LINK: Are Your Buns Sticky?
For those of you who followed my Road Trip to Alaksa, you know the sticky buns stories.
But for those of you who are uninitiated, check out Are Your Buns Sticky? on the foodie site Daily Eats!
August 10, 2005
June 14, 2005
Tok, AK to Anchorage, AK
The final leg of the trip was very much of
an "are we there yet" drive.
We travelled the Tok Cutoff to the
Glenn Highway that connected
Tok to Anchorage.
I finally started using the Milepost we
had purchased for the drive to announce
everything mile by mile. The Milepost
is a travel guide for road trips to Alaska
and around Alaska with a milepost-by-
milepost description of the drives.
When I first bought it, I couldn't figure
out how to read it or what in the world
it was telling me. But once on the Alaska
Highway, it became more and more useful
for everything from rest stops to motels
to restaurants.
As we approached Glenallen, we discussed
possible places to eat. Greg had eaten at
the Caribou Hotel and thought it was good.
But I noticed an entry in the highway log
portion of the Milepost that caught my eye:
Brown Bear Rhodehouse - Because of the
excellent food, reasonable prices and Alaskan
hospitality, this famous old lodge is a favorite
eating and gathering place for local people
and travelers alike. If eating in the Glenallen
area, we recommend stopping here, and if
coming south, it is well worth the extra few
minutes' wait. Superb steaks and seafood
are the specialties, along with broasted
chicken and the widest sandwich selection
in the area. Your hosts, Doug and Cindy Rhodes,
have managed to take one of the largest
grizzly brown bear photograph collections
anywhere. So, if not dining, you will enjoy
just stopping and looking at the many
photographs that cover the walls. This is
the only place in the area where you have
camping, cabins, restaurant and bar at
one stop. This is also the only place on the
highway to get a bucket of golden brown
broasted chicken to go.
Sounded perfect.
When we arrived at the "lodge," we should
have known something was fishy. Not much
of a lodge really, more like a shack.
As we stepped through the door, we entered
some kind of cosmic reality warp. Let's see.
How can I describe this? Let's take a closer
look at the description in the Milepost, shall we?
Brown Bear Rhodehouse - Because of the
excellent food, reasonable prices and Alaskan
hospitality, this famous old lodge is a favorite
eating and gathering place for local people
and travelers alike.
It was peak lunch time. The lot in the Caribou
Hotel was jammed. The lot here was...empty.
There was...one local at the bar, no locals or
travelers other than us in the restaurant.
If eating in the Glenallen area, we
recommend stopping here, and if
coming south, it is well worth the extra few
minutes' wait.
While there was no one else frequenting
this establishment, we did have a long
wait before anyone acknowledged our
presence, much less greeted us and
brought us menus.
Superb steaks and seafood are the
specialties, along with broasted
chicken and the widest sandwich selection
in the area.
Cannot comment on the steaks, however,
the sandwich selection couldn't have been
much more than five or six. But then again,
maybe other places simply don't offer
any sandwiches at all.
And the broasted chicken. Ah, the broasted
chicken.
"Don't have any. Truck didn't come in," said
the sour-faced waitress curtly. Turned out
she was one of the owners. Her husband
was the only other person in the place
besides the lone local at the bar. He had
eyed us suspiciously when we first walked
in and didn't even nod, smile or say hello.
Your hosts, Doug and Cindy Rhodes,
have managed to take one of the largest
grizzly brown bear photograph collections
anywhere. So, if not dining, you will enjoy
just stopping and looking at the many
photographs that cover the walls.
Of course this sounded interesting to National
Geographic Man who quickly scoffed at the
"largest collection." There couldn't have
been more than about 20 photos and many
were obviously commercial shots, not shots
taken by the owners.
"I know people who have taken over 83
ROLLS of grizzly bear photos. This is NOT
the largest collection," Greg said, shaking
his head. It took us all of 2 minutes to view
the photos.
This is the only place in the area where you have
camping, cabins, restaurant and bar at
one stop.
Well, it better have all these things because
there is little way this place can stay in
business if they didn't try to cover all
the bases.
This is also the only place on the
highway to get a bucket of golden brown
broasted chicken to go.
Well, no you can't if the truck didn't come
in that day. And did I mention their $20
pizzas???
Needless to say, we all had a bowl of
chicken mushroom soup and got the
heck out of there.
Upon closer inspection of the Milepost,
I read the last word in smaller type and
parenthesis at the end of the blurb about
the Rhodehouse.
