After leaving Coeur d'Alene, I crossed into Washington State. It was Sunday morning, and after raining steadily all night, it had finally stopped. and traffic on the I-90W was light. I made good time and skirted Spokane. I was surprised at how large a city it appeared to be, I would say the biggest I had seen since Denver. However, my old nemesis would not leave me alone. The wind had picked up again and made things tough, but at least it wasn't up in dangerous territory. I headed northwards through prosperous looking farm country, which eventually turned into an elevated desert which reminded me of parts of Chile and Bolivia to look at. Soon after, I went past the Grand Coulee dam, a large hydroelectric scheme, and out through Indian (native) territory. I stopped at the Chief Joseph Memorial, and read about the plight of the Nez Perce indians and their harsh treatment, nay persecution, at the hands of the Government and the army. I first heard of this in Yellowstone, and it caught my interest. I guess there are two sides to every story, but it looked to me like the indians had been systematically dudded by the government, who reneged on treaties, then sent in the army to finish the job. It was not one of the finest moments in American history, but the story of colonisation and displacement of indiginous peoples is a pretty sorry one throughout history. The counrtyside around here is characterised by broken down houses strewn with junk, although the nearby town of Omak looked a bit better, and had a noticeably high proportion of indians in the population.
I pushed on through to the small town of Oroville, just 5 miles short of the Canadian border, and stopped for the night. This region is covered in orchards producing various types of fruit, and looked pretty good. Crossing the border next morning could not have been much easier. I made it harder than it might have been by looking around for someone to tell that I was planning on leaving the US. It appeared that nobody gave a rats, but I'm still glad I made sure before proceeding direct to the Canadian side. A few simple questions, was I carrying firearms, pepper spray, alcohol, tobacco, etc. No, no no, no, yuddah, yuddah. The one I was waiting for was fruit. That would have got a yes, so my one remaining banana and I crossed into Canada. I should add that I was prepared to ritually eat it on the spot rather than hand it over alive. But it never came to that.
Step one, get some money. Into the first servo I see, and straight to the ATM. After playing with the thing for about 5 minutes, to no avail, I ask for assistance. "Oh, its not working", said the dill behind the counter, the one that had been watching me for the last 5 minutes. Not much happens in Osoyoos. Across the road to another servo ATM, this time it went much better right up to the bit where its supposed to spit the money out, and I get a message Unauthorised Transaction, Contact Your Bank on the screen. I'm two for two. Good start. I had enough gas to get to the next town, where I was able to use a drive in ATM at a bank, and finally got some cash. Proper looking money and all, plastic notes just like ours, and with a picture of Her Majesty on it! That must get right up the noses of the French part of the country, which must be a good thing.
A few hours later, after some very nice bends on the road between Princeton and Hope, I saw my first bear, running along in a ditch beside the road. I slowed, not sure what it was going to do, so I got a good look at it, and passed it without incident. It did slow me down a bit. Not long after, I found my way straight to the abode of Wes and Deb Jamison, where I was to meet up with Roger Knapp. They had left me a note on the front door, saying they had gone to Seattle and would be back by 8 pm. I looked at my watch. 3 pm. Oh good. I stretched out on the front porch with my riding jacket for a pillow and went straight to sleep. No point rushing these things.
I pushed on through to the small town of Oroville, just 5 miles short of the Canadian border, and stopped for the night. This region is covered in orchards producing various types of fruit, and looked pretty good. Crossing the border next morning could not have been much easier. I made it harder than it might have been by looking around for someone to tell that I was planning on leaving the US. It appeared that nobody gave a rats, but I'm still glad I made sure before proceeding direct to the Canadian side. A few simple questions, was I carrying firearms, pepper spray, alcohol, tobacco, etc. No, no no, no, yuddah, yuddah. The one I was waiting for was fruit. That would have got a yes, so my one remaining banana and I crossed into Canada. I should add that I was prepared to ritually eat it on the spot rather than hand it over alive. But it never came to that.
Step one, get some money. Into the first servo I see, and straight to the ATM. After playing with the thing for about 5 minutes, to no avail, I ask for assistance. "Oh, its not working", said the dill behind the counter, the one that had been watching me for the last 5 minutes. Not much happens in Osoyoos. Across the road to another servo ATM, this time it went much better right up to the bit where its supposed to spit the money out, and I get a message Unauthorised Transaction, Contact Your Bank on the screen. I'm two for two. Good start. I had enough gas to get to the next town, where I was able to use a drive in ATM at a bank, and finally got some cash. Proper looking money and all, plastic notes just like ours, and with a picture of Her Majesty on it! That must get right up the noses of the French part of the country, which must be a good thing.
A few hours later, after some very nice bends on the road between Princeton and Hope, I saw my first bear, running along in a ditch beside the road. I slowed, not sure what it was going to do, so I got a good look at it, and passed it without incident. It did slow me down a bit. Not long after, I found my way straight to the abode of Wes and Deb Jamison, where I was to meet up with Roger Knapp. They had left me a note on the front door, saying they had gone to Seattle and would be back by 8 pm. I looked at my watch. 3 pm. Oh good. I stretched out on the front porch with my riding jacket for a pillow and went straight to sleep. No point rushing these things.
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