I spoke with Mom and Dad Friday night; they were at milepost 0 on the AlCan Highway; that's in Dawson Creek, British Columbia. Daddy gave the requisite wild-animal sightings which are quite impressive and included moose with calves, elk, lots of bears, stone sheep of all ilk, coyotes----in the middle of the road all of this.
Daddy also told a story that I hope I get right as I re-tell:
Either coming or going from Muncho Lake
in BC (which I've just googled, it is GORGEOUS blue from the cupric (that's ionic copper) oxide deposits in its basin), they passed through Toad, named for the Toad River. They had to stop for fuel having made a long, hard trip up steep grades on fumes of petrol in the gas tank. They stopped there. It is a small small place
The current population of Toad
is 75 and 25 are school aged children, K - 12, who all attend a very small town school led by *2* teachers. Kids arrive at school using the following conveyance: airplane, walking, boats, all terrain vehicles. The inside portion of the fuel station there was completely lined with baseball caps---7200 in all! I suppose these were all donated by passers-through but I didn't get the 411 on that.
Toad was established as nothing more than an encampment for AlCan Highway workers. Everyone who lives there is in some way associated with it. Toad, the town, and Toad, the river, came to be so named because in order to build the AlCan the river had to be forded---workers and equipment had to be "toad" across it. There you have it---Toad, BC, a living demonstration of Canadian superiority in homonym usage.
Mom and Dad were off to Edmonton, Calgary and Banff leaving Dawson Creek. They expected to be back in Idaho with their friends and take possession of whatever contraband they left there on August 4, the day before Mom's birthday. For her sake, I hope her birthday is spent in a bigger bed and includes a meal she doesn't cook on the RV stove and that her fingers and toes are pretty and pink.