[ADVERTISEMENT]
Duh!
The rest of the trip to Anchorage was
pleasant enough but the 3.5 hours seemed
to stretch on until the end of time.
Finally, we were in Anchorage and heading
straight to the house Greg rented for us.
The road to the house headed straight
toward mountains although stopped at
a tidy cul-de-sac.
The house looked just like the photos Greg
had emailed me.
"We're here!" I shouted, then jumped from
our dirty, dusty vehicle and ran into the house
to get a tour.
The place looked great on first glance with
four bedrooms, 2 baths, a nice living/dining/kitchen
area, and perfect backyard for the Chihuahuas.
We're here. We're finally home.
Stay tuned for more about Anchorage, Alaska!
June 10, 2005
June 09, 2005
Whitehorse, Yukon to Tok, Alaska
Wednesday, June 8, 2005
In the morning, I didn't want to leave the Inn
on the Lake, but I knew that we had to keep
moving. Carson had packed us breakfasts
for the road and the coffee maker was prepped
with organic coffee so we savored a cup before
heading out.
(We'll Be Back)
Instead of eating the bagged breakfasts in
the morning, we thought we'd save them
for lunchtime and ate in Whitehorse at the
Edgewater instead. Then we continued north.
(Whitehorse, Yukon)
The drive was long, bouncy, and dusty.
Bouncy from the frost heave caused by
the expansion of water in the soil that
freezes in winter, pushing up into the roads
and forming humps while thawing causes
air pockets. Dusty from the long stretches
of construction.
At the construction sites on the Alaska
Highway (or maybe it is a Canada thing),
you have to stop and roll down your window
so the flagman (or woman) can tell you
what to expect up ahead.
"You've got to wait about 2 minutes and
11 seconds for the pilot car," said one
flagman. "Then you have 500 meters
of construction up ahead. Give the trucks
the right of way. Drive...35 miles per hour,"
he instructed after glancing at our license plate
and seeing we were of the mileage persuasion.
After so much driving, you tend not to notice
all of the incredible scenery anymore - you
almost become numb to it. But then in a flash,
you look around and suddenly realize how
breathtaking the surroundings truly are.
(beautiful...)
(and beautiful...)
(and more beautiful...)
(and still beautiful...)
We stopped in Kluane National Park at
Sheep Mountain Visitor Center for a picnic
lunch that included the bagged breakfast -
hard boiled eggs, cheddar cheese slices,
muffins as well as some left over chicken.
(Sheep Mountain Visitor Center)
We were able to see ewes and lambs on
Sheep Mountain through several telescopes
on the viewing deck - a "nursery group" according
to National Geographic Man who proceeded
to explain different aspects of Dall sheep to
Mom and me as well as to the park ranger on site.
He obviously knew more than the ranger.
Back in the car. More driving and driving.
And more dusty, gravelly roads. And more
bouncing. I got into the habit of shouting "Yeehaw!"
every time we bounced over a particularly
bucking spot. A little levity for the road weary.
Years and eons later, we arrived at Beaver Creek,
the Western Most Community in Canada and the
last real stop before the border. We filled up
on gas and Greg, as usual, chatted up some
people nearby. Turns out they were on their
way to visit a niece who lives and works in
Anchorage. Also turns out the niece works
in the same building as Greg and attended
the same Christmas party. Yes, he knew her.
(Beaver Creek)
This kind of thing happens often with Greg.
Once we went for lunch at a little cafe in
Centennial, Wyoming (pop: 100). Greg began
to chat with an older couple and during the
conversation revealed that he was working
a temporary position in Washington, DC
and was just in Wyoming to visit me for a
few days.
"Our daughter works in DC," they said.
Turns out their daughter worked in the same
building as Greg. Yes, the same building out
of all office buildings in Washington, DC.
I know the world is very small in some ways,
but this type of thing tends to happen to Greg
very often. Probably because he talks to strangers
everywhere we go.
(Almost in Alaska)
(Alaska bound!)
Before the border, we made the obligatory
stop at the Alaska sign, posing for the perfect
tourist shots. Then we got to the border and
were ushered ahead with only a few questions
and no errant talk about explosives from the
man in the car, although I did point out a sign
to him at the border and he proceeded to
read it out loud instead of getting the inside
joke silently.
"Keep HOOF AND MOUTH DISEASE out of the
state," he read aloud, loudly.
