St. Emilion OR How its Grand Cru wines whispered come hither to CrossCountry Bob

Well, let’s get it over with right at the start, the wines of St. Emilion are in a horse race with Cote de Rhône for the wine affections of CrossCountry Bob.  The tannins are easier than the Bordeaux greats and the taste is smooth enough to cause the bottle to drain at an alarming rate (that is not a negative).

A favourite:

A favourite – one of many

There. That particular sacrilege is done.  To those dismayed by CrossCountry Bob’s conversion on the “Road to St. Emilion”, he says, “Travel to St. Emilion, taste as he tasted and your dismay will vanish”.  

Putting wine aside (if that is even possible), what else does St. Emilion offer besides an abundance of French people thriving on the tourists.  Here it is the middle of October, shirt sleeve weather, and the medieval setting of St. Emilion is alive with “touristes de vin”.

Sitting ducks for the French who are predators armed with a smile and suave words.  Speaking of being preyed upon, CrossCountry Bob had duck in a run of the mill French restaurant and, sure enough, the duck itself was run of the mill.  Sometimes CrossCountry Bob never learns it seems or perhaps he prefers to hope for the best.  One lives longer as an optimist (he thinks).  Paintin’ Peggie had prawns but they arrived with the heads still on and she certainly didn’t like that.  The 5 euro bottle of water (high level predation) served with a flourish (bottle top off and water poured before CrossCountry Bob could remember the French words for “no thanks” – in other words a few nanoseconds – those French waiters are no slouches when there are euros to be plucked)…where was I…yes, that water turned out to be a blessing. CrossCountry Bob discovered the next day that very water is available as a six pack of one liter bottles for 4 euros in the supermarche (supermarket) and is a smooth tasting still water that CrossCountry Bob has made his go to water (at least while in France).

French water is better if you ask anyone in France

CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie are staying in the heart of St. Emilion and can walk the town from there.  And it is quite the medieval village, more interesting than the somewhat humdrum city of Bordeaux.

Outside what little remains of the medieval town walls, the countryside is smothered in every direction with regimented vineyards guarded by Chateaux so numerous than even the locals could not possibly have tried the wine from each,

Perfect country for Paintin’ Peggie to create a few spectacular canvases that never cease to amaze CrossCountry Bob who has trouble holding a brush correctly, let alone actually using it.

Artist at work

The nearby town of Libourne has a wonderful Sunday market. Perfect for cafe aux lait with croissant (CrossCountry Bob) and almond pastry (Paintin’ Peggie), and then checking out the French shoppers and picking up a few fresh items for dinner.

That is right.  No French dinner for the fattening duo tonight.  Instead, they crave a big salad with fresh strawberries, a large baguette and a trio of brie, camembert and blue cheese. And, of course, a St. Emilion Grand Cru (Chateau Bernateau) to savor with no quantity guardrails (except the common sense arising from being of a sufficient age to realize that even the best St. Emilion wine requires moderation if one intends to be functional the following morning).

Touring through the vineyards was pleasant in the warm weather. CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie stopped to explore an intriguing Chateau that had nobody about (it seemed).

Then CrossCountry Bob approached a warehouse door to check out a portable windblower and an alarm started up. Uh oh! Must have been a motion dectector by the door in case of wine thieves (thinks CrossCountry Bob). At that point, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie made a smooth (and rapid) exit up the driveway to their rental car parked on the road. In the car and away…no one in pursuit. Okay, then. That was different.

And so ends the time of St. Emilion. See you at the next stop, a two hour drive east to Sarlat de Caneda, the heart of the Dordogne region and the home of foie gras and a landscape littered with castles from the Hundred Years War between the French and the English.  It was only after that war that the French had time to really become expert at winemaking.  And what did the English eventually do with time on their hands?  You might have heard of the British Empire.  But to the French that is no match for their opinion of themselves and their wine.  After all, CrossCountry Bob can still drink St. Emilion Grand Cru but he can’t find the British Empire no matter how long he searches.  One day CrossCountry Bob will return to England to explore all that, but that day is for later.  Today, CrossCountry Bob is in the embrace of France – liberte, egalite, fraternite – and much wine fit for a king (that would be CrossCountry Bob in his dreams) and also fit for a queen (that would be Paintin’ Peggie.)  

