'Way down in Missouri where I heard this melody........

When I was but a little child on my mommy's knee;
The old folks were hummin'
Their banjos were strummin'
Way down in ol' Missouri'


From the wide open range of Oklahoma up through the northeast 'green country; with its gentle hills and foliage, we entered Missouri's pastoral lands; cows gently grazing in the front pastures, trees just in the early stages of blossoming, bales of hay piled carefully.

'Welcome to Missourah' (that's how folks from Missouri say it) chirped the wide-grinning sparrow-like woman at the welcome center who proceeded to gather up all sorts of data for us to enjoy our visit in the state of 'Missourah'. Our destination was Branson, deep in the Ozarks in the south west corner of the state. What a strange place for a strip of music venues! It all started way back in 1894when a guy by the name of Bill Lynch started charging for the square dances he organized inside the naturally formed Marvel Cave. It wasn't until the 1960's though that musical groups started building theaters along the current day 'strip' and in the 1980's it was transformed into a major tourist destination.

See! I knew it....Elvis is alive and well and appearing in Branson.

Driving down from Springfield on the road taken by those who fly in, the route is lined with billboards: Mickey Gilley, Legends of Country, Country Comedy (laugh 'til your sides hurt), the Baldknobbers, The Duttons, The Osmonds (not including Donny and Marie – they're making big bucks in Las Vegas).

I remember when Tony Orlando and Roy Clark opened their theaters there. Today there's no sign of Tony Orlando's and Roy Clark I believe is long dead. We figured we'd have to do one of those hokey shows so we checked them all out – they're mostly country which is just not our taste. So we settled on either Shoji Tabuchi who'd been recommended to us or The Righteous Brothers with Bill Medley appearing with Paul Revere and the Raiders – none of them country. But we found out that they didn't open until spring break which was the following week. 'Oh good! We can save the $40+ each' was my first thought. Shows how much I really wanted to go. Branson is no Las Vegas. Even though not a country fan, if Roy Clark were performing, I'd have gone to see him just to hear him sing that haunting and more meaningful-than-ever song, Yesterday. It almost makes me cry.

Yesterday when I was young
so many songs were waiting to be sung,
so many pleasures lay in store for me
and so much pain my eyes refused to see.
I ran so fast that time at last ran out,
I never stopped to think what life was all about
and every conversation I can now recall
concerned itself with me and nothing else at all.


There's no boondocking around Branson. The low-slung Ozark Mountains, more like pimply hills to us northerners were heavily developed for a wide area around town. The roads twist and turn, up and over the rocky, undulating hills and finding level ground could be a real challenge. So we settled into the Pea Patch RV Park in the midst of the midway that is Branson's theater strip. Roller Coasters, bungie jump rides, Ripley's Believe it or Not, a huge representation of the Titanic complete with iceberg and so on, and so forth. Lynn and Lorraine, life partners run the Pea Patch and they welcomed us along with a torrent of three adorable little dogs, a shaved shitzu, a dacshund and a bichon Frise. They tumbled out of the door and attacked us with licks and wiggles. Oh how Caesar would have loved them ...... but I suppose they were far too rambunctious really for the old geezer. We gathered up all Caesar's dog food and snacks for the delightful little trio who kept us entertained for the next few days.


We geocached out in the woods and along the lakes while the weather was glorious not really enjoying Branson for what Branson really was. Alongside the historic old town there's a lovely river walk and an entertainment / shopping complex with some great restaurants. We were starving after traipsing through the forest and we shared a humungous seafood platter at Joe's Crab Shack. We also found two wineries with generous tasting rooms. The vineyards are further north along the Mississippi, but they have a captive audience in Branson. One of them gave us 14 different samples – good thing we could walk home after.


Two weeks after falling flat on my face, I'm all back to normal. I've horrified some of you by having the audacity to post such unattractive photos and even caused one sensitive fellow to have nightmares about my nose. It just goes to prove that I'm very self-assured but when you get to my age, you've learned to live with the battlescars that just come along with aging. So rest easy, sensitive friends, the nose is looking pretty good again and the black eyes have faded. Now hopefully my friend's nightmares will turn to sweet dreams of me.


Our daughter's partner is an Arkansan who recently relocated to British Columbia. As we were headed for Little Rock, Arkansas we emailed his parents (J&MK) and put forward an invitation to take them out for lunch – what a perfect opportunity for us all to meet. After a dozen emails back and forth, they with typical southern hospitality invited us to park Maggie in their massive paved driveway. We at first felt that it would be presumptuous to take them up on it but we were convinced that it was a heartfelt offer. We felt a bit like 'the Fockers' though (you'll know what I mean if you've seen the movie 'Meet the Fockers') when we drew up into their driveway. I wondered if they'd seen the film and what preconceived ideas they had about us – they were very brave to have invited us sight unseen. Obviously our daughter had made a good impression!