We were still allowed to cross the border.
We were now officially in Alaska!
(Road to Tok)
The goal was to get to Tok and have dinner with
Greg's friends Jeff and Heather. We had about
90 miles left, and they were the longest 90 miles
in my life. I was tired, hungry, and cranky and
just wanted to get there NOW. Greg remained
cheery and positive even as I got surly.
(One of the main roads through Tok)
Finally we were in Tok, Alaska, population 1800.
We searched for a dog-friendly motel and
the third one was the charm. The room at
the Tok Lodge was clean but hot and stuffy
with no A/C. Still, we were grateful to have it.
We met Greg's friend Jeff (Heather was away on
business) and walked to the restaurant at another
hotel. While the place offered typical American
fare, the specialties were Mexican "because the
chefs are actually Mexican," explained the waiter.
We ordered off the Mexican portion of the menu,
and I had a few Alaskan Ambers, a delicious
microbrew that I had just sampled for the
first time last month in Laramie, Wyoming at
the Overland Restaurant. The beer was
cold and delicious!
I had Arroz con Pollo and Mom had Carne
Asada. The food was tasty and authentic or at least
more authentic after Mom and I asked them
not to put cheese on anything (not on the chicken,
not on the beans). It is a very American thing
to melt cheese on top of Mexican dishes.
After dinner, I was fading fast so Mom and I headed
back to the room. I was able to get online to
update this blog but still not able to upload
photos quickly enough. After an hour attempting
to upload, I finally gave up, showered and went
to sleep. Six more hours of driving left until I'm
at my new home.
June 08, 2005
From Muncho Lake, Bc to Whitehorse, Yukon
Tuesday, June 7, 2005
My sister has been following my sticky bun quandry
and has sent some proof of the existence of
sticky buns including a definition of sticky buns...
Noun
1. sticky bun - rolled dough spread with sugar and nuts then sliced and baked in muffin tins with honey or sugar and butter in the bottom
caramel bun, honey bun, schnecken, coffee roll, sweet roll - any of numerous yeast-raised sweet rolls with our without raisins or nuts or spices or a glaze
and sticky buns in the news...
Nerves of steel needed for sticky bun fight. 16/05/2005. ABC News Online
http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200505/s1369035.htm
A dozen people in Hong Kong have scrambled up a steel tower covered in buns reviving a religious ritual banned 26 years ago when the former British colonial government declared it too dangerous...
The mystery of the sticky buns has been solved!
(wood bison)
Wildlife sightings of the day:
Woodland Bison
Moose
Caribou
We had breakfast at Laird River Cafe - eggs,
bacon, brown toast, coffee - all delicious,
of course.
(the Laird River cafe)
We decided not to visit the hot springs
at Laird River after all, eager to get back
on the road. Around Laird we encountered
the first major construction that required a
pilot car and led us across dirt and gravel
for a few kilometers. I was a little panicky
about the brand new windshield I had just
put into the 4Runner. I debated about putting
it in before heading to Alaska but Greg had
made the trip July '04 without any cracks.
After our long drive, we started thinking
about places to stay for the night.
We thought we'd get as far as Whitehorse
so checked out several travel brochures for ideas
for lodging.
I saw an ad for the Inn on the Lake which offered
high speed Internet along with other first-rate
amenities including jacuzzis, fireplaces, outdoor
sauna and hot tub, fitness centre, and complimentary
kayaks, canoes and mountain bikes.
(Inn on the Lake)
What really caught my eye was the statement
"as seen on Martha Stewart Living. Hey, if
Martha endorsed it, it had to be a good thing,
right? Of course, I was certain a place like that
would never allow dogs so I noted a few other
places along the way, all down by Marsh Lake,
about 30 minutes south of Whitehorse along
the Alaska Highway.
(Marsh Lake)
The plan was to stop off at the first few places
to see if they allowed dogs and work our way
down the lake until we got to the Inn. There were
no signs for any of the establishments and before
we knew it, we were at the only sign - for Inn on
the Lake. So we turned in to investigate.
(Side view of the Inn)
As we pulled up the drive, we peeked into the garden
beyond the wooden fence surrounding the
Inn to see two men with beers in hand
and two large dogs playing in the yard.
Good sign, Greg and I agreed.
One of the men turned out to be Carson,
the owner of the Inn, who immediately whisked
me into the log structure for a tour. We stepped
into an airy kitchen where the aroma of fresh
baked goods filled the air and then into the large
open room that was half living room, half dining
room with large picture windows overlooking
Marsh Lake.
