I'm up at 8:30, ready to run Prince George. Michael is already packed out, and is sitting on the tailgate having a smoke. I guess he's restless today. Earl warns me to stay out of the woods at this hour, as there may be bears. I don't want to deal with bears, so I run the main streets. It's pretty suburban in this part of Prince George. The air is clear and crisp on this day, and I have a good trot over rolling streets of yards and houses. I see a couple of other runners. There's nothing that jumps out to make this a destination run. I'll need to find a guide for next time. There must be some great trails somewhere in this wild country.
After a quick breakfast we're on the road. Southbound. We haven't decided what route we'll take to the coast yet. We may take 99 across to Whistler, and into Vancouver that way. This looks like it would be a wild drive, and we've got the time. Or we'll go back to Cache Creek and catch the old Route 1, TransCanada down towards Hope and Surrey.
By the time we get to 100 Mile House it's snowing and blowing. I'm thinking we should pass on 99 this time around and head for Hope.
It's a rainy drive out of the forest and into the high dessert again.
As it is getting dark we decide to stop at a place called Spence's Bridge to see about a motel. We find a cool little coffeehouse called the Packinghouse Pantry, and the good folk here direct us to some nearby cabins, as well as staying open to cook us dinner!
We notice that our new friend Leslie Alexander will be playing a show here on the 7th of November! Steve, one of the owners, plays us her CD. Hey, good stuff! We went to a Halloween party at Leslie's place in Ashcroft, BC... Go see her and say hello from us!
Sleep finds us early tonight, with trains calling out and grinding their way up both shores of this mighty river. The walls of this cabin actually shake!
It's quite dark, and we stand for a few minutes by the banks of the river, watching the train lights illuminate the opposite shore. I think it's about 7:00, and we are ready for the wrapper. Downtime is hard. We'd rather do shows every night. We have not had many nights off in the past 60 days, but for some reason these seem to tire us more than the shows. There's no internet here, and no phone, and there's a boil water advisory, and the blankets are thin, and my mattress is lumpy, and the room is $85. Oh, well. We're here, and the air smells like river and dessert, and there's the sound of the rain on the roof and the rapids outside. Trucks in the distance crawling up Route 1. There's a little neon out the window. Life is good. On to the coast in the morning.