It took absolutely no time at all for the four of us to become firm fast friends and instead of just having a couple of hours over lunch together, we were there for three fabulous days. We asked them to choose the restaurant and went for dinner instead of lunch, out through the woods to the little town of Prattsville, population 340, where we had a feast of southern fried catfish, hush puppies, slaw, baked beans, cornbread and the best of all 'pickled green tomaters'. It was a little bit like eating in a church hall with the long tables, chrome chairs and down home cooking. For $8 per person at the Whippet, you had all the fix'ns you could eat. Yummo! as Rachael Ray says.

As is usual, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and my fingers noticed what felt like a little skin tag at my waist. I took a look in the mirror and it was dark coloured, sort of like a little blood blister. I tugged at it and scraped at it and pulled and it came off. I got out the magnifying glass to take a look at it. Eeeeeeekkkk! It was a tick, fully engorged on my blood and almost ready to drop off or was it dead? - it sure wasn't moving.


I immediately thought of all the dire warnings of lyme disease we get in BC so I put it into a little plastic lidded container. You have to give me credit; I didn't scream out loud; I didn't wake up Fernie; I just quietly dealt with the matter. But I felt awfully queasy about it. I told Fernie the next morning and he said he'd have to check and see if I had any more on me and he found one tucked in the crease behind my knee. This one was not hanging off and it took some work to remove it and I plopped it into the plastic container with his friend. If I came down with some fatal disease, at least they'd have the culprits. I checked Fernie over and he was clear. The last time we were in the bush was in Branson, three days prior so those little suckers had been with me a while. I didn't even feel them when I showered. There was absolutely no sensation and no pain after. I found out later that ticks are commonplace in Arkansas, rarely causing problems and they drop out of the trees onto you. I think I'll stick to urban geocaching in the south. One week later, one of the ticks is still alive in the container....he's my new pet, I guess.

J&MK took us out touring for a day. Hot Springs is about 35 miles southwest of Benton, the Little Rock suburb where J&MK live. The city takes its name from the natural thermal water that flows from 47 springs in the historic downtown district. It has been determined that the water that reaches the surface in Hot Springs fell as rainfall 4,000 years earlier.

J&MK in front of the hotel where they had their honeymoon.

Hot Springs has quite a colourful past. It was taken from the Quapaw Indians in a treaty in 1818 and spas developed over the next hundred years. Illegal gambling became entrenched in the community in the late 1800's and in the 1920's Al Capone and some of his gang took residence. Bill Clinton was raised in Hot Springs as were Alan Ladd and Billy Bob Thornton. There are no pools as is usual in north American hot springs but just big individual tubs and steam cabinets. Fernie would just love to spend a day there. At least you get privacy there, unlike Tecopa.


Arkadelphia, the town where J&MK resided for 32 years and brought up their family is about 40 miles south east of Hot Springs. It was our next stop. It's a small college town where J was the dean of chemistry at Henderson State. Another college, Ouachita sits right across the road. Obviously these seats of higher learning are the only reason that Arkadelphia exists.

The Clinton Library is the jewel of Little Rock, situated within walking distance of the downtown business district overlooking the Arkansas River.


It's staffed by elderly volunteers, many of them veterans and well to do dowagers. 'How're y'all – come right on in' from one of the grey-haired old guys 'where y'all from?' and when we said Canada he retorted 'I saw your car in the parking lot'. Guess they don't get too many Canucks. The exhibits were enthralling and told the story of the Clinton's lives in fascinating detail but we made a hasty retreat when a couple of school buses disgorged hordes of rambunctious school children.



It was in 1957 that 9 black teens entered the front doors of Central High School, a formerly segregated all-white high school and I remember what happened so clearly as I was a teenager myself and the story was all over the news. They were greeted by a mob chanting racial slurs and obscenities and were turned away by the National Guard called in by the Arkansas Governor. Two weeks later the nine teens again attempted to gain entry to the school, rioting broke out and the police removed the nine again. President Eisenhower ordered federal troops to escort the nine in and to stay with them for all of their classes. This all happened at the beginning of the school year but the National Guard had to remain for the entire year. What a difference fifty years has made. It's almost impossible to now believe that this could have happened.


We miss Caesar terribly, but now that the initial grieving has passed we're noticing that we're much more free. Gone is the responsibility to rush home to him by 4pm; we can now stay out til midnight if we so desire. Gone is the guilt of leaving him behind. Gone is the worry about his allergies and his chronically infected eyes. Gone is the worry about when his time would come. We can once again take an international holiday; for the last two years, we just couldn't leave him.