Immediately outside was a wooden deck
with the same stunning view.
Off the dining room was a sitting room with
a large collection of music CDs, an acoustic
guitar and an electric keyboard.
The downstairs finished basement was filled
with fitness equipment and a computer with
high speed Internet. Glass doors led onto the
lower deck with an outdoor hot tub and the
sporting equipment.
As we walked upstairs, I made a mental note
that if the cost was under $200 Canadian,
then we'd just have to stay here. But of course,
now that I'm married, I knew I'd have to consult my
husband. And then we would also have to consult
Mom since she was traveling with us.
"It's $175," said Carson as if reading my mind.
That's under $200, I thought.
Then he led us to the cottage where we
could stay. He opened the door to a
lovely little house with a comfortable living
and dining room and stairs on the far wall leading
to an enclosed loft room with a single and
double bed.
Downstairs off the living room was a fully
stocked kitchen, the bathroom, a room with a
single bed and a room with a double bed.
"So we share the kitchen, living room and bath
with the other guests?" I asked.
"No, this is all yours," was the reply.
Wow!
I hurried over to Mom who was waiting in the
car and pulled her out to give her a quick tour
before letting her in on the price. We all agreed
that it was going to be worth it and would count
as our official splurge since we all felt that the
previous night at the "expensive" lodge was
a disappointment.
When I had asked Carson about a nearby place
to eat, he said that they didn't have dinner planned
for the night because there weren't any other
guests there.
"We're just looking for some soup," I told him.
"Soup and salad? We could put that together,"
he said and headed off to the kitchen.
After freshening up a bit, we made our way
to the dining room only to find that he was out of
soup. But no worries. He had whipped up an
exquisite dinner of the fluffiest, tastiest
quiche I've ever had made with bits of ham and bacon
and an accent of cranberry and apple chutney on
the side.
The salad was fresh from a garden on the
premises with a light vinaigrette. The meal was
finished off with a light Canadian Chardonnay.
Sugar tarts and rhubarb cake were the desserts,
and there was one of each treat for each of us.
The irony of this meal was that actually cost
less than the soup and bread at the lodge
the previous night and was so far superior.
Thoroughly enjoyable.
(at the canoe)
(along Marsh Lake)
After dinner, Greg and I went down to the lake
and canoed about a quarter mile up and back
down the coast. Then we sat on lounge chairs on a
small deck right above the shore, listening to
the waves.
(sun at 8:30pm)
(just lounging)
(lakeview of the Inn)
We returned to our cottage around 9:30pm
with the sun still glowing low in the sky. Greg
opened up a bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz that
I'd packed with us and we sipped wine. A hot
bath finished off the evening, then I pulled
the blinds in the downstairs room shut as tightly
as possible, the sun still streaming through
but it didn't really bother me. It had been a
long day and finished in such a wonderful way.
(our cottage)
Finally, a good night's sleep.
(the Inn by morning light)
Here are photos from the day's drive:
(the 1st Yukon sign)
(the 2nd Yukon sign)
(Signpost Forest, Watson Lake)
A popular and strange tourist attraction -
post after post decorated with signs from
around the world creating a "signpost forest."
No wildlife sightings here.
(Chewie lounging at the park, lunchtime)
(Ernie lounging at lunchtime)
Lunch was a picnic at a Wye Lake Park in the
town of Watson Lake.
(along the Alaska Highway)
(along the Alaska Highway)
(along the Alaska Highway)
The goal for Wednesday's drive is Tok, Alaska.
Stay tuned!
June 07, 2005
Dawson Creek, BC to Muncho Lake, BC
Monday, June 6, 2005
Dawson Creek, not to be confused with Dawson's Creek,
the TV show, is Mile 0 of the Alaskan Highway which
used to be called the ALCAN (Alaska/Canada) by the
military but was officially dubbed the Alaska Highway
in the 1940s after World War II.
(Mile 0, Alaska Highway)
We opted not to have breakfast in Dawson Creek so
headed north on BC Hwy 97, Canada's name for this
portion of the Alaska Highway. We were thinking about
trying a Tim Horton's Restaurant, a chain of restaurants
with drive-thrus that was founded by a hockey player
who has since died. We were told they had breakfasts
but when we passed the Tim Horton's in Ft. St. John's
and circled back, there was a long drive-thru line
and I got the feeling the place was more like a
McDonald's so we decided to drive on.
