Today began with an oil change. I naively inquired whether there was a Jiffy-Lube or something like it in town, and that brought a laugh from the RV park manager. But she did know a mechanic who could get me in first thing in the morning to change the oil. I needed to get the oil changed, because we were facing a 350+ mile trip to Watson Lake. And it was time to do so.
So I got the oil changed--and my wallet emptied--and we headed for Watson Lake. We're going to the Yukon, for crying out loud. Surely, that's beyond the bounds of civilization. All I could think of was Robert Service's The Cremation of Sam McGee. (Who was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but this land of gold seemed to hold him in a spell. Though he'd often say in his homely way, that he'd sooner live in Hell.)
We finally saw a moose wandering alongside the highway, and approached the Liard River area, which includes the hot springs (famous! if you live in northern British Columbia), where swimming is supposed to be something you do. It's one of the few places where you can swim outdoors in this region, if you're of such a mind. But the area is full of parks, camping, and outdoor activities. We decided to stop to refuel at one of the remote gas stations, and as we were about to get back in the pickup, a couple of guys said, "Wow. Your tire is really messed up." What? I went around the trailer to look at the right side, and could not believe that I had not even seen that my right rear tire was shredded. And I hadn't felt a thing when it blew. So now what to do? I had a good spare tire, and a jack, but I couldn't find a lug wrench in the pickup where it was supposed to be. Later, we were to find out that the pickup didn't have a jack or a lug wrench. But I had purchased a bottle jack for the trailer in order to grease the axles, and that really came in handy now.
Fortunately, or providentially, the young man working the gas pumps had a lug wrench and helped me changed the tire, but no one at the small settlement had a tire or wheel. Oh, yes, the wheel was beat up so badly, it was beyond use. So we had to drive on to Watson Lake without a spare. I don't think we put our full weight down on the rest of the trip.
When we got to Watson Lake, it was too late to inquire about a tire, but the RV park manager gave me the name of a repair shop there that might have a tire and wheel to purchase. We went to the main tourist attraction in Watson Lake, the sign forest with over 70,000 signs left by passers-through. I found many signs from various towns in Texas, and a few from Oklahoma, but it's an incredible sight, taking into consideration that some of them must have been brought there very deliberately from other countries, because there were many from Germany and Scandinavia. There are some old pieces of construction equipment, left over from the construction of the Alaska highway back in 1942. But you have to wade through hundreds of poles to find the equipment. Oh, and there was this one other notable sign which is evidently from Olney, TX.
So now we can end the day wondering whether BeeJay will have the tire and wheel that I need for a spare, so we can drive on to Whitehorse, Yukon's capital, and stay on schedule.
So I got the oil changed--and my wallet emptied--and we headed for Watson Lake. We're going to the Yukon, for crying out loud. Surely, that's beyond the bounds of civilization. All I could think of was Robert Service's The Cremation of Sam McGee. (Who was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but this land of gold seemed to hold him in a spell. Though he'd often say in his homely way, that he'd sooner live in Hell.)
We finally saw a moose wandering alongside the highway, and approached the Liard River area, which includes the hot springs (famous! if you live in northern British Columbia), where swimming is supposed to be something you do. It's one of the few places where you can swim outdoors in this region, if you're of such a mind. But the area is full of parks, camping, and outdoor activities. We decided to stop to refuel at one of the remote gas stations, and as we were about to get back in the pickup, a couple of guys said, "Wow. Your tire is really messed up." What? I went around the trailer to look at the right side, and could not believe that I had not even seen that my right rear tire was shredded. And I hadn't felt a thing when it blew. So now what to do? I had a good spare tire, and a jack, but I couldn't find a lug wrench in the pickup where it was supposed to be. Later, we were to find out that the pickup didn't have a jack or a lug wrench. But I had purchased a bottle jack for the trailer in order to grease the axles, and that really came in handy now.
Fortunately, or providentially, the young man working the gas pumps had a lug wrench and helped me changed the tire, but no one at the small settlement had a tire or wheel. Oh, yes, the wheel was beat up so badly, it was beyond use. So we had to drive on to Watson Lake without a spare. I don't think we put our full weight down on the rest of the trip.
When we got to Watson Lake, it was too late to inquire about a tire, but the RV park manager gave me the name of a repair shop there that might have a tire and wheel to purchase. We went to the main tourist attraction in Watson Lake, the sign forest with over 70,000 signs left by passers-through. I found many signs from various towns in Texas, and a few from Oklahoma, but it's an incredible sight, taking into consideration that some of them must have been brought there very deliberately from other countries, because there were many from Germany and Scandinavia. There are some old pieces of construction equipment, left over from the construction of the Alaska highway back in 1942. But you have to wade through hundreds of poles to find the equipment. Oh, and there was this one other notable sign which is evidently from Olney, TX. So now we can end the day wondering whether BeeJay will have the tire and wheel that I need for a spare, so we can drive on to Whitehorse, Yukon's capital, and stay on schedule.
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