"The fish are biting at Tunkwa, let’s go!" We pack up the van, hook up the boat and hit the road.

It’s always so exciting when we leave home full of great expectations. How many fish will we catch; who will catch the most; do we have sun tan lotion and our bathing suits; will our new outdoor room keep out the mosquitoes and fleas? Will the campsite be crowded; have we packed enough food and water? We anticipate that every second meal will be succulent trout, pan-fried in butter, with a touch of garlic. Ah, fishing - such a relaxing hobby.

Half-way up the Coquihalla Highway, my husband, Jan, turns to me, puzzled. "Do you hear a train?" he questions. I roll down the window. I’m a little nervous; there’s no train. but this is an avalanche zone.

"The boat trailer seems to be bouncing around a lot, let’s pull over as soon as we can."

Thank goodness there’s a chain-up area nearby. We pull in and get out to check our rig. It begins to rain. We have a flat on the boat trailer and no spare. We work quickly in the wet. It’s not easy removing rusty bolts from the rim with the shredded tire. We’ll have to head back to Hope and get a new tire. One hour and $50 later we arrive back at the boat. We’re delighted that it’s still there. We change the tire quickly and head toward the toll booth, which is covered in dense fog. We give the lady $10 and tell her our woes. "Good thing you didn’t have to be towed," she says.

Heading into Merritt, our luck changes. The sun appears, the sky turns blue, and all the traffic disappears.

We pull into the gas station in Logan Lake where they sell fishing licenses. We had debated getting just one, but what the heck, if the fish are biting we’ll splurge and get two. The fee shocks us - $64 and change. If we were 65 it would only be $5. We can’t wait to be seniors.

Full of anticipation, we head up the dirt road to the Forestry Campsite. The road is all freshly graded, no more mud and no more potholes. There is a new sign at the entrance. Tunkwa is now a Provincial Campsite, $8 per night, running water and picnic tables. We are upset; this place functioned beautifully without any government intervention. We all kept it spotless, hauled in our own water and packed out our garbage. The poor woman who came to collect got an earful from us. We later apologized and she said she gets the same response from everyone that arrives.

We settle in by the lake, planning to launch the boat in the morning. We don’t know why, but we always sleep the sleep of the dead when we’re in the wilderness.

We awake to a snow storm! We check the calendar; isn’t this June? Trapped inside, we peer out the window all morning, watching the other campers pack up and leave. Wimps! We have plenty of food and water; we’ll sit it out. Out comes the crib board and the coffee pot. The tournament lasts until noon. By mid day the sky clears and the sun comes out. The weather changes so rapidly up here.

Quickly, we launch the boat and choose a new campsite. We have lots of choices. Out come the rods, tackle, the picnic lunch and the optimism. "Let’s go fishing!"

Two pulls on the Mercury is all we ever need. After fifty pulls, we give it up. We’ll have to row.

Rowing is awkward. The wind keeps coming and going. We gaze longingly at people with motors. It’s not long before we’re back on shore; the fish aren’t biting anyway. "Lets go inside where it’s warm and cozy." We spend the evening playing crib.

Morning is calm; "Let’s go!" We’re only out for half an hour when I feel a tug on my line. It’s a big trout. "How big?" my husband asks. "I don’t care; just get the net, we’ll talk later." I reel him in in an unprofessional manner, Jan nets him quickly and plops him into the boat. DINNER! This is what we came for. We fish all day and never get another bite.

The evening is glorious. Our new room works well and we find it not only keeps out the bugs but the wind as well. The Kokanee trout is moist and pink, covered with little slices of lemon; the barbecued potatoes are done with lots of onions, and we toss a crisp green salad to make it gourmet.

Morning finds a new weather pattern, gale force winds. I didn’t realize that a lake could churn up so quickly. We watch as two people in a canoe blow past us and then watch as they carry it home.

All manner of RVs and boats have arrived during the night for their annual company fishing derby. They never do go out; they huddle around their campfires trying to keep warm. The young family next to us packs up their tent and leaves. Their tent nearly blew away during the night, and their campstove wouldn’t light in the morning.

"Let’s go home," we say. It’s always so exciting packing up and going home. We can have a shower, use the telephone, flush the toilet and use the microwave.

We arrive at dinner time, unpack, eat, look at each other and say, "When do you want to leave again?"