Chuck's Cabin

 

August 4th

After two days of driving at least 8-9 hours on the Cassiar Highway, we camped in Smithers,
BC, last night, in our first RV park. Dinner was at a Boston Pizza there, and when I took over
the wheel, Mark heard a loose clanging. We stopped at an empty Canadian Tire shop, he went
down on his back on his length of cardboard, in the rain, and discovered missing and loose
bolts, which hold up the grey tank. Poor guy. To get out of the downpour, we wandered
Smithers and spotted a tire shop, closed for the night, with a perfect canopy. With his bum left shouldered arm, he tightened one bolt and rigged-up a sling out of a nylon ratcheting tie-down,
to sub for the missing one, which I thought was clever and laborious. We would find a shop this
morning to replace the latter.

We had planned to drive a couple more hours to Fort Fraser, but decided to bag it, and stopped
at the city campground. Sleep came fast to Mark, and I read Hillary Clinton's Hard Choices, for 30
minutes, then turned out the light.

For us, leaving camp at 8 a.m., is early, but we needed to find a truck shop to fix the bolt. The
first one on the highway was behind schedule, with the Civic BC Holiday, and the mechanic
really wasn't interested in looking thoroughly. Luckily, though, he referred us to another shop
down the road, which did take us on, and the young man was so pleasant and accommodating,
in comparison. The problem was fixed, and after getting breakfast at one of the Tim Horton's
(with unsuccessful wifi connection for me, but good for Mark), we left Smithers at 10:30. We
were grateful for the resolved dysfunction, and needed to reward our delay and stress with
finding our friend Chuck's family cabin on Francoise Lake, after Burns Lake.

 

Terrain changes have been so fascinating on this highway, from wilderness, boreal forests to
dense forests, mountains, to ranch lands today, with rolling green hills and flats of pastures and
fields, with intermittent farmlands. Francoise Lake was 7 miles off the highway, with some nice looking resorts, homes and RV park. Chuck had given Mark the coordinates, and we got so
excited when we could make out an old cabin in the woods, at the exact location! There was no
driveway to the old homestead, so we had to park on the road next to the neighbors' home.
Before taking the faded narrow trail on their property we spotted, I went to their door to explain,
but no one answered.

 

 

 

Walking about 50 feet, the cabin was still standing; although the door had been broken into, and
the tar paper on the outside visible and torn. Entering cautiously, we saw an array of furniture:
two formica tables with fifties style chairs, no plumbing (an outhouse up the hill), bed, dresser,
and a terrific wood cook stove, that I think would be the thing to save. Mouse and/or pack rat
turds were everywhere, and the back door was also wide open. Getting to a storage cabin
down by the lake, was more difficult to access, having to bush-whack through overgrown shrubs
and downed tree limbs. Someone had jammed in the lower part of the wooden locked door, and
we could see stored beds, tables, other furniture in the darkness. A wood shed was further up
the hill by the outhouse, and almost a full load was still present.

We spoke with Chuck later that night. This was his parents' cabin, and the one he built when he
was 20, was across the lake, with no road access. He was tickled that we actually found his
folks' place still standing. It had been built in the early 70s. Chuck hadn't been back to his
cabin in forty years, with university, career, bigger places to go that beckoned him away.

 

The weather heated up on Francoise, and warmth and sun was wonderful. Lunch was by the
lake, before we headed onward. Finding Chuck's place was a treat, a major geocache find, a
spell in our truckin' it home for family support. Rain seems to follow us late afternoons lately,
and getting late, we found another of Mark's spots; this one on Little LaSalle Lake in a provincial
recreation campground, free and beautiful. We visited with a couple from outside Vancouver, on
the unstable dock, while the sun was setting. There were about six sites, and it was rainy, with a
couple hours of being able to walk the stoney beach, skip stones, and then return for needed
rest.