We emailed our friends L&J in Las Vegas and said “watch out for a special on that 28 day around Australia cruise that we all wanted to take, because we can go now”. Coincidentally, three days later, they received notice of a two for one – very cheap on the very cruise I mentioned. Within twenty-four hours, they booked it for us with some tricky maneuvers around the fact that we (as Canadians, probably) weren't supposed to be able to get the same 2 for 1 fares. We'll take a couple of weeks to mooch around Australia before the cruise which means we'll be off at the beginning of November, and getting home just before Christmas.

Here's the itinerary:

Day Port Arrival Departure
1 Melbourne, Australia 11:59 PM
2 At Sea
3 Adelaide, Australia 8:00 AM 6:00 PM
4 At Sea
5 At Sea
6 Albany, Australia 8:00 AM 5:00 PM
7 Bunbury 9:00 AM 6:00 PM
8 Fremantle, Australia 8:00 AM 6:00 PM
9 At Sea
10 Exmouth, Australia 8:00 AM 6:00 PM
11 At Sea
12 Broome 8:00 AM 6:00 PM
13 At Sea
14 Darwin, Australia 8:00 AM 5:00 PM
15 At Sea
16 At Sea
17 Port Douglas 7:00 AM 4:00 PM
18 Airlie Beach, Australia 9:00 AM 7:00 PM
19 At Sea
20 At Sea
21 Brisbane, Australia 8:00 AM 8:00 PM
22 At Sea
23 Newcastle, Australia 8:00 AM 6:00 PM
24 Sydney, Australia 8:00 AM 8:00 PM
25 At Sea
26 Hobart (Tasmania), Australia 8:00 AM
27 Hobart (Tasmania), Australia 12:00 PM
28 Tasmania (Burnie), Australia 9:00 AM 5:00 PM
29 Melbourne, Australia 7:00 AM

How fortunate we are to have the lives we live. Not a day passes that we don't recognize the miracle and wonder of being able to live our life on the road – like snails, our home is always with us. We're living life for each day that dawns and loving every minute.

Getting our Kicks on Route 66

“Now you go through Saint Louis
Joplin, Missouri,
And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.
You see Amarillo
Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Ariona
Don't forget Winona,
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernadino.”

Those nostalgic lyrics from that old song Route 66, still play in my mind.

"(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66", often rendered simply as "Route 66", is a popular song and rhythm and blues standard, composed in 1946 by American songwriter Bobby Troup. It was first recorded in the same year by Nat King Cole, and was subsequently covered by many artists including Chuck Berry in 1961 and The Rolling Stones in 1964.The song's lyrics follow the path of the U.S. Route 66 highway, which used to run a long distance across the US, going from Chicago, Illinois to Los Angeles, California."

We skipped the Boulder Dam highway down to Kingman when we heard that there is still a restriction on commercial trucks and they're searching RV's apparently looking for bombs, I guess. Anyway it all creates a big backlog. To make things worse, there's construction along the route. So we re-routed through Laughlin which is only about 25 miles more. One night only in Laughlin, mostly for septic duty. Fernie played poker at his favourite haunt, the Edgewater, encountering the same old dealers and even some of the players from last year. I wandered over to the outlet mall which was a mistake because I bought some shoes and clothes that I probably didn't really need. Maybe gambling is cheaper. We stayed at the Riverside overlooking the river and enjoyed a late evening stroll along the riverwalk. The temperature was perfect.


Route 66 is such a nostalgic draw and Seligman, Arizona which is a dying town, has tried to bring in the tourists by tarting up the shops with manequins and memorabilia making an awfully gaudy display. Beside these colourful period pieces sit boarded up ramshackle buildings. Things are not good in Seligman.

Well, I'm a standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona
And such a fine sight to see
It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford
Slowin' down to take a look at me
Take it easy....Take it easy.........


The Eagles put Winslow back on the map when they recorded that unforgettable song 'Take it Easy' in the 1970's. The town is not very famous for much else and they've taken full advantage of that moment of fame, designating a street corner in memory. The corner park is a tribute to the song and a bronze statue of the songwriter, Jackson Browne with his guitar, stands under the lampost while a mural of the 'girl in the flat bed Ford' is painted on the building behind. The eagle on the windowledge above is obviously also a reference to the singing group. Across the road on a hard bench sat four native Americans snuggled up in their parkas against the keen wind totally disinterested in our inspection of the site. By the shoppers in Walmart, I'd say the town is 90% native Indian. I feel alright using the term Indian because all down the highway we saw billboards advertising products 'made by Indians'.


At the edge of town, La Posada Hotel, billed as the 'last great railroad hotel' is a quaint and picturesque inn which was restored & reopened in 1997. Trains roar by regularly about fifty feet from the door.


