Any port in a storm and the good samaritan
We leave Grande Cache after a good breakfast and friendly morning dialog. Everywhere we go we meet the nicest people wanting to know where we are going and where we are coming from. Sorta gives you a warm fuzzy feeling inside, ya know, eh.
It is already raining as we leave town and it's cool outside, or maybe cold. 7 degrees Celsius. We see wildlife as usual but Kathy is protecting her camera as well as her fingers from the weather so the picture taking is at a minimum.
My heated grips are sit on the highest sitting and I cannot feel my fingers any longer after an hour of riding. My shoulders are hurting from being tense from the cold and I'm starting to shake. I know Kathy is miserable but she never complains.
I had seen an oil company office several miles back and was tempted to pull in to get warm. This is oil country, big trucks are entering and exiting the highway leaving muddy debris in their wake. Workers in pickup trucks are out and about, probably thinking the weather is beautiful after surviving a winter where temperatures plummet to 30 degrees below zero.
I'm from Arkansas though, and usually in Arkansas I wear my Aerostich suit in cold weather. I didn't wear it on this trip because it is a little snug,,,,ahem, and, if I wear similar clothes to Kat then I'll know how comfortable she is also.
Seeing another oil company operation I take a chance and pull in among the semi-trucks to a couple of small pre-fab offices. As I shut my engine off a lady sticks her head out of an open door with a look that says, you've ruined my perfect day.
I ask her, can we come inside for a little bit and get warm. She smiles and says sure, come on in. I'm a little surprised that inside the office is not much warmer than outside and she is wearing a short sleeved shirt. She tells us to have a seat and we do on a nice soft couch. She can tell we are cold, so she kicks the heater on and fixes us a pot of coffee. Her name is Linda and she is an angel.
As it turns out, Linda is security and takes her job seriously. No motorcycles or four wheelers are allowed inside the oil company property and she just knew we were wanting inside the gates for some reason, thus the scowl when we pulled up.
We visited for probably an hour getting warm, drinking coffee, and sharing tidbits of each others lives, national affairs, and the economy. We got to see her in action, telling the truck drivers what to do and where to go. She was constantly busy with her job, while treating us like we were guest in her home. As we visited, other employees would come in and she would tell them who we were and what we were doing.
One of the employees, Neal, went outside and got a package of hand warmers for us and told stories of the great north.
Finally the road beckoned once more. Alaska was calling. Our new friend Linda bid us a safe trip and waved us goodbye. We hated to leave our shelter and go back into the cold. It was 3.5 degrees Celcius when we arrived at her office, but the temp had risen to a blistering 4 degrees by the time we got up to leave. Brrr.
We stayed on the road for another hour or so, then cold and wet, we finally called it a day after only 196 miles in the town of Dawson Creek. The beginning of the Alaskan Highway.
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