September 19, 1984 Wednesday
And I'm glad I because the lake was beautiful. As the sun moved lower the reflections on the water deepened from lavender into purple. A bright Manitoba maple reflecting orange heightened contrast. Of course, I didn't take my binoculars. The lake still held bird life – a plover with one neck band and a wader all light gray with black wing tips and a black stripe through her eye. Also (I think) a Bittern flew past me. (A bird that sounded exactly like a hand water-pump.) I stood by the lake for a while until I got too hungry to enjoy the stillness. I had a good supper while I wote working on my short story. So far I find it easy. Why? I have never written s.s. before. I can imagine that exercise becoming more difficult the more I try to do. I also have a poem in mind describing this country – using colours as an analogy to a symphony – now that would be difficult!
This morning I looked out my window and when I saw clear blue I leapt about my room a few times in joy. I knew the universe wouldn't disappoint me. (Mind you, I also know a bit about the weather. The front yesterday was only for a day – that was easy to conclude.) Onward –
Almac Motel Receipt
Well! I should have known better not to have had two weak coffees (with Coffee-Mate – UGH!) in Hylo. Instead Caslan gave me two wonderful coffees with real cream (Ahhh).
The wind is against me so I am making slow time. And I arrived in Boyle about 5:30PM. So I have been on the road all day. I didn't think I would be, but with the wind behind me ... and I stopped an hour in Hylo and an hour in Caslan. I also stopped many times to snap the scenery. One spot was particularly captivating – the kind of scene that inspires me to paint. So I took many photographs. The colours!
The road from Lac la Biche to Boyle was one of those Alberta gems: isolated, peaceful, winding, marvelous. I came at just the right time of the year: the colours, the colours – dazzling.
Saw a Red Tail.
The ride into Boyle was marvelous. The approach was into a wide, wide valley. I could see the high country I had rode on yesterday to my right. Into the distance (West) the ridge of the valley heading to Athabasca. I remember coming into Boyle many years ago, and I remember flat. What a joy to see it from the East approach! Beauty, mystery, as far as the eye can see. From Boyle ,i.e. walking the main street, the place is flat.
Fifteen dollars to stay the night – and I can take my bike with me. Unlike Athabasca, where I paid eighteen for the same and the owner was adamant about me not taking my bike up because it was "against the law" and saying that "next thing you know, people will be wanting to take their cars up". The owner in Evansburg said the same thing. Only he was more reasonable, and worried about motorcycles. Athabasca and Evansburg are the only towns to ever give me opposition in that way. Westlock was the only town to even offer me a room away from the bar ("You'll want peace and quiet", he said); the rest of them put me right on top.
So tomorrow is my last travelling day. Can anything be more wonderful than the marvelous weather that is always given to me?

Piping Plover Bitternk Red-Tailed Hawk