen’s sister Sharon had generously offered their driveway once more (we had beer as payment) . . . but then I read the test kit instructions — go to directly to jail  . . . um – home . . . do not pass GO . . . do not collect $200 or make unnecessary stops along the way . . .  test must be done within 24 hours of reaching said address.   We headed for the ferries . .  . and waited. . .  2 hours and 45 minutes (thank goodness for a trailer where we could put feet up and make tea). Two hour journey from Tsawwassen to Duke Point . . . another 40 minutes home.    It was around nine  as we turned left off the highway at Duncan.  “I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Glen.  “What?” I mumbled sleepily.  “The left indicator is working again”.  For 6,500 kilometers, daylight driving with running lights had not been a problem . . .  but as soon as the headlights were fully turned on, the assisted breaking system between truck and trailer began doing strange things (including no left turn indicator).  So we avoided night driving.  Now, 2 kilometers from home it decided to work again.  Go figure!  It was lovely to be home — so much room!  Will tackle unpacking in the morning.

Saturday — anxious to get The Test over and done with (it had to be virtually monitored via Zoom equivalent) I attempted to open the LifeLabs site we’ve used multiple times before . .  . didn’t recognize password.  Reset . . .  twice.  “Gle-en . .  . I need help!”  Lots of tutting and cursing later we had forms filled out and an appointment for the test about an hour later.  Very nice young lady on the other side of the screen ran through the instructions.  “This is a combination oral/nasal swab” . .  . “Eww”, said I . . .  “sure hope it’s in that order!”  . . . we shuddered and giggled over thoughts of it being reversed. (Carry On Nurse and mixed up thermometers comes to mind) .  .  . anyway, I digress.  Five second cheek swab each side . . . left nostril, then right to the count of 15 . . .  into test tube . .  . label . . . ziplock bag . . .  shiny metal pouch . . . back into original box (struggle) . .  . sealed  envelope . . . shipping label.  Phew!  What about pick-up/drop-off? . .  . no problem . .  . any Life-Labs location — they’re open until 3 on Saturdays (it was now 1:00pm).

Off I set.  The office on Ingram Street would probably be less busy – –  forgot that the Saturday Farmers’ Market would be in full swing – blocking the road. Parked car and walked.  Rattled the Lab door .  . . locked. Never mind, there’s a bigger office at Beverly Corners.  No . .  .Completely dark — notice of office hours unhelpfully stating they closed at noon!  Now what?  Other options included scheduling a Fed-Ex pick up (not available on weekends) . . .  or driving to Victoria or Nanaimo to drop off at a participating Shoppers’ Drug store (I draw the line at that).  Not wanting a Canadian Border Services representative carting me off for questioning, I phoned Life Labs head office in Richmond.  “No Problem”, said the cheerful voice on the other end . .  .. “just put it in the fridge – it’ll be good for 5 days, and drop it off or call Fed-Ex on Monday”.  Why wasn’t that given as an option in the instructions!   Arrrrgh!

Not exactly the ending we’d hoped for the holiday . . . but it was a minor bagatelle . .  to be expected with bureaucracy . .  and in no way detracted from the outstanding trip we’d just experienced.  You can all breathe a sigh of relief that more rambling emails won’t be cluttering up your inboxes.

Great to see clear skies this morning.  Had just pulled onto the road heading north to Dunsmuir when Mount Shasta filled the view ahead.  Clear and smothered in snow.  OMG . . . and not a place to stop.  Quick, where’s my camera?  Dunsmuir is a quaint old town.  Great old movie theatre.  Fire crew was out polishing the fire trucks.  Unusual stone church, and the burger joint was just starting production – collection of signs from all over covering it’s walls.

Drove through the town of Weed . . . and who wouldn’t want a t-shirt! (apologies for this and other photos taken while driving).

Climbing (yet again), and within minutes of leaving the evergreen forests around Dunsmuir we are into high desert again . .  . brown hills devoid of much except sage brush, a few trees and tufts of grass.  Small herds of black angus don’t seem to mind.

Just south of Yreka (a local source says it’s pronounced Why-reeka) . . . a large metal cow and calf . . . standing in a field.  Neat.  Then a similar distance north of town a huge dragon . . . also in tones of rusted metal.  This had to be checked out.  Google search found the source – an artist in Yreka. https://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/16421

Would we reach Cresswell Bakery just south of Eugene, Oregon before closing time?  It would be close . .  . really wanted some of those delicious chicken pies we’d had on the trip down.   Twenty minutes to six we screeched into the parking lot . .  .  would there be any left so late in the day?  No cooked Chicken pies . . .  but lots of Beef ones.  We’ll take three.   And in a cooler to one side I espied packages of ready-to-cook pies, for taking home . . . . yes!!

Munching on flaky, beef and vegetable-filled  pastries, we set about finding a place along the way for the dreaded Covid test tomorrow . . . and settled on Portland.

Up early . . . appointments booked for 1pm . . . . address plugged into Google maps.  Thought we might grab some quick pancakes at iHop in Salem . . .  should just be enough time and still make it to Portland on time.  Would you believe it . .  . there was a looong line up . . . at 10:30 on a Thursday morning.  Don’t these people know we’re in a hurry?!  No time to wait, so off we set once more.

