Day 11: Second day on the Beach was the first day of rain on the trip. I had stashed some driftwood in the campsite shelter on seeing the forecast and saw out the rain in the warm and dry. Getting into Masset for supplies and a visit to a food truck. Two Co-op supermarkets on the islands have all you need and prices seem fair for such a far flung location. Fuel for vehicles was also reasonably priced although I didn’t see any premium available. But the place is so small that I didn’t need to fill. 

 

Day 12: Back South, a slow trip calling in at everywhere. I can’t foresee another visit to Haida Gwaii, so this is my only chance.
Rest areas, beaches, cafes and a tour of the island’s Rec Sites. Watching the fishing boats come and go; commercial and charter, salmon, halibut and crab. Kagan Rec Site is home for the night, waterside and close to Queen Charlotte Village; just a bit disconcerting to see a black bear bound across the road as I pull in. But at least there are no grizzlies on Haida Gwaii.

 Day 13 and 14: It is another day waiting for the ferry. Somehow the return trip is another night boat. One boat does a round trip every day but skips a crossing. Rain sets in during the journey. Prince Rupert’s Tim Hortons have most of the passengers lining-up and getting wet at 6 in the morning. A drenching day; soaked through by Terrace; cold, wet, tired and hungry by Stewart. I bite the bullet and book into the Ripley Creek Hotel. Expensive but when I see the depth of the bathtub; worth every penny. I may have soaked in deeper baths for longer, but I can’t remember when. 

 Day 15: A former workmate came to Stewart to work at the Brucejack goldmine several years ago. We meet up and gossip for a morning. The afternoon is spent looking for a property; land left to my girlfriend by her father. Land he took as payment for a debt and not somewhere he saw before he died. It looked like marshland at the edge of town but that might just have been because of 24 hours of nonstop rain. There was a Mack Superliner on the neighbouring property; now that did get me interested. A cross border trip into Alaska at the town of Hyder is curtailed by a “Locals Only” sign in the middle of the road. COVID strikes again. 

  Day 16: Dry roads and a chance to appreciate the splendour of Highway 37A as it climbs away from Stewart and up to the Bear Glacier. Scenery on a par with the Icefield Parkway. Decision time at Meziadin Junction; do I take the Cassiar north and loop round through Watson Lake or retrace tracks to Kitwanga and Prince George. The fast disappearing tread on the back tire dictates the shortest way home.

Just south of the junction; halfway round a left hand bend: a grizzly bear. Walking along the roadside concrete barrier. With no time to stop or turnaround before reaching the animal; I flick on high-beam, blare the horn and aim straight at it. Finally getting the grizzly’s attention, it hops off the barrier and down the bank. In all probability muttering,
“Damn, those KTM horns are pathetic.”

 Day 17 to 19: Always a sense of sadness; heading home. Just mileage to grind out. Rec Site camping, cheap small prairie town campgrounds. Coop Lake, Fabyan and Yorkton. A tailwind helps the trip economy.

The tire is a worry; U-Haul one way van hire is the contingency plan. But as the tire wears, more rubber is in contact with the road and wear seems slower. Then a puncture at the back; my first time using a repair cord in a motorcycle tubeless tire. The little baby inflater does a good job too. No noticeable oil consumption on the 7420 kilometre trip and the KTM never missed a beat. My body on theother hand probably wondered what the brain was doing. Sleeping in a tent, hours of motorcycle riding that had never been done before and all when an old man should be sitting at home with his feet-up. COVID has a lot to answer for. 

Mack R688 Overland Expedition Truck.

Pandemic Drive Home.

Depart Yuma Wednesday Midday-Arrive Winnipeg Sunday Midday.

____ Sitting in the desert as the World reeled from the relentless spread of Covid 19; we felt we were in a good place. The snowbirds had thinned; neighbours had left throughout the previous two weeks and we were surrounded by wide open wilderness. Our only close interaction with crowded areas was at the launderette and Fry's supermarket in the Foothills, near Yuma. A once a week, fifty mile round trip.

