In which the journey takes a turn for the remote

It appears I left us stranded in Jasper for the last two weeks. Seriously, two weeks. If I keep this up, I'll have us rolling into Alaska on Christmas day.

So yes. Jasper. After a dreary day of rain, the sun came edging out of the clouds just as we drove into town. We soaked in the vitamin D as we walked to dinner in the picturesque village. The children stopped along the way to climb and pose on bear and moose statues and beg for stupid gimmicky pink tourist crap. Yeah, um, no. We're giving you freakin' experiences of a lifetime, kids. You're just going to have to find a way to keep on living without the basket of miniature pink bear cubs. (Sheesh--you could dye a cockroach pink and my daughter would want to buy it.)

I took the kids to the hotel pool for a bit, then shuffled their dripping wet, dog tired bodies back to the room so L could settle them into bed. Then I donned one of the dry-wick tees collecting dust in my suitcase and headed out for a twilight run faster than Bogs fly off the shelves at an Anchorage Costco.  It was exactly what I needed to keep from going cattywampus. (We've covered this before, I believe.)

My turn-around point on the out-and-back run through Jasper

After Jasper, things got a bit more, howshallwesay, remote. We drove to Smithers, BC the following day. This was the part of the show when you fill up at every gas station you pass and begin to subsist on trail mix and random pantry items the packers left but you didn't want to throw away. (I may or may not have polished off a bag of croutons and called it lunch.)

And you learn something every day. When a sign says, "Watch for Livestock", this is what it means:
If I'm going to have to slow down, it might as well be for these beauties. They sure beat the heck out of Chicago traffic.

When we checked into the motel in Smithers, my husband gave me the "you seriously couldn't find anything better?!" look while my children hoped against hope (despite my repeated assertions to the contrary) that there might be a pool. I smiled at the clerk, took the keys, and then shot back my best "Don't. Just. Don't." look to everyone who dared make eye contact.

Later that evening, in this discomfort of our own space, I warned my husband. It's going to get worse before it gets better. You think tonight's bad? Just wait until tomorrow....

Dun dun duuuunnnn....

What? Don't you like my suspenseful ending? Aren't you hooked? Well then, come back tomorrow to hear the rest! Or maybe make that two weeks from tomorrow, or sometime before Halloween, or by the turn of the century...