July 11: Eh?

July 11, 2013: Eh?

 

 

 Mom is petting Rudy.  She doesn't recognize that I am Thunder Paws.  I like the petting, but I notice an evil spirit on her arm.  I must latch on and attack with claws and teeth.  Get that evil spirit.  What does 'detach you little shit' mean?

It is morning and I hear rain and the distant rumble of thunder.  No need to hurry today.  Rudy is ready to morph into Thunder Paws, but since it is not too light yet, maybe I can get him to relax.  I get him under the covers and he is purring.  I fall back to sleep.  I awake after 7am, which is a big thing for me.  Spouse is still out, so I get myself ready for my walk.  Crew is still sleeping too.  Thunder Paws is jonesing for attention, and I am leaving him for my walk.  I put on a rain poncho just in case and I head out. 

When I return, the males have started readying Hannah for departure.  We pull up stakes and say goodbye to Glacier National Park.  Some of you don't realize this... Spouse is a fidgeter.  We get in the truck and he has to fidget with this button or that thing.  Crew and I are constantly yelling at him to watch out as he nearly takes out motorcyclists, road signs and whatever else.  This morning, Spouse tried to blame the motorcyclist, but Crew and I did not let him off the hook.  There is safety in numbers!

 Spouse's hearing is getting worse by the day.  Crew and I are exhausted and frustrated trying to communicate with him.  But we hang in there, at least for now.

We head west on 2, then 40, then turn onto 93 which heads into Whitefish.  We can see the ski area in the distance.  We stop to provision, then Spouse decides to top off the fuel tanks.  Seems he has been earning points getting gas at this one type of station, and would lose the points once we leave Montana.  But our tank is almost full.  He was able to squeeze 8 gallons in, and you can almost see him writhing in pain over the fact that he was getting fuel at only $3.41 a gallon and could only take 8 gallons!  Oh the pain...

 We head through Whitefish, which is a cute little town, and north we go towards Canada.  A bald eagle flies overhead.  The landscape is the boring mix of meadows, pines, aspens and mountains.  Bambi, don't you dare run in front of us!  Thank you!  When we get to the border, Spouse stops at the duty free shops in the hunt for a good cigar.  Not to be found, but we did refuel my vodka.  At the border, the Canadian official asks all the questions, then asks Spouse, why is his name popping up as a person of interest?  Huh?  The only thing we could think of was when we were in Nova  Scotia almost 30 years ago, they searched our van from end to end.  Could it be that Doug Brown is a common name?  Probably.  When we told them we had firewood, they told us they would not allow us into Canada.  We would have to scuttle Spouse's precious firewood, then re-enter. 

It took a while to get back into the U.S.  And the firewood there left by Canadians would be beautiful with my orchids!  The US is gracious enough to take the wood off the travelers' hands and return it to Canada.  Whereas Canada makes us do it!   We scuttled the firewood... Once again, Spouse is writhing in pain as he dumps his free wood.  Back to the Canadian border, they let us in.  The officer mntions 'We don't see cats here...'  Rudy was proud in his center console perch.  He is now an international kitty.

We continue north on the Canadian 93.  Spouse, the speed limit is kilometers now.  Slow down.  Crew does some metric conversions - SLOW DOWN!   We finally stopped at a tiny RV park at Wasa Lake.  No hookups, but we were done for the day and this was going to work.  The spaces are very ill defined so we park how we want with a picnic and a firepit.  Too bad we don't have any wood...