(hearty Canadian breakfasts here)
Luckily, a block away, I spotted the Silver Creek
Cookhouse and noted the many worktrucks
and workmen around the establishment,
a sure sign of a good, hearty breakfast.
As we pulled up, a Peace Officer (police)
pulled up, too, so that was the final seal of
approval I needed to try the joint.
We were rewarded with another fresh,
hearty, well-prepared breakfast with good
coffee, perfectly fried eggs (Greg said they
were basted which explains their perfectly
formed shapes), and thick, meaty bacon.
Mom even had the bowl of oatmeal she had
been craving for the last few mornings and
she was not disappointed.
A helpful food tip for Canada is that
they call their wheat bread "brown" bread
or "brown" toast and usually offer white,
brown or rye.
You'll also often find on the jam and jelly
dispensers both blueberry jam and
peanut butter along with strawberry,
raspberry and orange marmalade,
honey and sometimes even Cheez Whiz.
(forest by highway)
By the time we reached Dawson Creek, we
had already traveled about 2000 miles.
To say this is a long drive is definitely an
understatement. We spent the rest of the
morning hoping to spot some wildlife.
We lucked out and saw 4 black bear.
I spotted the first one about a mile away but
as we approached, it darted into the brush
just as I snapped a photograph. My digital
camera delay prevented even a shot of the
bear's butt but trust me, we saw it!
(black bear was here)
I spotted the second bear about a mile up
the road, actually on the road, and as we drove
up, it also darted into the brush alongside the
highway. The last two bears were together,
and Greg spotted them - a sow and her
yearling according to National Geographic Man.
We drove past too quickly to stop so another
photo opp was lost.
We passed signs for moose and signs for
caribou so were on the alert but they were
nowhere to be seen for the rest of the morning.
Lunch was at a gas station cafe called Lum and
Abner's. Typical diner fare. I had a grilled cheese,
fries and a Coca Cola. For those who know me,
they will find the fact that I'm drinking Coke to
be entirely abnormal. I have maybe one soft
drink (usually Root Beer or Dr. Pepper) once
a year at the most. Since hitting the road, I've
had several but only in Canada.
(Lum and Abners, Mile 233, Prophet River, BC)
I swear that food companies use different formulas
for the States vs. Canada and other countries.
Ketchup is sweeter, Coca Cola is less sugary,
jams and jellies taste far better. I think it is a
conspiracy - give those Americans the cheap
stuff because they're a McDonald's society so
won't even notice. Save the good stuff for the
Canadians, eh?
I took the afternoon shift for driving and as the roads
got windier, the scenery got more majestic. I white-
knuckled it a little but for the most part was just
alert and cautious, giving Greg the opportunity to
gawk at the views and search for wildlife.
(view from the Alaska Highway)
As we approached Ft. Nelson, I saw a handmade
paper sign that read "Cinnamon Bun Center of
the Galactic Cluster."
"Did that just say 'Cinnamon Bun Center of
the Galactic Cluster?'" I asked, then turned into
the Tetsa River Services campground because
I just had to know.
(Cinnamon Bun Center of the Galactic Cluster)
"Yes, we have cinnamon buns here ready," said
a blonde woman with a thick German accent.
"What is the Galactic Cluster?" I asked but she
turned away and went to heat up the bun.
She returned with a hot sticky bun (my words,
not hers) and advised that we spread butter
on it. She offered us a coffee, and it was good
and strong like Europeans drink.
I was too busy getting a sugar high and caffeine
fix to remember to take a photo of the Cinnamon
Bun of the Galactic Cluster. Too bad. And we never
did find out the origin of the bun's name.
(happy puppy, happy woman)
For the rest of the drive, I was quite alert and focused,
one might even say a little wired on Galactic Buns.
We finally saw a young bull moose, about 2 years old,
drinking in a puddle by the side of the highway.
(caribou crossing)
Then at Stone Mountain, we saw a plethora
of stone sheep right on the highway, right next
to the highway and climbing the rugged, jagged
rock face of the surrounding mountains.
(spot the stone sheep)
(stone sheep, zoom view)
We eventually saw a lamb and a ram with a broken
horn, most likely from butting a another ram.
(ram missing his left horn)
As evening approached, we began the discussion
about where to stop. We could continue on to
Laird River at Mile 477 to take a late evening
dip in the hot springs, have some dinner then
call it a night.
