Desert City Downpour

Location: Duffy’s Pub, Kamloops, Canada
Miles: ????

Drove back through Prince George (it looked like all the alternate roads were unpaved), stopping there for breakfast. There was a newsletter at the front counter that looked similar to the one I had read in Mcbride, so I picked it up. It was the first issue ever and, alas, the quality of the writing was really poor. The publisher did seem sincere about supporting the rural communities around Prince George, though, so good luck to them. The standards will probably improve with practice. That’s what I hope happens for me, at any rate.

On the way out of town I stopped off for a brief visit at the fairly lame farmer’s market, then drove up the highway I had first come into town on. Now that I wasn’t going to Alaska, I reminded myself to slow down and take advantage of photo ops, like I had earlier in the trip. “Get out of the car, Jerry,” I reminded myself often. It helped. “Stop the narrator in your head, writing about things as you see them,” is tougher. I’ll start with getting out of the car.

I took some pictures, but I’m starting to feel limited by my little camera. It’s a good camera for what it is, but I wish I had multiple lenses now. And the colors see washed out to me. I’m starting to experiment with adjusting the white balance (or something like that) to see if the colors are more vivid. Anyone know what other adjustments I should look at? I also want more pixels, but then don’t we all? What would be cool is a camera that hooks up to the computer while shooting to use the computer monitor as a super high resolution viewscreen. Not always practical, but when feasible it would be really nice.

Passed 50,000 miles on the cars odometer, passed 5,000 miles on the trip staring at the ass of a lumbering truck, and at 50140 miles my road trip was 5014, 10% of the total miles on my car.

Went through some more pretty country, then at Cache Creek things abruptly turned arid. I cruised into kamloops hoping to perhaps find a cheap place with Internet. I had passed a couple up north earlier in the day, so I had hope for the relatively large town. I didn’t look that hard for high-speed, though; I was willing to settle for working dialup.

The pimple-faced kid working the desk of the hotel where I stayed recommended a bar called Duffy’s, a short walk from the hotel. You know you’re in the boonies when you meet a pimple-faced kid who doesn’t know crap about computers, but his bar recommendation was a good one. Here I sit at Duffy’s now, sipping a good Pale Ale which purely by chance is on special tonight, watching the driving rain outside. (“Desert City my ass,” I told the waitress. “We need the rain,” she said.) I can’t take my laptop home in this weather. Looks like I’m stuck here until the rain lets up. Curses!

I think I scared the waitress. She asked me, “You want another beer, honey?” and we had gotten accustomed to each other, so I said, “Certainly, Dear.” I think I put more growl into the “dear” than I intended. It was a while before she came back and after that she called me “guy.”

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