Back in the Travel Saddle – repost

There are a limited number of direct flights to Europe from Vancouver but one of those is Air France direct to Paris.  Back in September, CrossCountry Bob scooped two tickets, departing October 12 and returning November 20.  And with that, the trip was a go.

On October 12, YVR was not crowded and! CrossCountry Bob was feeling blessed at that point. Hence the smiles you see below…

After settling in at the departure gate, CrossCountry Bob started with what were once familiar tasks…passports, check, wallet, check, credit cards, check, charge cord for iPhone, check, charge cord for extra battery – oops.  Well, the smooth oiled travel machine lodged in CrossCountry Bob’s brain was clearly running rough due to lack of use and Covid cobwebs.  This trip will fix that (he hopes).

The actual planning details of the trip are a state secret not to be disbursed at this time to you, dear reader, but will be leaked out gradually as the trip progresses (sorry for the secrecy (not really) but CrossCountry Bob likes to imitate those in charge as that makes him feel somewhat important.

In any event, it was a smooth flight but then a three! hour wait for the train from Paris to Bordeaux (CrossCountry Bob has come to notice that whenever he leaves a large time buffer, the plane leaves on time and arrives early).  One thing the French have right (aside from no mask mandates anymore) is their high-speed trains.  CrossCountry Bob is a big fan (please note that CrossCountry Bob does not hesitate to extend credit to those in charge when they (rarely) do something smart).

But then, high-speed trains aside, reality intruded once again and reminded CrossCountry Bob that not only is he not in charge of anything, the French are clearly not either – as evidenced by (gotta laugh): NO GASOLINE!  Said more succintly: not a good time to rent a car in France.

Which is exactly what CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie are doing today.  In a panic, CrossCountry Bob quickly double checked that the wine makers were not also on strike and that the supply of Bordeaux wines would not suffer.  With an affirmative on that crucial aspect, the trip, not mortally wounded, will continue. Paintin’ Peggie noted that CrossContry Bob had a faint smile when he observed that the French strike about a lot of things but never about their wine.  Gasoline might be essential but wine was important (see how CrossCountry Bob is starting to understanding how those in charge think).

More to follow… meanwhile here is the Bordeaux train station viewed from our hotel window which is a converted stone mansion of some indeterminate age.

Au revoir. Time for breakfast. Most likely cafe au lait and croissants.

UTAH (or, High & Dry)

CrossCountry Bob knew that Utah was high.  Winnie found out the hard way, guzzling gas as she climbed this pass towards 9,600 feet…

As for dry, Utah was more than one kind of dry…

Desert dry

The other kind of dry caught CrossCountry Bob by surprise.  Turns out that Utah is the driest state in America – you want a bottle of gin to replenish supplies before venturing into the backcountry? – too bad, Mr. CrossCountry Bob with your not so bright assumptions; (but in his defence, CrossCountry Bob couldn’t have imagined a place (even a place thick with Mormons) that was so much like the days of WAC Bennett in British Columbia (say 1970 or so) when liquor was only sold in government liquor stores and cash only (WAC didn’t want anyone getting drunk on credit).  But, yes, in spite of that history lesson, Utah had stepped right up to the plate and knocked it out of the park with its “State Liquor Stores” and in smaller towns, “Package Agencies”, the relevant one of which CrossCountry Bob found was open noon to 6 pm, closed weekends

The sad result of all these control issues was that Winnie was forced to venture into National Park wilderness without the sustaining power of end-of-day gin and tonic.  A gruelling proposition to be sure, but CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie were determined.  After all, there were scenic treats as consolation…

And so, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie managed without, and even thrived, with high trail desert hikes providing an endless supply of often stark beauty and, even though the weather was chilly, the cold beer (left over from hot Valley of Fire) provided a reasonable end of day substitute.  Not a perfect trade-off, but workable.  And the hiking was interesting after the parking lot…

Utah might limit gin access but the supply of natural beauty was unlimited. And not just the National Parks.  The Escalante region for example…

There were also high end state parks that CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie explored (cleverly, early in the season before the crowds but maybe not so cleverly, as winter’s bite was still active).  At Coral Pink Sands State Park that bite was a swift wind over the dunes but your intrepid duo climbed the dunes anyway…

