First proper day off in a while - by proper I mean day in which I can go off and about my own errands. Up early, coffee, wait for the sunrise, but the sun isn't rising, it's obscured by smoke, not a glimmer even, merely a uniform grey haze...
I set off...Nelson, write a couple of postcards, then to Salmo, the smoke, so thick you can smell it, everywhere the campfire smell, stop in Salmo, Firefly cafe, filled with refugees abandoning their vacations, I get a text from work, their hours are changing, business, these last few days, has driven over a cliff, and driving over the pass you can see - or not see - why....
Firecrews with their hoses and tubs of water set up on the shoulder, the road vanishing into the distance...
Up logging roads, I run into a couple of conservation officers, sidearms, kevlar vests, WTF? If ever there was anywhere that should be safe from police you'd think this was it...I was wrong.
Check a few places, but it's not a hot day for it, and everywhere there are hornets, buzzing, not as the drone of a single one, but as a hive, hundreds, swarming you, crawling up your sleeves, this is a dismal day...
The sun, out, barely, and disappearing, and out, and disappearing...
Then, finally, towards, Creston, then back towards the ferry. 9:00 PM, following a logging truck up the 3A, maybe 20 KM past Wynndel, the taillights blink around a corner, following them around I run into an impenetrable cloud of dust, brake, smoke, BAM!...
Getting out, the jeep at a standstill, dust still settling, logs all over the road, one through my passenger window, crushed my roof, looking for a sign of the truck off the road, did it overturn? Then, through the dust, the lights of the logging truck disappearing around another bend, back into my jeep, still runs, following it, blinking my headlights, trying to get his attention, about 6 KM up the road he finally pulls over, he's 2 trailers, the back one has tipped, lost it's load, completely...
He gets out, I show him my jeep, point to the rear trailer, it's sitting all off kilter, he doesn't get it, thought he blew a tire...
It's toast. I get his details, drive up to the Ferry, make the last one, get more than a few looks from the crew when boarding...
The alternative, wait for the police, tow to Creston, unload jeep, spend the night, source out a ride back towards Balfour, there's no alternative, now to deal with ICBC and see how they cover this, no sooner than I rave about something good - my 'ole jeep, than the Gods punish my attachment, the bumper, the hood, the roof and windshield, all crushed, but god-damn, the thing still runs, and if I could just punch out the windscreen I'd keep it as is but cops are cops and this is the proof, the last of signs telling me these are the end of days...