Harbor at Prince Rupert

After our all day most of the night ferry ride from Port Hardy to Prince Rupert we woke to an overcast sky. A trip to the car found a conversation with a middle aged man. He told me that if we went to Dawson City to look up his friend Mitch to tell him that Stan says hi. Told him I would do just that.

We shopped at Safeway. Old men pushed carts and loaded up volumes and volumes of food. One pair got mad at the checkout when their form of payment was rejected. A manager cooled them down. Did laundry and finished my article about ferry ride. Will post when it publishes. Also met a couple from Yellow Knife who spent almost 6 years in Rogers Park. They might still be living in Chicago but she could not get a job due to her immigration status and could not right her immigration status due to not having a job. Similar story for the man working the laundromat who once lived in San Diego. Born in Tehran he has also lived in Tokyo and Vancouver. He greatly misses living in a city.

At the Cowpucino in Prince Rupert. Waterfront is called Cow Bay due to someone once transporting cows here.

Am now drinking good dark coffee at Cowpucino. Great place with lousy 80s music. Owner told me his way of scrambling eggs via an espresso wand. Cannot wait to try it at home. 

I like Prince Rupert. So does Henna. Corey is maybe less of a fan and thinks the place is mighty scrappy. If Monterey, California kept a few canning factories open and the housing prices (and visitors) low, it might look like here. Or if Prince Rupert relocated an hour south of San Francisco it would look a whole lot less worn. But you can’t just go around moving cities as easily as you can people.

Taken from the ferry

Right now we are happy to be exactly where we are. Even the music is growing on me. Later tonight (really early tomorrow morning) we take another ferry. And then we are in Alaska, a step closer and also further from home.

The “before” picture

Just like last year, we visited family and are treated to a royal feast. This time it was salmon caught by Corey’s second cousin Phillip (who we’ve never met) and grilled up by his brother David who, along with his daughter Mariah, we are lucky to know quite well. As amazing as the seafood was, so were the potato and kale salads brought by Pam, Dan, Susan, and Mike. Our Ladysmith cousins sure do know how to make us feel at home.

The next day we wolfed down the leftovers right before exploring Strathcona Provincial Park with David and Mariah. Located a few hours north of Victoria, Strathcona offers up some of the most rugged landscape on Vancouver Island. After four and a half hours of hiking through a fern draped wonderland that included an impressive beaver dam and a whole lot of hanging moss, we set up camp a few kilometers shy of Landslide Lake. We then spent the next day contemplating the lake while Mariah caught two good sized trout with cheddar flavored meal worms (a souvenir from Victoria’s Bug Zoo and they actually do not taste half bad). The first we fried up on a small skillet with Mariah letting the second one go. Day three was a long hike back to the car and then a hauntingly desolate ride up to Port Hardy. Three showers later we are toasty and maybe a bit nervous about the road ahead. A lot of people asked us before we left how long it would take to get to Alaska. Well, we almost have an answer. Tomorrow we land in Prince Rupert, B.C. and then the next day we cross into Alaska. So far it has been one heck of a trip.

Noel and Henna struggle to land a fish.

Mariah shows us how it’s done.

At Landslide Lake. 10 KM hike; 600 meter elevation gain but only a few switch backs. Trail a little difficult to follow the final kilometer. 2 campsite, one at 6 KM and the other at 9 KM. The second one is worth the longer hike.

The Badlands Motel. I really wish we were staying there. Or at least that was what I was thinking as we fled the outdoor Medora Musical (a show cut short due to the swirling lightning and dark, dark overhead skies). The road back to the campground was a winding five miles in the dark with massive elk (their shape illuminated by lightning) grazing in a meadow. At the campground entrance a bison stood by the side of the road as if to greet us.

Once at our site we waited out the coming storm. Henna read in the front seat and I fiddled with the stove to boil up some hotdogs. Corey and I moved the camp chairs next to the car and watched the northern sky explode, a constant flicker whose flame was only intermittently heard. The southern sky was not much better and also maybe closer as the thunder was much louder. A few drops, a lot of wind, but the storm never quite reached us. Neither did the bison. As we set up camp the host told us that they often wander through the campground, especially at night. He said just don’t bother them and they won’t bother you. I heard, a bison will stomp on your tent while you lay sleeping. On an earlier hike to the Little Missouri River we were surprised by a dozen or so of those big suckers grazing a few feet from our car. Corey and Henna took pictures from the car while I frantically begged Corey to drive away. Looking back, I think that may have been the first time that I longed for the motel.

It was hot too. Like mid 90s unrelenting hot with nowhere near enough cotton woods to offer shade. We found ourselves post-ice cream with two hours to kill before the musical. So we made dinner in a picnic area, strolled a western-themed book store, and played in the park which was almost as nice as taking a late afternoon nap in AC cooled motel room while Henna surfed the channel for cooking shows.

When I took my nightly stroll to the bathroom the half-moon shone as bright as the sun.  The world was silent and the cold wind was constant. But yet the ground still felt warm on my bare feet. As I crawled back into my sleeping bag I was startled by the riotous call of a thousand birds. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

It might seem odd to include a book about prison in my Great Travel Book Round Up, but when you come right down to it, Orange Is The New Black is actually quite similar to Cheryl Stray’s Wild. Both memoirs involve bad choices,  drugs, self-growth in response to adversity, and care packages that help our hero cope with the elements (books and boots respectively). Yes, Piper did not have much choice in her spiritual journey, but I think it is clear that Cheryl also felt that she had little choice in leaving her routine for the unfamiliar. And in the end both women appear better for their ordeal.

Special note: One way that the books differ is in their treatment by the big/little screen. The movie Wild keeps true to the text and is as inspirational as the book. Not so true for the television version of Orange which trades Piper’s uplifting vision of women banding together against the dehumanizing forces of incarceration for an entirely fictional and over hyped world of sex, violence, and more sex. Not going to judge you if your into that kind of thing (I, um, had to watch several episodes before I decided it was not for me and then watched a few more just to make sure). But you really need to check out the book.

Know it has been a while since we shared a date night pick, but this one is worth the wait. Staged in a Rogers Park dive bar (where the actors serve food and drinks at intermission), this production likely resembles Rent when it was first performed Off Broadway. The talent level is high, the prices are relatively low, and the songs are sung exceedingly well. All this makes for a Hennacornoelidays Recommendation.

Savannah Quinn Hoover/Photo: Adam Veness

Theo Ubique Cabaret Theater, 6970 North Glenwood, (800) 595-4849, theo-u.com, $39-$44. Through May 1. Dinner requires pre-ordering. My full review for Newcity.