By now, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie had (thought CrossCountry Bob) developed a substantial immunity to cold and wind, so Bryce Canyon National Park was next up at an elevation of over 8,000 feet.  The campground in the Park wasn’t full (Clue one) and part of the campground was closed due to snow cover (Clue two).  But, paying full attention to those clues, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie donned long underwear, gloves and toques before hopping onto the mountain bikes to “feel” Bryce and allow its rocks to show off their true nature…

Next up was Kodachrome Basin State Park which was a lower elevation than Bryce.  Lots of optimism by CrossCountry Bob was not misplaced as there was enough warmth for CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie to mountain bike over some miles of great trails, ending on a ridge that someone aptly named Panorama Point…

What a day!  Loving this, CrossCountry Bob was pleased that Paintin’ Peggie had wanted a four day stay here to have a patch of down time and paint.  Kodachrome didn’t really care about those plans and the next day provided a generous helping of wind blow snow to complement the multi-hued rocks (and remind CrossCountry Bob of who really runs the show in Kodachrome)…

And once again, Winnie proved herself the core of the campaign.  Warm and snug inside, Paintin’ Peggie got a lot of painting done (and CrossCountry Bob wasn’t idle, writing part of the time and reading part of the time, and wondering part of the time whether an undiscovered side effect of omicron was temporary insanity randomly dispersed across the globe with special concentrations in government). 

CrossCountry Bob could pause here and reflect on what happened to seventy years of relative peace in Europe but that brings on concern, sadness and a sense of disbelief.  A descent into old ways with sociopathic authoritarians creeping out from under their rocks.

So, for the moment, CrossCountry Bob dropped back into the Utah landscape and its sandstone brilliance…

And arches…

Hiking through this land was a pleasure of discovery (and by the way, for those of you surprised at CrossCountry Bob hiking, that was a surprise to CrossCountry Bob as well).  In his defence, CrossCountry Bob points out that every climbing trail in the Parks yields vistas and landforms and constant reminders of how temporary each of us are.

The land is too dry for a British Columbia type forest and so, as Paintin’ Peggie notes, this is different than hiking in the forest where all you see is trees).  And a bonus, no bears to worry about and too early and cold for rattlesnakes and scorpions.  Happy days for CrossCountry Bob who last hiked through forests way back (as in long, long ago) during his brief tenure as a forestry student (no laughter or sarcastic emails please).

The final National Park for CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie, Zion National Park, had Winnie retracing our steps after we managed to snag three nights of a very hard to come by camping site.

First glimpse of Zion coming in through the eastern tunnel…

Tunnel built in the 1930’s. Winnie had to drive down the middle to fit!

Zion was a lower elevation than Bryce or Arches and the season was already underway with people swirling like ants about a honeypot.  But a cure for that was onto the mountain bikes and cycling up the road where cars were not permitted. And this is what we saw…

Still, starting early in the day, there were a minimum number of talkers (perhaps they need extra sleep to restore vocal cords energy?) and CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie were able to hike in relative peace up the famous Angel’s Landing route which quickly turned into a candidate for best hike of the trip, tied overall with Valley of Fire (which was Paintin’ Peggie’s top choice).

What was left after Zion?    By then, Winnie was like a horse that smells home – no matter how much you work the reins to delay the inevitable, home is where you are going.  And Spring was creeping closer up north with CrossCountry Bob tiring of American news and looking forward to simpler things such as figuring out “what is the agenda of that guy Trudeau anyway??”.  But first, a Costco stop for some of the best priced wine in America and, of course, a final clip of Americana…

First item inside Costco

And with that, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie are ready to leave America, a unique and beautiful land, vibrant and flawed like any, a mixture perhaps like no other. It is where CrossCountry Bob would go if there were no Canada.

Canadian essence

This won’t be the last time CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie go to America.  But with omicron backing off, other places beckon (and other places don’t).  The world is pushing an increased sense of urgency into CrossCountry Bob now.  Don’t wait it whispers, “I promise you nothing if you wait”.

Wishing everyone well…

Goodby, America and Hello Canada!