Many of the rich and famous of bygone days stayed here - actors, politicians, presidents & royalty.....I can't imagine what they wanted in Winslow. I suppose it was just a comfortable stop along the railway line. Clark Gable, Carole Lombard, Mary Pickford, Shirley Temple, the Lindberghs, Bob Hope, Jimmy Stewart, Howard Hughes are just a few that laid their heads down here.

A gruesome discovery on a geocaching jaunt - a decomposing carcass of what appeared to have been a dog. I was strangely fascinated at the grisly find.


It was bloated, the fur mostly gone and the putrid flesh was multi-hued; I wondered what had killed it while I felt sad that nobody really cared. Dogs run loose and free in Winslow and I don't think anyone missed this one. Our dear old Caesar who is almost 15 years old has been deaf for a couple of years now but it came on slowly and he doesn't even know what he's missing. We come home to Maggie, banging the doors & talking loudly and he doesn't rouse until he feels the shake of our moving around the motorhome. His eyesight has been dimming too over the last year and last night I noticed that he didn't see Fernie's hand moving about 3 feet in front of his eyes. When he's outside, he clings to the edge – whether it be a fence or any sort of border where he can sense the change in tone. However, he still has a good quality of life – every evening he finds his toy bag and shakes it as if it were prey to be killed and when the bag is emptied all over the floor, he noses through and chooses a particular one that he brings to us to wrestle with and throw. Every evening it might be a different toy but one in particular, Coco, gets more playtime than the rest. Coco is a hand knitted, 3 foot long clown that we bought new when he was 8 weeks old. Over the years, Coco has lost his head, his puffy buttons and his arms. One time years ago when we took Caesar to the Women's Prison for boarding and Coco went along with him, when we arrived home from our vacation, Coco had been through the washing machine and looked like new. We had never thought of that. Fifteen years later, Coco is as loved as ever - as is Caesar unlike that poor dog in the field.


The Acoma Pueblo, known as Sky City perched high on a sandstone mesa is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the United States, established somewhere between the 11th and 13th centuries. The scenic eighteen mile drive south of the highway weaves through Indian villages and spectacular rock formations and the land calls out to be explored and photographed but dire warnings prohibit hiking & climbing, sketching or video taping, and you must buy a permit to take photos. I abhor this sort of cash grab.


Up on I-40, the modern day Sky City Casino is a much better way to pry dollars from passing travellers. When we arrived, the wind was high and twirled dust from the surrounding barren lands blowing it into such a dust storm we had to close down all our vents quickly. Realizing that we wouldn't be able to leave our motorhome in the choking air, we decided to venture further and stopped at the Route 66 Casino, on the outskirts of Albuquerque. The wind abated somewhat, the sun was shining so we enjoyed a couple of days exploring corners of the city we hadn't seen on our last visit. Geocaching of course was our guide.


The first night the temperature plunged down to -5 degrees C (about 22 F) and when we woke in the morning, our kitchen taps were frozen and we were scared that our lines might have burst. Luckily, they thawed and all is fine. They say it never rains in Albuquerque but the following night, it poured and the drizzle continued as we drove out of town. Albuquerque is built in a basin and driving east we climbed up through the mountains and the rain turned to sleet and then to snow. Oh no! It didn't last though. Phew!

Tucumcari, New Mexico – the town that became obsolete along with Route 66. There used to be 2,000 hotel rooms in this little burg and they still advertise that there are 1,200 rooms and they're priced as low as $19.95 a night. How can they stay in business at those prices? They haven't been remodelled since the 1960's to all appearances. Perhaps they don't change the sheets or clean the rooms – anyway, I'm sure they are home to billions of bed bugs. It's a forsaken town that used to be vibrant in its hayday with Route 66 slashing through the center with a five mile long strip of motel after motel. Today we witnessed tumbleweeds rolling on down the dusty highway. We stayed at the biggest store in town - the Kmart - and there was a buildup of trash in the surrounding fields that probably hasn't been picked up for twenty years. The population is less than 6,000 now and I'm sure the economy is more depressed than just about anywhere else in the United States. The inhabitants must be depressed too; the grocery store had a liquor department almost as big as the food area. Folks need to forget their troubles. Tucumcari is not a tourist destination.

The sun shone bright as we whipped across the Texas Panhandle. We were definitely in 'big sky' country now, with cattle grazing on the open range. Massive stockyards were heralded by the pungent aroma which invaded our nostrils long before the thousands of cattle came into sight. Texas is proud of being the biggest and having the biggest of everything. The 'biggest cross' a massive structure that is lighted up at night stands proudly beside Interstate 40; was it intended to draw us in to pray? This is also a bible belt and churches proliferate. Another eyecatching gimmick was Cadillac Ranch just west of Amarillo. Ten classic caddies are half buried in a row at about a 75 degree angle in the middle of a farmer's field, tail fins up. Over the years, graffiti artists have colourfully decorated the vintage autos. It's like a modern day Stonehenge. Wonder what they'll think of this 1,000 years hence!