____ The original plan was to be back on Canadian soil by April 14; the determining factor being our health insurance. After last years tragedy; when Gilles from Montreal collapsed against the side of the truck with a stroke, health and fitness has been of elevated importance. Good coverage for over 65s is expensive for long-term visits to the US but totally essential. However, once the coronavirus situation had been designated as a "Pandemic"; all health insurance policies refused to pay for treatment. Then the Canadian government issued a "No Travel" advisory for the USA which gave the insurance companies the excuse to cancel all travel and health cover to people in the States. We were given ten days to get back to Canada.

___ The Mack had developed a few problems since the start of the trip, nothing too serious and stuff that could wait until the return to Manitoba. But coming North in the tension of a country on the verge of shut-down was stressful. The fuel pump was leaking, a drip, drip, drip at idle; the 11 litre motor marking its territory at every truckstop, rest area and car park. The diesel fuel at the front was now being complimented by a oil seal leak at the differential. The fuel level gauge in the diesel tank abruptly stopped working. One of the battery isolating solenoids gave up the ghost; so the truck now just had the one operable 12 volt battery in the front bumper. Somewhere, unknown, a parasitic draw resulted in a flat battery every morning; luckily a 3500 watt generator easily over came that problem.

___ But Macks are built tough, they get the job done. A bottle of gear oil in the rear axle every morning and a lot of concentration; we brought it home. Many Canadian snowbirds on the same roads; playing leap-frog with Manitoba plated travel trailers, 5th wheel and motorhomes all the way from Tucumcari. The final two nights were cold, drumming in the fact we had returned too early, but a strong tail-wind gave us good fuel mileage and the price of a gallon was way less than the outbound journey.

____ The border at Pembina/Emerson was the last stressful obstacle. There were plenty of warnings on the Internet that the border was closed with chaotic advice about who would be let into Canada. At the end of Interstate 29, the line-up was short and we were across with just a few questions answered. However we  did have agree to a 14 day period of isolation at home. Go home, straight home and don't stop a Tim Hortons for coffee at Morris. So, the Mack is back in same spot where it was re-purposed; the snow is still two feet  deep on the deck. The groceries are delivered and I have conditioned myself to sit and watch TV for 16 hours a day. The Mack needs a lot of TLC but with such an uncertain future, there is no time-line; just a quiet determination to get through the unforeseen darkness that has enveloped everyone's lives.

Whale Watching At Guerroro Negro, Baja California.

____ Some more of Cheryl's wonderful photographs from her Mario's Whale Watching Tour.

Mexico 2020

____ The days before Mexico were spent at Mittry Lake and at Quartzsite. Mittry Lake for the access to good easy kayaking. We parked by the boat ramp and paddled every day on the mirror smooth waters. Seeking out the hidden places as we pushed through the reed beds and corralled the cootes. A fully stocked larder lasted a week and as we passed the New Year at our lakeside campsite, We replenished the food  with a trip into Yuma and stayed another seven days; hiking in the hills that formed the edge of the desert as it came down to the fertile valley of the Colorado River.

____ The departure to Quartzsite corresponded with the need for more supplies and the need to empty the waste tanks. Seventy miles north on Highway 95 where RVs out-number cars and trucks through the Sonoran Desert. A few days before the big RV show with enough time to do laundry, buy food and settle in before the massive influx of every imaginable recreational vehicle to a small town on Interstate 10. We cycled into town everyday; taking the dirt tracks through the vast camping area on the southern edge of town known as South Posa. Busy, busy, busy with sold out food shops and gridlocked traffic in and around the Big Tent showground.

____ Two days of looking around everthing RV and a whole lot more; electric bikes seemed to be the new “must-have” for motorhomes with multiple vendors on site. I came away with a couple of roof-light covers and a couple of sore feet from all the walking. We signed up for membership of the Quartzsite library; a busy place with its free Wi-Fi and vast free-to-borrow DVD collection. It was handy to have a place to print copies of stuff from the Internet; we bought our Mexican vehicle insurance on-line and registered for our FMM, Mexican tourist visas.