Las Vegas in two Acts

With Paintin’ Peggie finished with her plein air painting course in Tucson (a fine time was had), the time had arrived to point Winnie north towards Las Vegas.  CrossCountry Bob picked a route through Quartzsite, then north to Parker, Lake Havesu and on to Las Vegas.  Sounded like a plan (to him, yes, but not so much to Paintin’ Peggie).  Turned out to be a less than perfect plan. Quartzsite was flat, bleak desert festooned with off road vehicles, wind and dust and to top it off, it was Presidents Day weekend. Yikes! 

A shade north of Quartzsite is one of the largest BLM boondocking sites in America (BLM stands for Bureau of Land Management).  Cross Country Bob saw an abundance of home town Americana around Quartzsite, worth checking out (he thought) but Paintin’ Peggie said please no (a clue perhaps to where the tastes of Paintin’ Peggie aren’t), and so Winnie passed on by…

North of the Quartzsite off road vehicle metropolis – sweet, empty desert

Although CrossCountry Bob missed taking pictures of specific Quartzsite Americana, he rose to the challenge and located some quality substitutes…

By the time Quartzsite receded in Winnie’s sideview mirrors, the sun was sinking lower than CrossCountry Bob liked and it was now “find a spot very soon for the night” time – something that was not always easy with RVs littered across the southwest, filling most RV parks and campgrounds like sardines in a tin.  The next town on the road was Parker which had thosel sardine RV resorts – not an option for this picky duo.  But to the rescue, on the outskirts of Parker there was a Reservation and in this area that meant (surprise) – a Casino – and this particular Casino had a big parking lot with lots of RVs stopping over.  Turns out casinos have other uses than vacuuming up money. Winnie stayed over, not quality camping for sure but okay for a night and better than rumbling diesels in the truck stops that Paintin’ Peggie preferred to avoid.

From Parker to the Parker Dam is a 30 kilometre strip of the Colorado River thick with mobile home parks, RV Parks, strange looking aluminum park models, each with a big garage area for the toys (boats, skidoos and ATVs). 

One of many in every corner of this strip of river

Using a favourite CrossCountry Bob expression, “we came, we saw, we went” (excepting a pleasant stopover at a BLM campsite along the less populated side of the river with some wild burros that somehow survive both the desert and the torrents of sun-seeking snowbirds)…

Next up was Lake Havesu City which Paintin’ Peggie indicated was not an improvement (unless you like RV lots, golf carts and gun stores)

Moving on north from the limited pleasures (warm weather) of Lake Havesu City, the weather turned C.O.L.D.  Canada was apparently sending down a reminder that winter still had a bite.  CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie had that reminder pounded home while camped in Golden Valley south of Las Vegas as nasty, swirling winds rattled and rocked Winnie for hours then (just in case more ha ha! was required) delivered a snow shower in the morning chill (this is Vegas country, remember?).

snow in Golden Valley 1 hour from Las Vegas

By now, you might be thinking that CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie were hankering for a slice of city life and yes, that was the situation.  A snowbird refuge – Las Vegas RV Resort – well run, clean and rows of RVs, but with all the hookups and only an Uber ride from the Vegas Strip.  RV resort living (good for a few days but all winter? remarks Paintin’ Peggie with a slight shake of her head) and then she was off, CrossCountry Bob in tow, not for the casinos but for the budding Las Vegas Arts District north of the Strip.  A low rise area of old industrial transitioning into a curious mix of art and offbeat retail.

A Bonus (this is Vegas after all), after some hours of walk about and browsing a few eclectic stores – there was a rustic little restaurant serving tender, high flavour BBQ brisket that CrossCountry Bob savoured to the point of overdose.  Best in the American southwest so far was the satiated conclusion of CrossCountry Bob. Oh, and there was the cake shop (spotted by Paintin’ Peggie) where she lasered in on a luscious slice of birthday cake. Happy Birthday to Paintin’ Peggie!

The charms of chocolate

After a fine day in the Art District, there were a couple of days of painting on the agenda for Paintin’ Peggie while CrossCountry Bob, with his own serious agenda, booked an Uber to the casinos to meet good friend, Dave Marshall, who flew down from Kelowna to see Metallica (believe it!) and partake (with CrossCountry Bob) of a healthy dose of poker action.

Not Las Vegas without a bit of poker action – Dave had no mercy on those Vegas players.