Or we could stay at Muncho Lake and hit the
hot springs in the morning. We stopped at the
first motel at the lake. They had a double room
and allowed dogs but didn't have a place to eat.
We called ahead to the next few places and
found food and dog-friendly lodging available
6 km up the lake at the Northern Rockies Lodge
(Mile 462) which happened to be the most expensive
place in the area but the only one with something
to eat.
We decided to drive further up the lake to the
lodge which turned out to be the largest log
building on the Alaska Highway owned by
bushpilot Urs Schildknecht and his wife.
(Northern Rockies Lodge)
(Northern Rockies Lodge sign)
The lodge was an impressive structure. We checked
in immediately, moved things into our little cabin,
then headed to the dining room for something to eat.
(cabin #7)
After the heavy food and long drives of the past few
days, we weren't in the mood for the specialty of the
house - Weiner Schnitzel. Instead we had a homemade
chicken and vegetable soup with warm bread.
After dinner, Greg and I took a walk, first down to
the lake to take a few photos including some with
the float planes at the dock.
(view from the Alaska Highway)
We eventually headed back to the restaurant for
some German beer on tap and sat on the outside
deck until the mosquitos began to swarm.
(Salut!)
The cabin was drafty so it was a chilly night's sleep.
June 05, 2005
Conrad, MT to Lacombe, Alberta
Saturday, June 4, 2005
Breakfast in Conrad, MT was homecooked fare
but typical diner cuisine:
Greasy eggs? Check.
Over-buttered toast? Check.
Weak coffee? Check.
And where's the strawberry jam? You've got to
wonder when they only have grape and
mixed jelly packets.
I saw a tray of breakfast pastries on our way
out.
"What do you call those?" I asked pointing.
"Maple cinnamon breakfast rolls," was the reply.
"Don't you call them sticky buns?" I asked.
"No!" the waitress exclaimed, horrified as if
I asked her if her buns were sticky. "I don't
even know what those are!"
What is it with these towns? I swear there is
a breakfast pastry called a Sticky Bun. If you've
had a sticky bun before, please post a comment
so I don't feel so all alone.
Of course, alone I am not at the moment.
But so far, traveling with a husband and mother
is working out well despite the cramped
riding arrangements. Mom is a great
traveler, very adaptable, even stuffed
in the back seat with the dogs.
"Traveling with 3 Chihuahuas is better than kids,"
she exclaimed at one point. "They don't complain,
they don't ask for water and the don't ask 'Are we
there yet?'"
Crossing the border was practically uneventful.
I say practically because we were stopped
and asked to go inside, show our paperwork,
and answer a bunch of questions, probably
because we were towing a trailer. As we were
waiting, Greg began to chat.
"I heard this story on NPR. It was about a man
who was stopped at the border..."
"Don't talk about that right now!" I snapped.
What is it with men always wanting to talk about
explosives, firearms and bad border crossing
experiences while waiting in line at the airport
or at a border crossing? It is a strange compulsion.
Once back to our car, we discovered that Chewie
had a pooping accident inside. My fault. I had
fed him raisins the day before. He liked them so
I ignored Greg when he said that Chewie would
get the runs. Well, he was right, of course.
We spent 10 minutes cleaning up, throwing
out a doggie bed, doggie blanket, wiping up
with antibacterial wipes. Greg remained calm
throughout it all and didn't even voice what I
know he was thinking: "I told you so."
You know our drive to Alaska is not an extreme
adventure when I start documenting bad
poop episodes. Oh well, the goal is to get there,
not deviate from the route. I'm just focused on
the road ahead and not the life and friends
I'm leaving behind.
Canada terrain was immediately flat farmland,
green and lush from the ongoing rain.
Lunch was in Lethbridge at Ricky's, a Canadian
chain with a variety of food and even alcoholic
beverages. I got my first lesson in Canadian
cuisine when I asked for an iced tea, poured in
my usual 2 sugar packets and then discovered
the tea was already sweet.
"Are you from the States?" asked the waitress.
"Yes," I said tentatively, wondering what criticism
I'd get for admitting to it.
"I thought so. Here in Canada, when you ask for
iced tea, 95% of the time it is sweet already, the
Nestea kind from a machine," she explained.
"I knew you must be from the States because
when I was there, I asked for ice tea and it
was like..." She twisted her face into an
expression of distaste.
