Sunshine on the Silver Trail

We reached our fourteenth day of consecutive rain.  Our first evening on the Silver Trail, however, the sun finally broke through the heavy clouds.  We relished the blue skies and thought of our dear friends in Texas who have prayed for fourteen consecutive days of rain.  Oh, how we (and everyone that we speak with up here) would like to send this rain and cold to you all!

Concerned that we may be a bit early for full fall color on the Dempster, we decided to take a detour up the Silver Trail.  The road begins at Stewart’s Crossing, and runs from Mayo up to the town of Keno.  Over half of the 64-mile road is unpaved.

We camped at the Five Mile Lake Yukon government campground, away from the lake to keep the Golden dry.  With so much rain, Rox’s coat takes nearly the entire day to completely dry.

Early the next morning, we were up early to hunt for moose.  On a 12-mile four-wheel trail up to Minto Lake, we saw tracks, but no moose.  The only creature we could find was a ruffled grouse, ruffling.  I stalked him with the camera for about 50 feet before he finally ducked into the brush.

We decided to take the loop to Keno, not recognizing that the seldom-used back half was for 4x4s only.  The road had several water crossings, but otherwise was in fairly good shape.

Keno is an old mining town with lots of history, dating from 1906 when silver lead veins were discovered.  Today, Keno is a mere shadow of its former self.  However, with the price of gold rising, several mines have recently been reopened.  We checked out their town museum before chatting with the lady at the Keno Visitor’s Center.

We have not seen a hoofed animal in nearly a month… no moose, elk, caribou, or even deer.  It has been a huge disappointment after last year’s abundant sightings.  We learned from her that hunting season in Canada begins the first of August.  With hunting being huge in these parts, obviously, all the hoofed animals have hunkered down somewhere, trying to stay as far from humans as possible.  In order to see them, we now know that we must head towards wildlife preserves and national parks.

We drove up to Keno Hill to the signpost, meeting a miner and his family out for a drive.  He told us that a friend of his witnessed a herd of caribou migrating on the Dempster.  He said that some times the herd will move in two sections, with the weak and old leading the migration several weeks prior to the main herd.  Our hopes are high that we will catch the second migration.

Keno Hill reaches an elevation of 6,065 feet, offering panoramic views.  We hiked up to the ridge, then back down to the signpost.  A group of lady geologists arrived shortly after we did.  One was raised in Houston, so we immediately struck up a conversation.

That evening, our camp was invaded by moochers, looking for handouts.  These brazen jays swooped down, inching surprisingly close, much to the chagrin of Roxanne.

David discussing the detriments of poor diet habits with one of our  camp hosts.

Tomorrow we break camp and head for Dawson City to stage for our trip up the Dempster.  With rainbows leading the way once again this year, we know for certain that life is good!  :)

Yukon on Dwellable

Haines, Alaska

Rain continues to follow us.  With forecasts of continued rain in any direction that we travel, we opted for Haines.  Haines is another port site on the Alaskan Marine Highway, so we had no idea what to expect.  Last year, the town of Skagway was replete with cruise ships and tourists.  It seemed almost scary busy after weeks of being out in the bush.  And, well, you already know about our Hyder experience.

Since it appears that we are at least a week too early for the Dempster, Haines beckoned, particularly with the promise of an eagle sanctuary and a possibility of viewing bears fishing the weir along Chilkat River.

We made Haines Junction by mid-day and determined to camp at the Million Dollar Falls Yukon government camp.  The site was extremely remote, so we tested out the electric bear fence for the first time.  It was a hoot just watching David with instructions in hand, setting up our “home security” system.

David awakened in the middle of the night, feeling sure that some hooved animals breached the fence.  Rox and I slept through the whole thing.

The next morning, we drove through alpine tundra and sharp mountains, all mysteriously cloaked in a misty fog.  In areas along the highest summits, visibility dropped to only several car lengths.  We stopped for road repairs and several pilot car escorts before arriving at US customs. 

How wonderful it was to be back in the States again!  We quickly realized that we not only had cell service but also no roaming fees.  We set up outside the visitor’s center and called to see how David’s brother is doing.  Paul is in the middle of his second round of cancer treatment.  We were delighted to learn that he would be released from the hospital within a few days. 

Unfortunately, Internet service was impossible to come by in Haines, so we’re waiting to upload this post.  It seems that we either have cell or Internet service or neither on this trip. 