____ The show lasted for a week but we shipped out after three days and headed back down Highway 95, straight through Yuma and onto St.Luis de Colorado; stopping overnight just north of the border. Not much RV traffic but plenty of locals crossing both ways as we lined-up and got through in about an hour. That left plenty of time to get down to San Felipe, restock the fridge and fruit bowl and set up  for the night at Pete’s Camp. Just the one night before five nights at Gonzaga Bay and a chance to kayak on the Sea of Cortez where early starts were a must as the wind chopped up the water later in the day.

____ High-light of the kayaking was a long paddle to Punta Final when we came across a group of grey whales. Laying on their sides with one fin waving in the air; about six whales were so close we could hear them breathing. Close enough to feel vulnerable, sitting on top of a plastic kayak. We quietly drifted away as the wind started; taking photographs that somehow turned out crap.

____ Mulege, pronounced “Mule-ah-hay,” had been the long held destination of this Winter’s roadtrip. Gaining a mystical-like presence to me as people had been asking about our plans. Some knew of it and recommended it; others had never heard of it and expressed surprise that we should go into Mexico with a thirty year-old vehicle at all. But finally we were less than one day away and on our way to Mulege. Highway 5 had just been finished being paved all the way through to Highway1, south of Gonzaga Bay. So new that the asphalt laying machine was still parked at the roadside and they hadn’t finished the white lines. A great piece of road that put to shame Highway 1, a narrow, shoulder-less black ribbon that ran through the undulating Baja Californian desert from Tijuana to Cabo San Luca.

____ After all the talk of Mulege, the town was a disappointment, nothing outstanding, nowhere to park the rig and before we knew it, we were out the other side of town. Now heading for one of the beaches on the Bahia Concepcion; we pulled up at Playa Santispac, blasted the air-horns at the gawking customers at Armando’s bar and grabbed a palapa at the water’s edge. The start of two weeks in paradise; sunshine and sheltered calm seas with a dozen yachts moored offshore among islands. Two restaurant/bars, Armando’s and Ana’s, a regular supply of fresh fruit and veg, fish and shrimp, pastries and cakes, even drinking water and propane, all brought to your vehicle by local vendors. The usual tourist tat of blankets and jewellery as well; but nobody was pushy and all very friendly. A great place, except for a couple of things; the toilets were disgusting and the beach lay at the bottom of a steep hill which was Jake-Brake alley for every Ken-Mex Dubya 9 with straight-through pipes as Mexican truck drivers played “Wake-up-a-camper” with their engine brakes.

____ Kayaking around the islands on clear, calm water as pelicans dived for fish, hiking the shore line trails or dipping into the natural hot-springs filled our days. It was a popular spot, being the easiest of the beaches to access. For some it was a long-term stay, for some just an overnight halt on the road to La Paz and the southern tip of Baja California. We contemplated moving on but couldn’t envision anything better; so we stayed until the peso count got low. It was 200 pesos a night, not exceptionally good value but that was a typical price for all the places we stayed. Mexico is not as cheap as it is made out to be. Sure, beer and groceries are cheap but expensive diesel and paying for campsites eats into your funds. Boon-docking is possible but didn’t seem practical to us in the Mack, maybe in a Jeep with a tent you could hide away every night but we went for the easy option.

____ Coming back North, we overnighted at Guerrero Negro on the Pacific coast. Number one spot in the World to watch whales. Cheryl went with Mario’s Tours and was not disappointed. At Gonzaga Bay, we came across a P-reg VW camper. Lee and Willow touring North America with Subaru power and a cat called Aimee. Great couple on a great roadtrip; check them out onhttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UC19-hATcDPEGCYj92PccfgA/featured?disable_polymer=1…. Finally we rolled back into the US and set up camp, back at Imperial Dam.

680 miles, North to South and hardly touched on what is possible in Mexico.

Cow Patty. Lunch stop between San Felipe and Gonzaga Bay.

The smooth waters of Gonzaga Bay

Dawn at Gonzaga Bay.

Kayaking around the islands of Bahia de Concepcion.

On the Playa de Santispac, South of Mulege.

The yachts offshore were mostly from Canada

Lee and Willow with their VW Camper at Gonzaga Bay.

One of Cheryl's photos from Guerrero Negro.