Grandmothers Sitting Shotgun. Hope to Windermere

So I arrived safely.

I left Hope, safely nestled into the end of the Fraser Valley. Friends, and new acquaintances getting ready for the weekend, spring break, and plans for gardening. Off I rolled. Tank full, oil checked, and tires kicked. Just me and the highway, or so I thought.

Now for the non Calamity Janes, you do not know how interesting highway travel can be. Blown tires, hydro planning, jack knifed rigs, these are some of the things that can greet you on the #1 in BC. I was just grateful that the only thing that came up in the first couple of hours was my need to empty my bladder.

As I rolled in and did my radio announcement to self, "Welcome to the Beautiful Town of Merit.", I looked around and realized that Merit in March really is not that beautiful. It was my first time in Merritt. There are no gas stations on the Eastbound entrance, so I had to drive right into town. A real working man's town, giving me things to look at. Huge log lot at that main intersection, which is a four way stop.

I can only imagine how fantastic it is during the Merit Country Music Festival, hot dust, big trucks, sun making your skin tingle, and of course loud Country Music.

She was standing behind the counter unassuming punching away at the cash register. As I interrupted her routine looking for the "facility", she looked up at me over her glasses and there she was, my grandma. Those bright, almost white eyes with the dark ring around the pupil. Her smile, had some nooks and crannies, but she was working hard smiling and getting the job done. And that was my Jenny Betts.

So I asked for the key to the bathroom. When I came back I asked her if I could take a picture of her. She looked a tad suspicious, and asked why. I promptly told her that she reminded me of my grandmother, hard working logger and with those amazing eyes. She chuckled, said yes, and smiled shyly.

Now my grandmother would probably not be my biggest fan. I am too altruistic, with a bleeding heart. I am the one that rescues dogs, I can not afford, and if I had to many cats, well the SPCA would be my first stop rather than the end of the wharf with a potato sack and a big rock. That was the Betts way. And she probably would not approve.

And that is perfectly fine with me.

I hope that she does appreciate my desire to continue to try to ...try to... well try to do whatever the hell it is I am trying to do. Be a kind, good person. Is that what it is I am trying to do? Regardless, I loved my grandmother, honor her tenacity, and am a tad jealous of her work ethic. Never ending she was, and probably still is, where ever she might be. And I was sure glad to see her.

Oddly enough just before I had pulled in to Merrit I think I might have been having a visit from my Gran. She was an amazingly hard worker as I mentioned. Logger by horse in her teen years in the Function Junction area of Whistler, raised 4 kids in a very small town on Northern Vancouver Island, which then would have been considered a logging camp. In addition to her family she always had a border. Took in every stray known to man. She was quite an emotional firecracker, not really my style unless I have a bought of the flu I just can't beat. But there I was well rested, healthy as a horse, 20 minutes out of Merritt, driving down the highway pulling a Jenny Betts. This is not a bad thing at all, but my emotions were running high, thinking of the journey behind me and the adventures ahead. The visit was nice, but eventually I had to ask for a bit of a reprieve as my drive had just begun, and a clear head was necessary for the highway ahead. And then I pulled into the gas station and there she was. I must have conjured her up in my mind......

And off I trotted. The next family members I ran into were in Pritchard Station, just past Kamloops. Now my brothers ex wife, is from this area and last name is Pritchard, so I can only assume that these are her ancestors. Because I was on the family thing and paying attention. I stopped and took a picture, and looked around. Others might have only seen rigs, a gas station and a shiny VW parked out front. What I saw as the First Nations gentleman walked out to his car, was my step father and brother, I looked over to the rigs and thought of my Uncle, and of course my ex sister in law. It was nice. My Stepfather's family was from The Prairies and were part German, part First Nations. Funny combination in our family. My mother always called this Grandma “The Battle Ax.” Not very nice but possibly a bit true.

There you have it, it warmed my heart to think that they were all with me, as at one time our love, I believed knew no bounds. And then back on the road, cut them all loose and keep on moving. That is what one has to do, when one is on the road. Love them and leave them.

Revelstoke. I stopped and saw the girl that I lived with for a few years in Banff, and she is fantastic. So after stopping and taking her inventory, or trying my best not to, I continued to push on to the Windermere Valley. That highway between Golden and Revelstoke, never surprises me. Whenever I get there it is always twilight, and always raining. Wow, what a slog. Makes you remember how much you love life, when in an hour of driving time the rubber probably spends about 20 minutes on the highway, due to hydro planning.

I have a bit of history with the Windermere Valley. My ex from 22 years ago was my destination. As I drove towards him once more, our relationship of course flew through my mind. Another member of my family, really. Not one I talk to that often, and really we do not do alot of talking when I am around, but someone that after 2 years 5 years, 10 years or even 20 you know that when you show up on their doorstep you have somewhere to sleep. That is family. Ok, they have to meet a few other criteria, but at the present those things are slipping my mind.

When I arrived it was Friday evening, and there was some laughter, and wine and a quite day the next day. Today it is Sunday and we are off to paddle the Columbia River. My mother once told me that My Great Great Great Uncle was John Jacob Astor, I have not done any research myself but this is the story. Now if this is true, today I will be standing where one of my ancestors did over 200 years ago. John Jacob Astor was in the first exploration party over the Great Divide. It really will be a great day. Sunshine, new people and well old people, and maybe a few ghosts along the way. Not a bad thing!