We camped at a remote state park called Chilkat; a beautiful park nestled among tight groves of aspens.  The campground host told us that while they had moose, the Chilkoot Lake State Park on the other side of town had bears.  He recommended that we visit and told us that every time he had gone, he had seen bears.

Our first visit offered no bears, just busloads of tourists from the cruise ship.  We learned that unlike Skagway, Haines only had cruise ships docking on Wednesdays.  Just our luck that we arrived on a Tuesday evening!

We returned to our campground and decided to drive down to the boat launch, just in case any moose were hanging around, wanting to be photographed.  While there were no moose, we spied a bald eagle hopping around the shoreline at some distance.  It seemed as if he were dancing a bit of a jig, then he would disappear behind some marsh grasses before he jumped again.

David watched the eagle through his binoculars, while I watched through the big lens.  Suddenly, the eagle took off, barely skimming the water.  I started shooting.  While the results are less than stellar, it is easy to see that he had been beheading a large fish on the shoreline.  He landed on the pillar and called to his sweetheart.  They soon flew off together and enjoyed their evening supper in a nest of pine branches.

After a trip back to the weir the next morning to see bears (again with no luck), we found a Laundromat with great showers the next day and did some much-needed “freshening.”  A trip up to the eagle sanctuary offered a few photo ops amidst intermittent rain, but nothing spectacular.  We did speak with a lovely young woman from Ontario who had just come down from the Dempster.  She said that in about five days, we should hit peak color.  We were excited at the prospect.

That evening, we decided to take one more waltz down to the Chilkoot weir.  We immediately spied “Speedy and the twins,” a mother bear with year-old twin cubs.  We watched them across the river for some time before they disappeared.  David and I decided to set up by the weir, just in case Speedy tried there next.  I set up near some professional photographers who were funny and kind and helpful.

Soon, “Mama and the triplets” arrived at the weir.  Her cubs were over a year old, so Mama rested under a grove of trees while the trips fished.  It was fascinating to watch them.

After a time, Speedy and the twins arrived on the opposite bank, about fifty feet from us.  We were mesmerized, watching them fish.  Then another busload of tourists arrived. 

I was at the edge of the riverbank, just above a steep drop off, leaning against a pine and shooting photos.  The tourists began crowding around us.  One jumped down next to me, using my shoulder as his anchor, nearly pushing me into the river in the process.  I hurled around, trying to find solid ground, looking for David.  The man apologized and said that everything was fine.  Not so for me.  There were too many people crowding around me.  I was ever so grateful to find David’s hand reaching for me.  He pulled me up to the road.

About that time, Speedy had brought her salmon in the middle of the road to feast on it.  Some tourists in a van decided that they had to drive right past her, startling the bear.  As most of you know, it is simply not good manners to get between a mother bear with cubs. 

All of us began backing up as Speedy and the twins made their way towards us.  The bears quickly detoured into the adjoining woods, leaving us all upset at these inconsiderate people.  Richard, one of the professional photographers, lamented that Haines had become such a tourist trap.

The next morning, we broke camp and left Haines.  On our way out, we stopped by the now familiar eagle sanctuary’s viewing platform.  To our amazement, an enormous brown boar was fishing for salmon.  He was across the river and some 200 yards away.  We had never seen a bear so large.  I leave you with some photos of this absolutely magnificent beast.

Juneau on Dwellable

The Next Phase of our Journey

Rain continues to follow us as we search for brighter skies.  Last night, we received another torrential rain storm, giving us seven straight days of liquid sunshine. At least last night, the canvas did not seep.  Now that we are far from Hyder, even the rain seems not to be a burden.

Over the past week, we have changed from warm weather gear to cold.  The daily highs are only reaching into the upper 50s now, with lows dipping into the low 40s at night.  With the added dampness, we have spent several of the last evenings huddled over our little propane-powered heater.

The vast majority of the RV rigs are heading south now, as most heed warnings to be off the Alaskan Highway by the first of September.

There are very few of us heading north.  But north we go, bound for the Dempster once again, a full week earlier than originally planned.

Locals tell us that it has been a cold, wet summer for Canada and Alaska.  Many predict an early winter.  Already the upper elevations sport new dustings of snow.  Along the roadside, leaves are just beginning to tint in gold.  We are hoping that this is a good omen for all of our friends sweltering under the summer heat in Texas and beyond, and that they, too, will have an early fall.