O-O-Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain
And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet
When the wind comes right behind the rain.
We know we belong to the land
And the land we belong to is grand!
And when we say
Yeeow! Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
We're only sayin'
You're doin' fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma O.K.


Oklahomans are mighty friendly folk. From the matrons at the welcome centre who gathered books and maps for all our destinations to the welcome in a grocery store “Hey! How're you doin' today?” We drove into the small town of Sayre to use their dump station at the local City Park. Unable to find it, I walked over to a maintenance shed where a slow talkin' short on words cowboy type was working on a golf cart. “O'er there” he gestured when I asked - “the road” and went right back to work. I walked in the general direction but where was it? Fernie stayed back in the motorhome waiting for me to call him on. Putt, putt, putt.......along came the cowboy in his golfcart signalling Fernie to follow him and he led us right up to the station. What I took for indifference was just his Gary Cooper manner. “Yur welcome Ma'am” he answered and tipped his hat when I thanked him.

El Reno, a western suburb of Oklahoma City is a historical town on route 66. It is in Canada County and the Canadian River flows just north of town. Just a few miles further north stands the Lucky Star Casino on a knoll with the Oklahoma plains spreading out in all directions. We discovered sitting high is not necessarily good, that we would pay for the views when the winds 'came sweeping down the plains' and the keen north wind that first afternoon sent a chill right down to the bone even though the sun shone brightly (an omen of things to come). The Lucky Star obviously appreciates Rvers and provides ten spots with full hookups (electricity, water & sewer) at no charge. We were comfortably ensconced for the next few days while we explored the city.


Our on-board generator had been causing us problems since Chehalis and we figured it was about time that we got a technician to take a look at it. Fernie made an appointment with Cummins Diesel in Oklahoma City and we were prepared to spend a couple of hundred dollars for the repair. I told you, Oklahomans are mighty fine folk, if short on words - “No charge” the long grey-bearded mechanic who looked like a member of ZZTop, muttered after spending forty-five minutes on it. “Just needed a carb adjustment” he said and ushered us out the door. While we were waiting for Maggie in the small drab customer lounge, we chatted to an aging trucker of Indian descent (from the Punjab). He'd been waiting for his truck to be repaired for four days staying in a dingy hotel across the road and hanging around hoping his presence would hasten the job. “I had to give my load away” he uttered in broken English “$4,000 I've lost so far”. He went on to tell us that he would be working until he died; that he couldn't retire because he wouldn't be able to get social security but he loved America and felt lucky to be here. When Fernie went down to the shop floor to talk to the mechanic, the trucker and I talked about India. I told him we'd been to India but not the Punjab and wanted to go back. He broke into a broad smile while he nostalgically told me all about his homeland, its beauty, its climate, its people. I decided not to ask him why he left such a wonderful country.

The weather report was ominous that Wednesday evening. Not tornadoes though, thank goodness – that's my worst fear. A storm coming up from the south, from Texas would bring freezing temperatures and snow. WHAT? So we battened down the hatches; unhooked our water in case of freeze-up; put our heaters on high and comfortably watched some TV, surfed the web, played poker online (in Fernie's case), and read our papers and books waiting for the storm. It started in the middle of the night as we lay warmly cocooned in our bed. Rat-a-tat-tat on the roof went the rain and we were lulled back to sleep.


But we woke to a winter landscape; freezing rain had turned Maggie into a popsicle with a coating of marbled ice and dripping icicles. It turned to snow and before it was finished, a couple of inches covered the ground. Well then, I just won't take of my pyjamas and I stayed that way until afternoon. We only ventured out to do a bit of shopping later on. “Howdy neighbour” I heard the Texas twang from the trailer down the way “some weathr is'n it?”. “Where you'all from?” he inquired and when I told him Canada, he guffawed “So, you brought this stuff with you?”.

The forecast looked promising one more minor rain storm to come through then by Saturday, it'd be back in the 60's and Sunday in the 70's. But this was Friday and it was still wintery cold. I dragged out our gloves and scarves, we dressed in warm layers and ventured out for a day of discovery. OK City is a small city, with no urban sprawl; from wide open ranchland, suddenly you're in the city center. Parking is easy to find on the street and for 25 cents you get a half an hour – what a deal! If you wanted to walk a couple of blocks away, there was free parking to be found.


We remember so clearly that day of April 19, 1995 when some insane young Americans, upset by the government's handling of the Waco, Texas seige in 1993, drove a truckload of explosives in front of a government building in downtown Oklahoma City & detonated it. It tore the front out of the building killing 168, including 17 children from a daycare center, and injuring over 800. We visited the memorial on the site of the destroyed Federal Building, a very moving visit. A chain link fence fronting the memorial grounds is intertwined with hundreds of mementos and tributes to lost loved ones.