Aside from the poker, the concert idea took root and the next night CrossCountry Bob, Paintin’ Peggie and Dave were in Allegiant Stadium to see Billy Joel.  Now that man (age 72!) knows how to put on a concert!  Grade A+ which more than made up for the traffic jam on the way to the concert stadium during which CrossCountry Bob’s kidneys went on a rampage, leaving CrossCountry Bob feeling as if the only thing that existed in the world at that moment was his bladder (you all know the feeling).  Made it to a porta potti outside the Stadium – just,oh just – and do you know how wonderful the inside of a porta pottie can feel?  Grand! But that was a side issue for the night as Billy Joel and his band took to the stage…

Billy Joel in action

And after over 2 hours of memory lane with Billy Joel…

Outside Allegiant Stadium after Billy Joel concert

End of Act I.


There is another side of Las Vegas.  Eighty kilometres east is the Valley of Fire.  No slot machines inhabit this landscape.

Time to explore the timeless with Winnie settled into a Valley of Fire campsite

Winnie in Valley of Fire campsite

But first, a bighorn sheep checking us out…

A fine specimen!

Act II continued with hiking  through glorious terrain…

Paintin’ Peggie was loving it, popping up all over…

And the rippled rock that CrossCountry Bob called the ice cream rock which Paintin’ Peggie just had to climb..

Oh, and the temperature was plenty warm; by the time the kilometres of hiking were finished CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie were quite happy to rest in the shade. That Vegas sun can be mean if you don’t pay attention. Lots of water. Hats and sunglasses mandatory. CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie pay attention to the rules (sometimes).

End of Act II.  It existed before Act I and CrossCountry Bob figures it will still exist long after Act I is done.

From Tubac to the O.K. Corral

A key part of this little southern adventure is to observe and experience Art (CrossCountry Bob not being an art expert, tends to find his Art by trotting along behind Paintin’ Peggie).  And Paintin’ Peggie found Tubac and so, no surprise whatsoever, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie left cold Sedona and arrived in Tubac, Arizona, an artistic community 70 kilometres south of Tucson.  Paintin’ Peggie’s timing was impeccable with an art festival underway with more than 100 artists and artisans marketing their wares, much of it of admirable quality.

One thing CrossCountry Bob noticed is that the Americans were more likely than Canadians to part with their dollars for quality art.  This might be a function (speculated CrossCountry Bob) of the fact that most of the festival attendees were retired boomers with money (in most of the campgrounds Winnie has visited down south, she was the small Chevy among the Caddies).

But there is one thing Americans are much less inclined to part with and that would be their Bill of Rights.  It used to be not so long ago that Canadians would turn their gaze south and ponder whether the troubles in America perhaps stemmed in part from an over zealous love of free speech and guns for everyone.  This American view of how it should be was always different than Canada’s “peace, order and good government”.  But, while Canadians seemed content with their self-satisfaction over the years, something strange and alien was seeping under the back door, spreading like an Omnicron, replacing Canadian niceness with a blanket intolerance.  This alien fog spread over the entire spectrum, from left to right, moderate to extreme, and like the Omnicron, is not the least bit fussy about who it infects.  Suddenly, if you don’t agree with “the view”, you are on the outside looking in, an enemy of the entrenched elite (you know, those who know whats best for you and won’t hesitate to tell you so).  Is this how Canadian democracy will come to die, in a wilderness of petty virtue signaling and intolerance?

From down south, CrossCountry Bob watches the once abundant polite Canadian becoming rarer by the day.  Even the Americans have noticed (and it takes a lot (a lot!) for Americans to even remember that Canada exists, let alone be interested).  When CrossCountry Bob left Canada on January 9 part of his blogging plan was to write about democracy in America.  But in an ironic twist, it is Canadian democracy on the table.  Maybe the Americans will send us their inventory of these for deployment in Ottawa and wherever the locals become restless…

Meanwhile, back to Tubac, for there is abundant life not to be smothered.  There is creativity and beautiful art, far away from the twittering crowd.

But was there a dark side to Tubac?  After some hours of the festival, the image of a cold beer would not leave CrossCountry Bob’s thoughts.  And with that cold bottle of beer at Tubac Jack’s Saloon, why not some nachos in Tex-Mex land?  Turns out the beer was cold but the nachos would certainly be nominated by CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie as the “worst ever”.

