It’s axiomatic, almost a universal law.
This June I was with Mike and Larry, on the third Three Amigos tour. We’d camped at the Provincial Campground near Kinuseo Falls, which is over 40 km past Tumbler Ridge on a bad gravel road. We were getting gas at one of the few places in Chetwynd where you can do that, on our way to Pine Pass and Crooked River Provincial Park an hour out of Prince George.
Parked on the other side of the pumps when we drove up was an absolutely pristine red VW Eurovan Westphalia. When it’s owner emerged, I asked the year: a 2002. (I believe that’s either the last or the penultimate year they were imported.)
However, when I admired his vehicle, the owner, a gentleman about my own age with an accent more obviously European than my own, pronounced himself more than a little annoyed. It was parked there because he couldn’t get it started. He was pretty sure it was something electrical, but couldn’t get anyone who knew anything to look at it.
I couldn’t do anything but commiserate, because I know the nearest VW garage to Chetwynd is in High Prairie, Alberta...
And I was very pleased it wasn’t my van, because that would have been more than a little awkward.
It’s also one of the things you accept as a VW camper van owner, until you don't. We got rid of our much-loved Vanagon Westy after it had broken down for the third time in one trip, just outside of Vancouver, Washington.
Of course, before that we’d been as far afield as Yellowknife, NWT and Austin, Texas without incident...
Which is why, after we limped the Vanagon back to Victoria, we promptly bought our present Eurovan, which is a gem, and has given us and the people we have lent it to almost no trouble.
But this weekend it added Idaho to Washington and Oregon, the states in which we’ve broken down:
This saga started in Washington State, just outside of Clarkson. Sandy had mistakenly navigated us down the Washington side of the Snake River, and had just noticed our destination, the Hell's Gate State Park on the other side, when the alternator light came on. Or maybe I just hadn't noticed it before.
Anyway, suffering from considerable psychological tension, as we were retracing our route to get to Lewiston, on the Idaho side (get it? Lewis & Clark?) I remembered that the last time the van had done this, now several years ago, I'd freaked out, only to find out, once the van was safely in the care of Sunwest VW, that the light was on due to a loose connection.
Anyway, we got to the campsite without incident, met Enid and Isaac there, and had a fine time camping by the lovely Snake River and drinking Washington wine and Oregon beer.
Next morning we set off. The alternator light came on, then went off (thus cementing my belief in the loose connection) and didn't come on again until we had nearly achieved the summit overlooking the confluence of the Snake and the Clearwater, including the two communities.
I took the necessary photos, and we proceeded on to Moscow, then past it. No issues.
Enid and Isaac had just passed us for the second time when the engine started to sputter, and within a quarter mile it had just stopped entirely.
Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to pull off, and also fortunately, San's phone could get service. (Enid's, which was charging in our care, couldn't) So she phoned the AAA.
They were extremely helpful, and two hours later we were in a large truck, the van secured to the deck on the back, on our way to Coeur d'Alene.
By that time we were back in contact with Isaac, and they picked us up at the garage. Mechanics in Idaho don't work on Saturday so Enid found a room for 4 at Bennett Bay Inn on beautiful Lake Coeur d'Alene. Where we ended the day drinking Washington wine and Idaho beer around the firepit, of course.
Because Enid and Isaac have a car, we spent Sunday on Mount Spokane with its 360 degree views (all the way to Canada!) so our weekend tourist needs were well satisfied.
On Monday the technician diagnosed the problem: a dead battery, alternator kaput, and possibly a frayed timing belt as well. The parts were available in Spokane.
They would arrive next day.
So we found ourselves enjoying the “corporate rate” at the Best Western, which is hardly traumatic, although living there does expose one to the less-touristy (hence considerably less lovely) scenery of Coeur d’Alene’s outskirts.
And very pleased to have both a BCAA membership and a cell phone that works in the US!
PostScript:
You know the very best thing about our experience this time? It's the fact that not one person has expressed dismay at being asked to work on a VW van, never mind the, "Sorry; we don't work on those" we heard several times when our Vanagon broke!
