Cache Creek,
British Columbia,
Canada
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The day started with the fog. Dense, thick fog coming out of Ft. St. John. I traveled south. I hit the end of the Alcan within the hour of starting and fueled up before heading down 97 towards Vancouver. This part of the trip was far more domestic- the roads all paved and in good condition, farmhouses, livestock, the whole nine yards. I debated on stopping at a lake, but the town didn't seem that interesting, so I wound up gunning it down to Cache Creek, ariving as it was getting dark. It was clear and the sun had been out all day, so I elected to camp. I found the campground with no problem and it was run like a European one- by a German-speaker. Free pool, free showers, but $17/night. Cheaper than a hotel so I took it and settled down into a nice bed of grass, hoping that the cool dry air would dry my tent out from its earlier incident at Watson Lake.
Along the way- particularly close to Cache Creek, the landscape went from farmland and green trees and mountains to a desert complete with sage brush and beautiful rolling hills. It reminded me of Oregon and it made me all the more eager to get there.