Ahh, a lukewarm cheese sauce (not cheese!)

And where was Winnie during this time of great art and bad nachos?  Well, after the first night in a dump that impersonated an RV campground, Winnie settled into a pleasant boondocking site about 5 km north of Tubac (boondocking – the art of camping for free on federal lands).  The price, of course, was unbeatable and the desertscape could not be priced, especially in the early morning light or an approaching sunset.

As a side note to dawn and dusk, one thing Paintin’ Peggie has taught CrossCountry Bob is how certain light best enhances nature and as a result CrossCountry Bob’s appreciation of natural beauty is way up.  Bonus points to Paintin’ Peggie!

Tubac had one other feature that CrossCountry Bob was particularly fond of and that was sunny, warm weather (shorts and short sleeves to be specific).  After cold Sedona, a pleasure. Biking into the hills consumed parts of several days, exploring the desertscape and waving at the frequent present border patrols.

But even the warmth could not hold Winnie for too long and after some days of Tubac’s art and always fascinating Americana, Winnie was becoming restless.

With Tubac in the rearview mirror, Paintin’ Peggie turned her attention to bakeries. You may recall that Paintin’ Peggie has a keen eye for a bakery and in the town of Patagonia (population 972) she found a winner. 

For the record, it has been noted at times that Paintin’ Peggie in a Patagonia bakery is an amazing replica of CrossCountry Bob in a wine shop.  She knows what she likes (he knows what he likes), she buys what she likes (he buys what he likes ), she eats it (he drinks it).  All an integral part of the cycle of life of Winnie in America.

Once the baked goods inventory was reduced to the satisfaction of Paintin’ Peggie and CrossCountry Bob, it was on to Karchner Caverns State Park.  No actual caverns for CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie (dark, damp, batty, and crawling with Americans with smart phones) but it was a nice spot for Paintin’ Peggie to be inspired for plein air painting.  And it was also a nice spot for Paintin’ Peggie to lead CrossCountry Bob off the grid (again!) on a trail supposedly okay for mountain bikes but not…

Paintin Peggie, it has to be said, has this endearing propensity of not quitting something once started, and when it involves mountain bikes and trails, well, it has to become a mountain goat trail before Paintin’ Peggie yields.

To CrossCountry Bob’s relief, the climbing trail eventually became impassable to mountain bikes and it was turn around and back down; a careful descent into the growing dusk which of course hid the rock that ambushed the front tire of CrossCountry Bob’s bike.  Down went CrossCountry Bob (hating that moment when he realized there was no recovery and there was nothing to be done but brace for landing).  CrossCountry Bob did brace and missed the plentiful cactus spines by a fraction.  The just as plentiful rocks made up for that narrow escape by providing a hard hello to his left palm and a smack to the left knee. Nothing severe as it turned out, but CrossCountry Bob’s knee was not happy.

The next day, heading out for a “short” hike, Paintin’ Peggie says, “Why are you limping?”  Eyes askance by CrossCountry Bob was sufficient answer.  That knee kept Paintin’ Peggie waiting on the hike from time to time as CrossCountry Bob was being careful not to turn tender knee into trouble knee. 

The plein air course in Tucson that Paintin’ Peggie had signed up for was now on the time horizon and a few days in busy Catalina State Park near the course location seemed just the ticket.  But camping sites were scarce and then, Miracle!, a few sites were suddenly available and Paintin’ Peggie snagged one of the sites online.  Arrival turned that miracle to dust as the extra “sites” turned out to be a group gravel site converted to cozy RV slots complete, as it turned out , with droning generators and free radio music from Winnie’s neighbour.

Peggie took a picture of it all from the hill behind and called it the O.K. Corral; our version of nearby Tombstone thought CrossCountry Bob except there would be no Wyatt Earp showdown for Winnie (maybe wise since there were no guns in Winnie but there certainly were in a few of the American RVs as a casual conversation with a camper or two revealed to CrossCountry Bob).

And now, for those of you who persevered through this blog and CrossCountry Bob’s diversion into the state of Canadian democracy, a few photos of Winnie’s continuing escapades…