A Note on Logistics

I'm writing this sitting in the back of the Reaper. When I look up, my view out past Janine and through the open rear doors is of Lake Tyax, twenty feet away. The surface of the lake is shrouded with mist, which comes and goes and shifts around with no discernible pattern. The upper reaches of the hills on the far side of the lake are shrouded in a heavier curtain, which parts at times to reveal the trees in their various shades of green. Rain is falling, and the sky overhead is grey, although it's no longer the heavy, leaden shade it was earlier this morning. Just as well we're happy in the van, in our bags for warmth, with our books and our coffees.

By the time this post is online, we'll be miles from here - we're hoping to find internet access a couple of days from now in Lillooet, which is 98-112km from here, depending on which map you choose to believe. Generally speaking, when we're out in the woods being feral we have limited and occasional internet connectivity. Accordingly, blog posts are written offline, and uploaded in batches once we get to a place where we can get a connection. This means that the blog is usually 3-14 days behind what we're actually doing, and that if you only read the posts which appear at the top of the page - like this one - you're going to be missing some background.

We don't upload pics when we're out and about because they take ages to shunt up - and have been known to max out - the often-skinny public pipe, which makes both us and other users grumpy. Every so often we'll take an opportunity to retrofit pics to posts, as we did during our most recent Vancouver sojourn. I'll drop an informational note to that effect whenever it's done so you know there's new pictorial goodness to be found in the archives.

The Tyax Air float-plane has just landed on the lake - its flight path brought it across our field of vision still airborne - and then taken off again, probably delivering camping gear to mountain-bikers up at Spruce or Lorna Lake. The rain has stopped, and now the only sounds are of water dripping from the trees at the edges of the clearing and the calls of two loons at opposite ends of the lake. The mist is still clinging to the hills, and the cry of the loon seems even more lonely and isolated than it did when we first heard it, at Spruce Lake a couple of days back.

Sunshine has kissed the trees on the far side of the lake and is heading this way. Time to gear up and get on the bikes.







NOTE: I've just uploaded this in Lillooet, days after writing it, and weeks after the events detailed in the other posts just loaded. Several more are waiting to be pushed up, but it's too hot to hang around in the Subway parking lot any longer. Next stop: Williams Lake.