Unlike last year, we packed our heavy winter gear for this trip, just in case an early snow settles in over the Yukon and Northwest Territories.  We left Texas a full month later than last year, hoping to find the caribou migrations.

We are now in a balancing act between autumn's gold and the first snow.  If the snows come too early, the leaves turn brown quickly.  Perhaps, however, if the snows come sooner rather than later, the caribou will begin their migration earlier.  

We feel as if we are hovering in Whitehorse tonight, wondering which direction the wind will blow us before we head up the Dempster.  Hopefully God will provide the answer by morning's light.

Regardless, we are as ready as we can be for whatever adventure awaits us.  So for now, dear friends, just know that we are happy and living adventurously expectant!  (Romans 8:14-16, The Message Version)

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.  

Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into the trees.  

The winds will blow their own freshness into you, 

and the storms their energy, 

while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."  

-John Muir

The Final Portion of the Cassiar

We left Lake Kinaskin this morning amidst a continuous drizzle.  Opting for a hot breakfast, we stopped at Mama's Cafe in Deas Lake.  Although not normally open for breakfast, we were delighted when the owner offered to make us eggs and hash browns.

The final stretch of the Cassiar proved to be the roughest.  Up until Boya Lake, the road was smooth.  From Boya until the Deas River Crossing, we met sections of gravel and multiple frost heaves.  The road smoothed out again for a time, then became severely heaved and bumpy as we traversed through a lengthy section of charred forest land.

I was driving and first caught sight of a magnificent brown bear with a blonde blaze running along his spine.  I pulled over to take photos, lamenting that David was not in the driver's seat.

I was able to pop off a couple of quick shots, but my focus changed as the bear ambled directly toward us.  Completely unafraid, he appeared to be more curious than anything.  However, discretion being the better part of valor, I jumped back in the driver's seat, unwilling for David and I to take the time to change positions until we were safely out of distance.

Brown bear foraging along Cassiar roadside.

Just a klick or two up the road (about a half mile), we met a bicyclist, heading toward the bear's foraging area.  We flagged him down to make him aware of the bear.  He thanked us profusely and seemed to steel himself for the encounter.  Just a few hundred meters down the road, we met one of his riding companions and flagged him down also.  Soon thereafter, we met the third.  It was comforting to see other vehicles heading the same direction after the bicyclists.  And folks think that we're crazy!

We spent Friday night at a familiar campground in Watson Lake, back on the Alaskan Highway.  Tomorrow, we will camp in Teslin, then will head to Whitehorse on Sunday for some much-needed maintenance.  Oz needs his bearings checked, R-2 needs an oil change, and we need fresh laundry and a stop at the grocery store.

It is good to finally be able to find a reliable internet connect and upload the posts.  Hopefully, we will also have cell phone service in Whitehorse... a reminder of the things we now take for granted!!!

Lake Kinaskin

After seeing our eight black bear along the roadside to Lake Kinaskin, we arrived at the Kinaskin Provincial Park and found a lakefront site just a few feet from the water.

Our pent-up Golden found immediate relief in the lake's chilly waters.  We tossed stick after stick for her to retrieve until we feared that we would never get her dried off in time for bed.

Smitten by this beautiful area, we decided to stay another night, in spite of the intermittent rain.  We drove up to a hiking trail but turned back after horseback riders informed us that we would need hip boots to hike it because of the mud.  

We came back to camp and decided to hike the trail around the lake.  Unfortunately, one of the bridge's had washed out, so we had to turn back sooner than hoped.  Rox was in seventh heaven, dodging from the trail into the lake as often as she felt like it.

By early evening, she was still wanting to fetch sticks.  When I noticed that her flanks were beginning to quiver from the lake's chill, I decided that giving her a chewy might be a better alternative.  For the first time ever, Rox couldn't finish it.  A fatigue set in for her that I had never seen before.

She slept like a log that night... and the next day's drive as well.  I'm certain that she's wishing that we could somehow find a happy medium between no activity and too much!

Northern British Columbia on Dwellable

On Hearing God Laugh

One of my favorite sayings is “if you want to hear God laugh, just tell Him your plans.”  I am quite certain that I hear Him chuckling now.