Monumental twin bronze gates frame the 9:02 moment of destruction. 9:01 found on the eastern gate, represents the last moments of peace, while its opposite on the western gate, 9:03, represents the first moments of recovery. 168 empty chairs hand-crafted from glass, bronze & stone represent those who lost their lives.




Across the street outside St Joseph's Catholic Church is a statue of Jesus weeping, his back to the destruction. Visiting OK City, I felt so much more what this small city must have gone through – it was a shocking act of terrorism that can never be truly fathomed.


At the east end of downtown, across the railroad tracks near the Santa Fe Depot lies Bricktown, once the warehouse district and the original site of the city. They've rebuilt it as an entertainment district, with bars and clubs, restaurants, a movie theater, ballpark and live music venues. The Bricktown Canal is lined with some of these bars and restaurants, much like a mini San Antonio riverwalk. A group of scalpers stood on the street corners waving tickets for an important interstate basketball tournament. Fernie asked a seven foot ebony-skinned guy who was playing and the loose-limbed giant opened his mouth and displayed more gold than I've seen at an Indian wedding. Every one of his teeth was gold; if it had been sunny, we'd have been blinded. It was too cold to linger so we nipped inside a cafe for warmth & sustenance.

Saturday dawned with promise of a warmer day and by early afternoon the sun shone brightly and our spirits were cheered. The Public Market sounded like a pleasant way to spend a morning but when we got there it was closed up tightly. Found out later that it had closed down just two months ago but I don't know why. Stockyard City is just a mile down the way, so we ventured over there instead.


It's the pioneer old west heritage of OK City with shops dedicated to cowboy apparel & tack – rows and rows of cowboy boots and hats, leather vests and plaid shirts. The famous Cattlemen's Restaurant was packed full of folk tucking in to steak and potatoes. The stockyards themselves have live auctions twice a week; when we went there, just a few pigs were in residence and I couldn't look them in the eye without guilt knowing they'd be headed for the slaughter house. Why are we humans not more evolved and not eat the flesh of living beings?

A monumental day today.......we found our 1,000th geocache in Oklahoma City. You can tell that we really love this diversion. We marked number 1,000 at the Oklahoma Veterans Memorial across the road from the capital. Now - on to 2,000.


All good things must come to an end and this morning, March 15, 2009 at 7:02am in Oklahoma City, Caesar's life was snuffed out. We had tried to prepare ourselves for this moment; after all, he would be 15 in another 5 weeks. But it didn't matter that he was deaf and he was blind, he was our dearly loved little Caesar and we will miss him terribly.

Caesar slept between our pillows when we travelled in Maggie and when it got really cold, he slid down under the covers and snuggled into the crook of my legs. He slept soundly and long, never getting us up for toilet duty. But this morning, we woke about 4:30am as Caesar struggled to catch his breath and shivered uncontrollably. Fernie cuddled and tried to soothe him but it was obvious that his little body was in distress. We found that there was an all-night veterinarian hospital in Oklahoma City and we wrapped him up and drove him in, Fernie in the back seat holding Caesar. The sky was eerily clear, the moon bright and the roads empty. We didn't talk, each of us knowing that this was it – the end of our time with Caesar. My thoughts went to the night before when Caesar kept nudging the bathroom door as I showered so that he could come in to join me; then his demands for us to play with him endlessly; and his shrill yelps telling us it was bedtime. Yesterday, we stopped at a steak restaurant and brought home a big piece for Caesar's dinner. He slurped it down in record time and licked the bowl endlessly afterwards to get every morsel of flavour. What a life he had; he was king in our household; treated as well (or maybe better) as our children had been; travelled with us from west coast to east coast, from the southernmost point in the USA to the top of the Yukon in the far north of Canada; ate like a king; slept with us. But.......he gave us far more and life without him will not be easy.

When we arrived at the veterinary hospital, a young lady rushed to open the door for us. Caesar lay in Fernie's arms wrapped in his black blanket....this alone pointed to how ill he was because Caesar normally would not be held or stay in our arms but would fight to get down. His coal black sightless eyes peered out at me without fear and seemingly content to be held by the one he loved best. It was his heart; it was giving out with old age; and there was no healing it. His time had come. We had the best care imaginable from the lovely Oklahomans in that late night hospital. Caesar was given an IV as Fernie held him and gently slipped away. The young lady in administration who I dealt with, shed a tear and dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex as I told her about Caesar......I was amazed that she was not immune to these occurrences. I told her we were travelling through and she said 'Awwwww......well, God bless you' and grabbed me into a huge bear hug. Both Fernie and I remained stoic throughout all of this but when it was over, we melted into emotional heaps. The pain will continue for a while, we know, but it will get easier and the tears will stop eventually.