Portland reached, but this area of town was less touristy, and didn’t seem to accommodate RVs.  However around the back of the Fred Meyer store was just enough room.  Didn’t get our pancakes, but the Panda Express on the corner was loading up their smorgasboard with steaming, freshly made Chinese food – looked appetizing and was surprisingly tasty too.

Presented ourselves at the appointed time and place for testing – and how cool is this . . .  it’s an old Subway restaurant . . .  with counter and bread oven still in place.  Two tests, and two 6 inch subs to go!!  Had barely got back on the road when the emails came through with results . .  . both negative.  Drove over the bridge and into Washington feeling greatly relieved.

Seattle at rush hour  — not fun . .  . but the couple who provided a camping space for the night more than made up for it.  Long time Boondockers and adventurers, they welcomed us in, and insisted we join them for dinner.  What a lovely way to spend our last night before crossing the border the tomorrow.

Things always look better in the light of day, and with a mug of coffee in hand.  We had a plan.  If we stayed at places with full hookups we wouldn’t really need the reservoir of fresh water – evenings and mornings would be fully covered with water, power and sewer . . . . and the pressurized tank would hold enough water for toilet use along the way.  Perfect!  There’s always a silver lining . . . this could have happened at the beginning of the trip . . .  or worse . .  . it could have been one of the OTHER tanks that was leaking.  Perish the thought!

Encountered a poor guy whose car had quit on a highway bridge . . .  he was desperately trying to push the car up-hill.  Of course cars were backed up, tempers frayed . . .  at least someone had stopped to help.  Then just a 100 yards on a fender-bender in the fast lane . .  . more frustration.  At least in Canada when there’s road rage you’re more likely to be stabbed with a health card than confronted with a gun! Keep calm and carry on.  Nasty accident ahead between a Semi truck and small car . .  Truck’s bumper was torn off . . .  the car was crumpled into a ball.  Shudder.

On the way to Glen’s friend Neil in Auburn, was the old goldrush town of Placerville.  Lovely winding tree-covered road beside a meandering stream – leaves newly emerged and spring green in the sunlight.  Large spreading oak trees with 2 or 3 horses shading beneath.   Suddenly, without so much as a by your leave, that road ended and we were confronted with a freeway, 2 Walmarts and a cascade of thundering traffic.  WHAT!!    Quick detour through a busy Safeway parking lot to gather our bearings.  Traffic appears to be funnelled through one half of Placerville, while the other half has the historical old buildings and allows visitors to amble at a more sedate pace.  Not as nice as Bisbee, but pleasant.  Had a wonderful old Hardware Store – claiming to be the oldest in the US.  Creaky, uneven floors . . . all different levels . . . endless assortment of nuts, bolts, kitchen gadgets, hunting knives, tea, mugs, garden equipment, boots, artificial bear claws, dungarees, used false teeth, postcards,  t-shirts, fertilizer.  THAT’s what a hardware store should be.

 I think Miss Google was having a laugh at our expense . . . probably payback for all the time we shunned her suggestions.  According to her, Highway 49 to Auburn was a mere 5 minutes longer than Highway 99 and didn’t go through Sacramento.  In a car, it would have been a dramatic but enjoyable drive, hairpin bends, staggering drop offs, high bridges, white water rivers far below.  Towing a trailer, less so . .  . considerably less so.  Going up was ok . . .  coming down through endless narrow hairpin bends, no paved pull outs to allow brakes to cool (just uneven soft gravel considerably below road level) and a line of impatient traffic behind.  Definitely stressful!  I think my fingerprints are permanently embedded on the armrest. Still, we’d made it to Auburn – only an hour and a half later than Miss Google’s 5 minutes.  Now to find Neil’s place.  Two gravel lanes in close proximity with no identifiable signage . . . of course we took the wrong one and ended up bouncing along a rutted driveway to the astonishment of a young boy playing outside his house.  Tricky bit of maneuvering and a friendly wave to the young lad who still stood mouth agape, and we took the next turnoff.  Despite an ever narrowing road we wound our way up to Neil’s property.  What a delight.  Green dappled light . . .  wide area to turn around and park . . .  not another house in sight . . . and a warm welcome.

Overnight it rained . . . quite hard. The first proper rain since starting out five and a half weeks ago.

Neil had coffee on in the morning . . . had a good visit . . .  Glen drooled over the extensive workshop and collection of motorbikes and classic cars.  Stopped for gas and an AM/PM Breakfast Croissant (!) to save time . .  . not the worst food ever.  This time we stuck to Freeway driving . .  . no precarious mountain roads today.  Sky was a just-washed pale blue with soft grey/white clouds . .. the verges were green . . . fields of yellow mustard waved gently in the breeze dotted with splashes of orange California poppies or blue Lupins.

Wish I’d had my camera ready . .  .  sign announcing:  “Sheriff Detention Center” (!).  Another advertised:  “Duck Blinds Available” . . . venetian, perhaps? . . .  a nice organza or polyester?

Pulled over for ten minutes to wait for an intense downpour to ease.  It had been a long day of driving, so we were glad to pull in at the Railroad Park Campsite in Dunsmuir.  There are railcars and cabooses people can rent, but we were happy with a nicely treed site and hook-ups.