During last year’s Alaskan adventure, I was like a child in a new park.  Everything was new and wondrous.  I was quite content to see what Papa had in store for us next.  As a result, our trip was nothing short of fantastic.

Not so with this trip, particularly with our Hyder experience.  I confess that I was focused on going to Hyder… to the point that it was the main destination for me.  My plan was to photograph bears… and those photographs would be incredible… would add to the portfolio… and may even go to great lengths in helping the Hopewell Food Pantry.

Well, if you have read the Hyder/Stewart post, you are well aware that my expectations and grand plans were drowned in a deluge of rain.  Out of a dozen or more hours, standing in the downpour with dozens of other hopeful photographers, we viewed a total of two bears.

We struck up a conversation with one of those photographers.  He was a retired gentleman from southern Oregon, a former hunter who had taken up a new kind of gun for a different kind of shot.  He was traveling in the back of a Rav 4, with camera gear as his only companion, admittedly in search of that perfect photograph.

He had spent several days prior to our arrival on the bear-viewing platform.  During his wait for the perfect bear, he gleaned information from other professional photographers and enthusiasts.  Where were their favorite spots?  What was their favorite game to shoot?

As the morning and deluge wore on and our conversation began to fade, he told us that he had had enough waiting and watching.  He was tired of the rain, tired of waiting for bears to arrive, tired of sleeping in a narrow spot in the back of his SUV so that he could keep the rest of his gear dry.  He shook his head as he gazed upstream and said, “I was always a fair weather hunter.”

As he pondered the stream, he said that he had come to a conclusion:  photography is like gambling.  Once you get it into your blood, you are always on the search for the next best photograph.  You are never satisfied… you always want one better.

I shivered as he spoke.  With rain soaking through my rain jacket and boots and leaking down my sleeves and neckline, I pondered his words, recognizing that God often puts people in our paths to guide us.  

So the question quickly became... was that the kind of photographer that I wanted to be?  I freely admit that I am also a fair weather person.  And it had all come so easily last year.  Then the inevitable question arose in my heart… what was so different about this year’s trip than last year?

That still, small voice spoke clearly.  I wasn’t depending on God to bring the animals to me… I was depending on myself (through research, planning destinations and arrival times, etc.).

David and I had talked about staying one more night in Hyder… just in case there was a break in the weather and the opportunity to see more bears.  After this last morning’s venture and my revelation, however, we decided to break camp and head toward Whitehorse.  I humbly surrendered this trip back to God. 

There are those who may argue with my results… I offer you, however, what I consider proof positive.  After three days of standing in the rain and seeing only two bears in what was suppose to be the bear viewing capital of the world, we saw eight bears on the three-hour drive to Lake Kinaskin!  :)

Black bear on road to Lake Kinaskin

P.S.  Dear Melanie, Perhaps you can understand this best of all… as if I needed further confirmation, that afternoon we also saw a double rainbow!  God is so good!

Double rainbow over Lake Kiinaskin

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, 

but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.  

Proverbs 19:21

Videos of the Hyder Bears

While I took photos at the Hyder bear-viewing platform, David manned our little video camera.

Below are two short clips with almost the sum total of all the bear action that we saw during our hours of standing in the rain.  The first clip shows Jaws (a large brown boar with a torn lip) checking out the salmon run.  The second clip shows a young black bear that strolled into Fish Creek, walking right under the boardwalk:

(Note:  I am a bit concerned about how long these videos will take to upload, so am posting them separately.)

The Hyder Experience

It sounded like the perfect photo op… a bear-viewing platform over Fish Creek that, according to all the literature, practically guaranteed daily opportunities to photograph bears fishing for salmon.  Located on a sliver of US property, wedged between the ocean and the town of Stewart in British Columbia, I had read about the multitude of bears that visit this prime salmon spawning site and was convinced that this would be the best place to photograph bears. 

The salmon run in this creek from early August until September.  Hedging our bet that it might be a late run because of the cold summer, we opted to arrive in mid-August.  While hiking the Twin Falls trail out of Smithers, we ran into a couple who had been at Hyder the week before.  The fellow was excited to tell us about the bear he saw scratching his back under a bridge and the sow and cub that visited the evening they arrived.

I was primed… with an itchy trigger finger, I knew that Hyder was the place to be.  I couldn’t have been further off base!

We left Lakelse Provincial Park in rain and arrived in Stewart in rain.  We checked out the Stewart campgrounds, then drove into Hyder to check out theirs. 