This picture was taken on March 13, 2009 just a day and a half before he died. He was worn out from an aggressive fight over Coco - that's the knitted thing hanging on his back.

Tulsa was a blur. We'd left our best pal behind and our interest in sightseeing and geocaching was nil. We kept busy though. It's all history now.

Viva Las Vegas!

From the sublime peace of the mountains and desert it was now time to move back to civilization and our destination was Las Vegas, the absolute antithesis with its glitz, glamour and gaming.



We needed to maintain Maggie's septic system; that sounds better than 'dump', doesn't it? Our tanks were getting full and we were low on water. All the RV parks in Tecopa & Pahrump charge $10 for this duty and one of them doesn't even include filling with water. But a couple of days ago, we stopped in at the RV park in Shoshone because we'd be passing right by it and asked the lack-lustre manager how much he'd charge and he said “no charge; just pull into one of the camp sites and help yourself.” Now isn't that hospitable. As is usual, I was guiding Fernie as he backed Maggie in towards the sewer valve. Walking backwards and gesturing for him to turn, I obviously hadn't properly scanned the terrain because all of a sudden I tripped over a largish (a foot across) rock that was protruding up about 10 inches from the ground. I flailed wildly to try to regain my footing and I must have spun around because I was about to fall flat on my face.....the ground was rushing to meet me but there was another rock roughly the same size about five feet further along and it was about to meet my nose. Splat! Owwwwwww! it really hurt........I actually didn't yell out loud though; it was all internalized and I was seeing stars. My left hand, by the pain in my wrist, must have helped slow the collision because if I'd hit full force, surely my nose would have been broken to bits.

The rock in the foreground is the one I tripped on and the one behind it is what met my nose.

And if you double click on this photo, you can see the bloody imprint of my nose

From Fernie's perspective, he was watching me in his mirror when suddenly, I wasn't there anymore and he saw me sprawled out lifeless in his rear view camera. Good thing he stopped and didn't run over me.......see, it could have been much worse. And luckily, there was nobody around to witness such an embarrassing event. He rushed out to help me up and was aghast to see my blood covered face. He retrieved my glasses which had flown off, and my keys and cell phone that flew out of my pockets. My glasses have a couple of deep scratches on them but luckily they're just below my line of sight so can probably manage to use them until I get home. I do have separate reading glasses. I had packed two bags of peas in the freezer when we left home in case Fernie needed them for his hip so they came in handy now. By the time I got them out and wrapped them in a facecloth, my nose which was still dripping with blood, was double it's size. I managed to finish guiding Fernie in, all the while holding the peas on my throbbing nose; even managed to help hook up our tow vehicle, then went in to take a good look in the mirror. YIKES!

Be forewarned: the following pictures are not for the faint of heart or those who'd mourn my lost beauty :-)

This was taken immediately after.

This one the next day; is anyone going to believe Fernie when he says he's innocent.

And the day after that. I look a bit like Rihanna after Chris Brown had his way with her.

I saw a cross between Rudolph and Jimmy Durante. Cherry red at the tip, a blue bruise was already starting to form across the bridge. Why did this have to happen when we're on the way to Las Vegas when we'll be surrounded by people. This past week, we've lived a solitary hermit-like existence, but no, I had to do it now. I continued to ice it for 15 minutes every hour, on the advice of my daughter who I skyped so I could whine to her about my sad story.

After makeup - still pretty grotesque but I wasn't going to let my vanity stand in the way of enjoying LV

We used Pahrump, 60 miles west of LV, as a spot to do laundry & replenish supplies It's a typical Nevada town with gambling its main industry. We asked at Terrible's Casino in the center of town if we might spend the night in their large parking lot and they warmly welcomed us. The laundromat was almost next door and Walmart and Albertson's were just down the street. The Nugget Casino even had a special dinner, a 2 for 1 buffet... $8.99. Hoping the lights would be dim enough that I didn't scare the other diners, I took pleasure in not having to prepare dinner. What more could we want. I was sort of afraid though that some old guy would call out "Hey Lady, did yer ol' man clean your clock?". Pahrump! Now there's a name....makes me think of the Xmas carol,The Little Drummer Boy – pah-rump-a-pum-pum. It's not too scenic of a town....it's more like the desert burped and brought it up.

Now that's better if you ignore the nose; I bought a couple of pairs of big sunglasses and wore them constantly.

I woke the following morning struggling to open my slit-like eyes. They had almost swollen shut. A stint with the frozen peas took the swelling down enough for me to see myself in the mirror. Eeeeeekk! my eyes had gone black and the nose still looked like an uncooked slab of liver.

