Our family is paying close attention to what’s happening in Fort McMurray since brother Ian and his family have called Canada’s oil boom capital home for about a decade. Rosamond posted a message on Facebook saying she and Matthew headed south to their former hometown of Athabasca after the evacuation order was issued and is officially safe. They couldn’t, however, find a hotel room there. Ian was OK at Suncor north of town while Daniel is still in Vancouver after finishing his second year of engineering at UBC and is staying in my condo.

The trials, tribulations and triumphs of The 7Cs is trivial in comparison to the possibility of a family losing a home. Nonetheless here is the latest instalment of caravan news.

After chugging up to the Coquihalla Summit on what will likely be the hardest hill of the trip and a ton more inclines into Merritt on Sunday I was a happy camper.

Or so I thought.

Turned out I was figuratively a happy camper because literally I am not a happy camper.

I haven’t camped in about 4 1/2 decades. In those days I let Daddy to it all, even though it wasn’t his favourite activity either. I’ve relied on my nephew to show me the way around a campground. Although he’s way less than half my age, he’s an experienced camper. And a happy one too. He’s told me to “squeeze this, squeeze that; strap this, strap that; push this, push that.”

He knows what he’s doing. I don’t. Extricating myself out of small tent a few times a night to do you-know-what can be arduous with old bones like mine. Sleeping on a blow-up air mattress doesn’t help either.

We went to sleep the other night in Merritt with the ‘Ribbit-Ribbit’ refrain from the Bullfrog Chorus going strong. An all night plant, a nearby road and a swollen Coldwater River raging right beside us provided the backup sounds.

Eventually sleep comes. Reluctantly. But the audio relief was brief. At daybreak chirping birds became the main act. Turns out Brody’s earplugs weren’t only utilized to tune out his uncle’s snoring.

I’m definitely the diva in this group having already taken my third motel room of the trip. I like my WiFi, queen-sized mattress and Continental breakfast. (I’m also the diva when it comes to bicycle mechanics, but that’s another story.)

Well, I have just three words for Grousing Grant: Deal with it!

While we’ll be visiting relatives en route and maybe indulge ourselves in a hotel room down the road on this once-in-a-lifetime trip, there is no doubt the most efficient and effective way to complete the journey is by camping. So I have to keep telling myself, “Quit complaining, and unpack the tent.”

Or conversely, “pack up the tent.” Which is what Brody and I did Tuesday morning. We made our way to the old No. 5 Highway for the ride up to Kamloops.

Leaving Merritt

Kamloops here we come

But on the edge of town we parted ways. Sort of. With his knee bothering him he decided he’d ride for a couple of hours and see how far it got him. Turned out it was about 40 kilometres where he set up camp.

All indications were the old route would be quieter, prettier and flatter than continuing on the crazy Coquihalla. Turned out it was even quieter, prettier and flatter than I thought. The first third of the trip around Nicola Lake was just gorgeous. Spectacular scenery. Vehicles bombed by occasionally and certainly at a lot less pace than the mad-rush on the rural freeway with its 120 km speed limit.

It was a pleasure to ride that route on such a sunny day and the time flew by as I did the 95 kilometre trip in a little over four hours. Meanwhile, to the north, Clive left Williams Lake for Day 1 for him so we can meet up in Little Fort on Wednesday. Clive, however, had to battle brutal head winds all the way from 150 Mile House to 100 Mile House. He travelled 96 kilometres from home in about six hours before setting up camp. His non-nature older brother, naturally, settled into a comfy hotel room bed.

• Tuesday: 95 km Total to date: 370 km

* Happy 86th Birthday Aunt Ruth