Hyder was quite a shock.  After visiting Skagway last year, we figured that Hyder would be somewhat similar.  It is not.  The pavement ends just before Hyder begins.  We were greeted by rain-filled ruts and potholes and boarded-up buildings.  Particularly along the main road, the buildings were mostly run down and looked very similar to what a mining town would have looked like in the early twenties.  Folks in Hyder told us that they like the rugged look of their town.

On our first run into Hyder on Sunday afternoon, we attempted to enter the viewing platform.  But the evening crew didn’t have the pass we needed, so we were turned away and told to check with the park ranger after eight the following morning. 

With the Hyder campground looking more like a parking lot lined with big rigs, we opted to return to Stewart to set up camp.  We chose the treed, municipal campground called Rainey Creek.  Little did we know what an omen that would be!

Hyder has no customs checkpoint, however, Canada does for those returning to Canada.   We found the Canadian guards to be thorough yet very courteous and amicable.  In fact, we were so recognizable to them by the end of the trip that they often asked if we had finally gotten any photos!

Upon our arrival back in Hyder on Monday morning, we were told that a boar, a sow and cub, and a wolf had fished for salmon the prior evening.  Undaunted, we were happy to finally be on the platform.  I soon located the perfect spot to set up the tripod, across the creek from a trampled trail with a half-dozen salmon carcasses lining the shoreline.

It was raining a light drizzle, but we were excited.  About two-dozen folks joined us on the platform.  Several professional photographers had set up cameras, waiting for the perfect shot.  Others were long-time visitors taking both video and photographs.  Still others were first timers like us.  Some came from the U.S., France, Germany, Norway, and all over Canada.

By ten that morning, not a bear had appeared.  The park rangers told us that the bears normally appear from 6 am to 10 am, then from 4 pm through 10 pm.  We decided to take a drive up to Salmon Glacier.  Fog and rain engulfed us on the drive.  We finally turned back when we were barely able to view of the toe of the glacier through the dense cloud cover.

That evening, we stood through a steady rain from 3:30 pm until nearly 8 pm without a bear sighting.  Surely, however, tomorrow would offer more.

We awoke at 6:30 am and decided to forego coffee rather than miss a bear.  The rain began in earnest.  I had my camera wrapped in a two-gallon storage bag, hoping to keep the majority of the rain off its connects and the lens. 

We met a variety of folks during our time on the platform, each with his own way of waiting.  Some were pacers, walking back and forth along the length of the boardwalk.  Others were sitters, content to wait it out, perched on a stool and under an umbrella.  Still others were talkers, making conversation with whoever would chat with them.  Others were simply impatient, leaving after only minutes or a mere hour without a bear viewing.

A small portion of the Hyder bear-viewing platform.

We left at about 9:30 Monday morning, cold, hungry, and needing coffee badly.  We returned at 4 pm and were relieved that we hadn’t missed a thing.  We left at nearly 9 pm, still without taking a single photograph of a bear.  It rained hard and steady all night long.

On Tuesday, we were back on the platform at 7 am.  Again, we left disappointed at around 9:30.  We returned again around 4:30.  Even though we had added an extra layer of clothing, we were soon shivering from the dampness and chill as the temperatures dipped into the 40s.  As the evening waned and the skies became even heavier, I knew that even if a bear did show that there would not be enough light for a decent shot. 

Still, we waited.  As the rain began to soak through our gear, long timer visitors told us that the Hyder bear viewing has become a shadow of what it once was.  We heard rumors that several of the bears had become so accustomed to people that they had wandered into to the towns and had been shot.  The forest rangers were much more upbeat, blaming the weather and the cool summer on the lack of bears.

About 7:30, the platform came alive when an old boar named Jaws made his entrance deep in the back of the creek.  The large brown bear was dubbed Jaws because he has a droopy bottom lip, most likely a souvenir from a battle won years ago.  He slowly made his way up the bank, fishing along the creek.  As we waited for him to edge closer, the steady rain became a downpour.

Jaws, a grizzly boar, fishing.

Conditions continue to deteriorate as we turn from downpour to deluge.

Shortly after Jaws began meandering back down the creek, we spied a small black bear foraging berries along the back of the platform.  Dozens of folks wedged along the platform, each trying to get their shot.  The little bear was completely unconcerned about us.  He walked under the viewing platform to forage on the other side before returning and disappearing into the forest.