Poor Las Vegas! The current economic crisis is crippling their major industry. Other than the addicted gamblers who will continue to play under dire circumstances, normal people are just not spending money on gambling and dining out and shows. The chain of Station Casinos, known as 'locals' casinos, are in trouble and I believe filing for protection. The earliest signs of the recession were seen in Las Vegas with thousands of property foreclosures and the resulting dumping of real estate values.


Our friends, L&J invited us once again to park Maggie at their house near the Summerlin area of LV. They live on a quiet street and we see so much more of them that way. L&J managed to snag 4 tickets to see Le Reve at the Wynn at 2 for 1 prices. These offers are only for 'locals', so aren't we lucky to have 'locals' for friends. Le Reve, a Cirque de Soleil production is all in or on water. The theater which is in the round, surrounds a large and deep pool where staging emerges and submerges throughout the performance. It was an amazing performance that was too fantastical to truly describe.


We dined out in a different restaurant every night and found it was amazingly reasonable to do so, especially with the 'locals' specials. One night when the bill came, Fernie & Larry each put down their credit cards and asked the waiter to 'split it in half'. He was a tall, heavy set man of Asian descent (& he contradicted the stereotype – he wasn't a mathematical genius). He rationed his words, didn't crack a smile and managed to avoid us as much as he could. Thank goodness for the busboy who did more than his share. The surly waiter returned and said 'we couldn't do the split exactly, so one is a bit more than the other'. We expected a penny difference because how difficult is it to divide by 2? Imagine our surprise when it differed by over $2.......we were hysterical with laughter; they obviously don't hire their help for their brainpower. As Jean said “I'd hate to share my chocolate bar with him”.

Our daughter recommended a restaurant at the Palazzo (there's also one at the Venetian) which had been recommended to her by her brother. It's called the Grand Lux and they serve such humungous dishes that the servers warn “If you haven't been here before, the plates are very large and you may share if you wish”. Isn't that amazing for a restaurant on the strip? Fernie & I chose Caramel Thai Chicken (also suggested by 'you know who'). It was to die for and I swear it was really enough for three....but we didn't leave even a grain of rice. Gotta go back there next visit. This same daughter (oh, that's right – we only have one) told us of a new vodka they'd sampled in a Yaletown winter festival (that's in Vancouver) so we bought a bottle of the Icelandic Siku and imbibed it almost daily 'on the rocks' with a squeeze and slice of lime. It was so smooth, it massaged the tonsils – we liked it better than Grey Goose. Happy hour with L&J is a pleasant routine; somedays it would be margaritas, ruby vodka tonics or wine but we never missed. Not that we're drinkers???

Las Vegas has the best dog parks we've ever found, so each day we'd take Caesar over for an hour of ''sniffin' & peeing”. The park for small dogs was about the size of a football field and it adjoined a park for large dogs which was even bigger. Caesar met bassets, schnauzers, dacshunds, chihuahuas, yorkies, mutts – just about every dog imaginable. He couldn't hear them or see them, but his tail wagged like a pendulum and his sniffer was put to full use as they'd run over to greet him. You meet some odd characters in Las Vegas dog parks. An old (eightyish) & toothless chap had a little black pomeranian that he'd rescued. Little Suzie wouldn't leave his side and when they were ready to leave, the old geezer put little wraparound goggles on Suzie, mounted her into a chest carrier and off they roared in a puff of smoke on a beatup motorcycle. “She used to have a helmet, but it fell off her while we were riding one day and we couldn't find it” he told us pleased at our interest.

Another day, a middle-aged woman who fawned all over Caesar told me she'd babysit for him anytime we wanted to go away; and when I told her we weren't from LV, she invited us to stay with her anytime we came back. I don't think we'll take her up on her offer – she was clearly 'touched'.

We awoke every day to the typical weather....sunshine and more sunshine – no complaints from us! So we explored different corners of the city by geocaching which in LV is absolutely unimaginative. We did some urban caching and if we find one more micro lamp post cache, we'll scream. Of course, we found time to poke into casinos here and there, but there's a little bit of “been there, done that” feeling.

Some of our 'only in Las Vegas' moments:

Romance Las Vegas style

A couple getting 'hitched' at a drive up wedding window.

Tatoo parlour; maybe if I get a rose on my chest, nobody will notice my face.

Picture behind the toilet in the ladies' room

Is he drunk or just tired? And why is he wearing that crown?

There's only one thing we miss when we're on the road and that's internet access, so this year while in Las Vegas, we decided to splurge and purchased a 'mobile internet USB modem' and signed up for a Verizon plan. It's great! As we roll on down the highway, I'm surfing and Skyping and downloading and answering email. We also blew some $'s on a larger LCD TV for our bedroom – it's just 23 inches so not exactly big screen but in our tiny bedroom and compared to our old one, it's huge. Fernie got his first 'old age pension' cheque in February (yes, that's right – he's 65) so we figure the first two months are now spent.