Oh Where, Oh Where Can I Be?

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas Anymore.

Three guesses as to where we are tonight. Anyone? Go ahead and guess because I haven't the slightest idea. I can tell you we are somewhere in southeastern British Columbia. From there the directions get a bit vague. If I can remember correctly, from Kelowna you take highway 97 to Oliver. Turn right in the center onto an unmarked road and head uphill. We did pass a sign erected in 1967, declaring this to be gold rush country, so that can serve as landmark number one. The second might be the cattle crossing grate which marked the end of paved road. Numbers three and four might be the two cattle we shared the road with a few kilometers up, but like Hansel's breadcrums, I doubt they will still be around on a second visit.

After winding through dry brush and crumbling hills for about 15 kilometers you should keep a sharp eye out for a brown post in the ground with painted lettering indicating Ripley Madden Lake. Turn right and from this point I recommend first gear and sharp navigation techniques as you rumble around loose rocks, tree roots, and boulders.

At the next fork go left. No, that's where we encountered an impossible rut. Make that a right. Continue under high tension lines and around several bends in the road and finally you will arrive there. Somewhere.

Somewhere beautiful actually. A small lake resting between hills that are decorated with sagebrush, cactus-like plants and the tangled bare limbs of burned trees. The trees silhouetted against the pink of the sunset like a scene from a postcard. The two doe grazing on the road ahead, completed the picture for us.

So this place, somewhere between Oliver and Carston B.C., where only locals with four wheel drive may have tread before us, is home for tonight. John wanted adventure; I'd say we found it.

The Blue Bird Trail

The drive down from the lake and into Carston was equally as exciting. Cactus and sagebrush followed us down the arid hills. Cattle occasionally grazed by the barbed wire and yellow cactus flowers clung to the posts. We shot a few pictures along the way and were captivated by the total silence this mountainous desert offered.

We're back on Highway 3 now, moving toward Vancouver. The clouds look like they just might peel away today and give us some blue sky. We're traveling through some diverse landscape here in British Columbia. Arid mountains pull up to lush apple and pear orchards. Every other kilometer displays signs for fresh fuit and vegetable stands. Cactus patches share land with flowing rivers and big horn mountain sheep and cattle graze by the highway. B.C. offers everthing from the "Old McDonald's Farm" tourist attraction, fruit groves, cactus parks, taxadermists, road-side wineries, the gold rush trail and a rehab center for owls.

Gold

We've struck gold. Hedley B.C. and Nickle Plate Mountain were on our route. (Hedley was once a booming gold rush town). And as they say, "When in Rome...". So we panned. We'd packed our official Vermont gold pans and we finally put them to use. Now I am faced with the dilemma of whether to have earrings or a pendent made from my vial of flakes.

Massachusetts By Any Other Name

Seems that Massachusetts could be on the moon. So far we've run into two people who have never heard of it. A gas station attendant in Yoho National Park looked at our plate and scratched his head.

"Never heard of Massachusetts," he said. "Where's that?"

When John said we were from outside of Boston, the attendant smiled and nodded. "Oh, Massachusetts is in Boston - they're getting a new Garden Stadium right?"

Another night, the park ranger who came by to collect our camping fee registered us as plate number 385-YOP, State: Boston.

So while Boston may be known around the continent, Massachusetts just fades to the background.