After lunch, Greg and I opted for a Starbucks coffee
because you always know what you're going
to get at a Starbucks.
Deciding on a place to stay, we selected a
bed and breakfast outside of Red Deer but
couldn't hail the owners on the phone. We did
drive off the highway to try to find the place,
then kept on driving the backroads with
a new destination in mind.
The Wolf Creek Inn was on the south side
of Highway 2 so we had to drive past it
until we came to the second overpass to
Lacombe, Alberta, then backtrack. After the
out of the way drive, we were tired and
hungry and just wanted to check in, but the
desk clerk was nowhere to be found.
According to the Alberta accommodations
guide, the Wolf Creek Inn had over 20 rooms
overlooking Juniper Lake which sounded
much more appealing than the other local
motel that featured off-track betting. Sounded
like a good deal, however, we waited and
waited for someone to check us in.
Ten minutes later, I left Greg at the front desk
still waiting for someone to check us in and
went straight to the "famous" Cheesetoast
Family Restaurant for their "famous" buffet.
Frankly, the food looked a little overcooked,
but I was ravenous by the time I made my
way to the buffet line so loaded my plate
with roast beef, mashed potatoes and
gravy, lasagna, boiled vegetable medley
and a big slice of cheesetoast.
Feeling giddy now that I had food in front of
me, I even ordered the house red wine which
looked like dark Kool-Aid and ended up
tasting like a mixture of flat grape soda
with a splash of cheap wine. I later
found out it was Franzia. Hmmm, must have
been an off year - like 2005.
In order to stop as early as we did (7:30pm),
I bribed Greg by saying I'd go for a walk
with him after dinner. He's of the mind that
we should be driving until bedtime but he
was happy with my offer.
So after dinner, we walked down to Juniper
Lake where I was quickly devoured by
mosquitos. I'm allergic to mosquito bites,
but I don't think Greg believed me at first.
If I don't scratch the bites, they will only
swell up to the size of a dime or smaller,
but if I scratch, they swell to the size of
a silver dollar and they can even blend
into one another to become a large
continuous welt. If I get too many bites,
I end up with a fever. They also tend to
make my joints ache like arthritis.
We quickly walked back up the hill and took
a different path through an old abandoned
campground. With the Chihuahuas in tow,
our pace wasn't as brisk, especially as I
had to carry Chewie now and then, but it
was a pleasant walk with my husband.
Returning to the room, I got out every possible
mosquito bite remedy that I could find in my
toiletries bag: tea tree oil, calendula cream and
hydrocortisone cream.
"See," I said to Greg as I applied the ointments.
He shook his head in disbelief.
"I didn't know," he admitted, vowing to protect
me from mosquitoes once we got to Alaska.
I took a couple of Advils for the joint pain in
my fingers then settled in for a restless sleep,
punctuated by dripping water in some faucet
somewhere nearby and a coughing fit from
the air conditioned air, not to mention dreams
about Tom Cruise instructing me on how to
be more self-actualized.
Next time I can get online: Lacombe, Alberta
to Dawson Creek, British Columbia...Stay tuned!
June 03, 2005
Buffalo, WY to Conrad, MT
Enduring a night in a smoky motel room
does not have the same thrill as a night in
a smoky bar.
In the latter, at least you have loud music
and stiff drinks.
In the former, you get nothing but a lumpy
bed, truckers running their engines outside,
and a scratchy throat (and you didn't even
get to sing at the top of your lungs to bad
80's music on a dance floor).
(downtown Buffalo, WY)
We woke up early and hurried out to
breakfast at Tom's Main Street Diner on
Main Street in the heart of Buffalo.
(Tom's Main Street Diner)
Mom got a kick out of the game heads
on the wall - they don't have those in Florida.
(gameheads)
Breakfast was awesome. Perfect eggs over
medium, thick bacon, and even the
coffee was good and strong.
(ready for breakfast!)
I got a lesson about morning pastries.
"Are those sticky buns," I asked the cook/owner Tom.
"The only sticky buns around here are when
a cowboy has been riding his horse for days
and hasn't had a bath!" Tom exclaimed loudly
for all the diner patrons to hear. "These are
sweet rolls."
Hmmm...they looked like sticky buns to me.
(NOT sticky buns)
As we entered Montana, we decided to stop off
for some lattes at Native Grounds, a tiny espresso
shack at Crow Agency that is owned by a young
man - No. Cheyenne Indian - named John Maxwell.
