roadquill1

Roadquill 3: Monday March 5 to Sunday, March 11, 2012 –
On Monday, needing some headache medication which is way more expensive in BC, Sandy and I drove to Los Algodones and walked across the border. (The pills cost about $.65 each here, as compared to about $9 apiece in BC.)

By the time we had walked back to the US, warm weather without wind was setting in, and it was time to head to Squaw Lake. After a couple of stops, we made our way on Hwy. 95 towards the Colorado River.  The camping area (actually a parking lot) looked rather full as we crossed the dam, but we found a nice spot with a space next door for Mike and Marlene, with our door facing north so that the inside of Truck House is always in the shade. Our neighbours, Al (Stevens) and Joan (Kraft), on one side are from Sicamous, BC.  We had a late supper after a paddle on a very warm afternoon. (88C).

We had a chance to paddle and cycle on Tuesday, but fishing was unsuccessful. Friends of Marlene and Mike – Sverre and Jane Jensen – from Powell River – showed up in the early afternoon, and parked on the other side of the Harris’ Adventurer camper.

We looked like an ad from Fraserway with three Adventurer campers in a row. An early happy hour was cut short when the promised high winds showed up. Gale-force winds (40 to 60 mph) howled all night bringing clouds of dust. We lashed everything down, but all vehicles shook mightily during the next 20 hours or so. On Wednesday evening, Sverre and I got our guitars out and shared music for a couple of hours, before very chilly air sent us all packing to bed.

For the next two days, we hiked, biked, and when the wind permitted, kayaked and fished without much success, though Mike did catch a good sized bass which he put back because someone had given us a feed of catfish. As usual, I spend a lot of time waving my fly rod over the water and muttering incantations which I make up as I go. Some of them are probably not meant for fishy ears. Hooks catch in various places in my body, and the kayak spins the wrong way on its anchor, putting my back to the place where the REALLY BIG BASS lurk. Meanwhile, as I untangle my lines, breezes carry me deeply into tall reeds within the range of my anchor line – which has dragged on the mucky bottom. I finally get the lines sorted out and the anchor pulled, and my paddles working again when I discover, as I finish backing out of the forest of reeds, that my deadly “popper” lure is caught on a reed – deep within the patch that I just backed away from. More incantations are required before the situation is once again clear. I look around to make sure that no one was watching my antics or being offended by my magic phrases. Later, the evening ended with an invitation to join our neighbours,  Al and Joan at their campfire. More music!

On Friday, after Sverre and Jane pulled up stakes and headed north, we hiked, read, cycled and then rested before heading off to practice more fishing skills and try to limit the no-no’s. Our short hiking trip led us to a small herd of wild burros. I slowly crept towards them hoping for a good picture before the bolted. Step by step – I inched towards them . Finally, I slowly took out my camera and aimed and snapped a picture. Almost immediately, two of them split off and started hoofing it towards us!!!  Either I was successful in looking like an ass, or we could be in danger from nips or kicks if we didn’t produce treats. Other than Sandy, I had nothing to offer them, so I had to stamp to scare them back. So much for creeping up!

On our cycling trip across the dam, I purchased a day of WiFi time at the desert camp at the top of the hill. Thus, we were able to learn that our niece, Montana’s basketball team had been ranked 6th in the Province, and was off to a good start at the Provincials in Kamloops, that our other niece, Olivia, had scored 22 of 32 points in a final game 33-32 loss to Nanaimo Secondary School, and that the teachers’ strike is on – in miserable weather. We are delighted on the former two accounts, and sad about the latter item. We appreciate all the news from home. And, our Lindsay family will now be enjoying their Spring Break in Hawaii!

Okay – now that I have been schooled by the fish, and by my mentor, Mike, I can report a success! Last evening, (Friday) after the sun had set, I caught a bass on a popper fly. This was only the second bass that I have caught in my life, and it was a moment to celebrate with a fresh new string of incantations, and fist pumping. (The first fish I ever caught was a 5 lb. bass in the Kingston locks in 1951 when I was 5 years old. I still have the newspaper picture and article of that event. The fish in that picture was about 4 times as big as yesterday’s catch.)
       
On Saturday, the place filled up with weekend fishers, while Harris’ headed into Yuma for more provisions. We lazed, and chatted, and read. Fishing at sunset was unsuccessful, but, after a large bass jumped and cleared his hook, I did hear Mike using the chants and incantations that he had taught me. They carried clearly across the still lake waters. another campfire was a good ending to the day.

A “music jam” at the desert RV park nearby convinced me to strap on my guitar and head there to see what it was all about. Sandy and I rode our bikes over in the early afternoon, to find about 2 dozen musicians – guitar players, fiddlers, electric keyboards, banjos and violins all sitting in the shade of a ramada – in an “orchestra” kind of arrangement. I pulled out my guitar at the back of the audience, but a lady named Maria, came over to ask me to join the musicians. For a while, I joined all the others as one by one, each musician played a song of their choice  – accompanied by all the others. Except for one gospel song, all the tunes were country. When it came to my turn, the only song that I could think of that would suit all the others was “City of New Orleans”. It was good fun, and seemed to go over well. Then, when everyone had had a turn, they started again at the beginning.  I had had enough of heat, and my fill of country music so S and I saddled up and rode our mountain broncs home.

Our showers have an interesting warning on the door…

My 92 year old mother will be enjoying her latest visitation to Israel. I just hope that cooler heads will continue to keep the peace while she is there.

Our love and best wishes to our family and friends at home, – in BC, or in Hawaii (or heading there), or on the road, or in other Provinces, or those of you who aren’t too far from us here in the southwest.

The Quill (Tony) and the Quilter (Sandy)