Finding the place open is very hit or miss but
on several occasions, Greg (my hubby)
and I have lucked out and had a great cup.
John is a talkative fellow who studied "coffee"
in Seattle before opening up his business.
(NOT Native Grounds)
Well, he wasn't there and his Native Grounds shack
had been transformed into an Indian Tacos shack.
So we didn't get our espresso fix.
Lunch was elk roast and elk salami at the home
of Greg's dear friends Bob and Sandy Short
in Laurel, MT. Then it was off to points West
and North.
We took I-90 to Big Timber where we turned
up 191 North, past the Crazy Mountains. Greg said
they are called the "Crazy Woman Mountains" and
I'm not sure if he was just pulling our legs because
all the signs and maps say Crazy Mountains.
(Crazy Woman Mountains?)
If you look at a map, 191 between Big Timber and
Harlowtown, it is pretty empty except for Melville.
Sort of like our empty gas tank that Greg noticed
only after we had passed any signs of civilization
and a sign that said Harlowtown was over 30 miles
away somewhere back a ways.
(NOT full)
"How far back?" I asked.
"I don't remember," Greg said, notably kicking himself
mentally for not filling up in Big Timber.
"Well, we should get there soon," I noted hopefully.
And lo and behold, there was Harlowtown, a
beacon of hope for our empty gas tank.
We pulled into town and went straight for
the Conoco. Hurrah!
Closed. I kid you not. The gas station was closed.
We puttered up to the market and were relieved
when Greg came out giving the thumbs up.
There was another Conoco on the opposite end
of town. So all was well and luckily I don't have
a "we ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere
with no cellphone signal" story to tell you!
Had dinner at Break's Ale House and Grill in
Great Falls, MT then continued on to
Conrad, MT where we're staying at a modest
motel called the Northgate.
(Northgate Motel, Conrad, MT)
Upon entering the room, I was ready to shower
and crash. Greg, of course, was raring to go
on a walk. So he bounded about the small town
while I freshened up then settled onto the
computer. My momentary dismay that there was
no phone in the room was gone when I turned
on my computer and another wireless message
popped up.
I feel like I've been living in the dark ages!
I've not been on a wireless network before
this past week. What rock have I been living
under? This wireless stuff is great!
We'll be crossing the border tomorrow morning.
Good thing I left my gun in Wyoming with a trusted
friend (and licensed gun dealer) who will ship it
to me when I get to Anchorage. Those squeamish
Canadians didn't want me taking that thing over
the border. Seems that they only allow semi
automatic handguns with magazines that have
no more than a 10 capacity and mine has 13.
Oops!
Here's to a safe, smooth passage into Canada-land.
Cheyenne, WY to Buffalo, WY
To say the afternoon travels were uneventful is a relief after
yesterday's running around in search of a roof rack.
(installing bike rack in rain)
Even though I offered to approach people in parking
lots who were getting out of 4Runners and offer them
$50 for their roof rack, my sensible husband simply
said "You're crazy" and proceeded to search for less
confrontational options.
(handyman Greg)
Finally, we settled on a bigger bike rack with all the
fixings and he installed it in an alley in the rain.
After, he was proud of the job he did and the fact
that the new rack is strong and sturdy.
(the afternoon drive started out gray and rainy...)
We didn't get on the road until 3pm (vs. 9am).
Although rainy at first, the sky soon cleared, and we
were treated to lush, green open plains speckled with
wildlife and livestock.
(...then the sun came out)
It is fawning time for the pronghorn antelope and
interspersed with pregnant does were several
that were trailed by twins.
We stopped in Casper, Wyoming at the Outback
Steakhouse for dinner. Mom is particular about the
chains where we eat.
"No Chili's or Applebee's," she insisted.
(getting close to Buffalo, Wyoming on I-25)
The remainder of the drive was a beautiful display
of setting sun on cloud formations. Our destination
was finally decided as Buffalo, WY and the Comfort
Inn along I-25 where we've stayed many times
before.
However, we soon discovered it was entirely full
so they sent us to the Wyoming Motel. They only
had smoking rooms so Mom walked a few blocks
to the gas station and purchased air fresheners,
then hurried back to spray the room like an
exterminator on steroids.
Once the lemony fumes dissipated, we were back
to a smoky-smelling room. Guess you call this
"roughing it."
Today, it is into Montana and a long day of driving
to make up for the missed time from yesterday.
4Runner is running strong and trailer is behaving
itself back there.