Little black bear foraging for berries.

Little black bear heading home.

Happy to have finally taken at least a few photos, even under such dismal conditions, David and I left at about 8:30 that evening to get warm.  We opted for a hot supper to try to ward off the chill.  My camera had gotten so wet, there was condensate on the inside of the long lens.  I hoped to dry it out in a heated restaurant. 

Over dinner, David and I talked about whether or not we should stay another day.  A lovely couple that we had met on the platform sat at the next table.  Their enthusiasm was contagious, and my jury on staying was still out.

Exhausted from the day, the damp, and the chill, we planned to dry out and crawl into bed to try to get warm.  Unfortunately, when we arrived back at Oz, we discovered to our dismay that the canvas was so soaked from the three day’s rain that condensate around the windows had pooled and leaked, leaving both of our sleeping bags soaked. 

At 9 pm, we ended up at the Laundromat to dry out the bedding.  Thankfully, another great couple that we had met on the platform were also drying out and kept us company.  Their conversation helped to pass the already late hour.  We returned to camp and crawled into bed at nearly 11 pm.

The next morning, we were awake at 6:30 to make another run to the platform.  It was still driving rain.  We had now spent over a dozen hours trying to get a shot.

When we arrived, several told us that we had left too early the evening before.  A sow and cub had arrived, with the cub making his first salmon catch.  It didn’t matter… the light was already so low when the boar had appeared that I figured that any shot after that would have been mediocre at best.

We waited another two hours without another bear sighting.  Over breakfast, we talked through our options and the reality of the weather forecast.  Our waitress lamented the short tourist season with the unusual cold and wet.  She told us that just a few hundred feet above the platform that the mountain had received significant snow.

We determined that God was telling us to move inland.  It was really a rather easy decision.  Although I was disappointed at missing my fantastic bear photo op, the mere thought of finding sunshine again lifted my spirits.  Besides, poor Rox had been captured in the back of the truck practically the entire time and was fairly bursting with energy.

We broke camp under a misty rain, said goodbye to Hyder, and headed on to Lake Kinaskin.

Yellowhead Highway

Wildlife still seems scarce… at least I have found very few animals willing to be photographed.  After last year’s abundant photo opportunities, it is a true disappointment... however, hope springs eternal! 

After Bella Coola, we picked up the Yellowhead Highway in Prince George and traveled as far as Smithers, camping under the chill of a glacier. 

A cute and very young woman at the Visitor’s Center suggested that we take a "quick" side hike to Twin Falls at the base of the glacier, promising that it would take us no more than five minutes to reach the viewing platform. 

Ah… youth!  It took us flatlanders nearly 30 minutes to reach the platform… on a trail that was all uphill, with an almost 1,000 feet in altitude climb!  At least it did offer some beautiful photo ops…

From Smithers, we traveled to Terrace and camped at Lakelse Lake Provincial Park, in a lovely site with surprisingly few other campers around us.  We were tucked in the old growth forest section. 

On our first afternoon there, we hiked around to the lake.  Of course, Roxanne was a happy girl when she had the chance to take a swim.

By next morning, the rain had set in.  We drove to Katimat and then back through Terrace and on to Prince Rupert and Port Edward.  All were hidden in low-lying clouds.

After stopping in Terrace to check emails, we also checked the weather.  With promises of more rain, we decided to travel on to Hyder.  The chances for rain are less there and, of course, I’m itching to take photos of the bears fishing for salmon. 

As we returned to camp, the evening sun began filtering through the trees, offering the chance to take a few more photos of these incredible coastal forests.

Tomorrow, we’re off again.  Here’s hoping for photographic bears in Hyder!!!

Northern British Columbia on Dwellable

Bella Coola

God often presents detours in our lives.  We discovered a beautiful diversion in Bella Coola. 

While camping at Lac La Hache, a couple saw our Texas license plates and stopped to chat.  They were headed toward Bella Coola.  After their explanation of the area, we decided that it was a trip that we should also make.

Bella Coola sits at the western end of the Chilcotin Highway in British Columbia.  This strip of fertile land called the Bella Coola valley is nestled between the ocean and BC’s central coastal mountains.  The population is a mix of native Nuxalk First Nation peoples and Norwegian immigrants (population 2,200).

Because the only way in and out of Bella Coola was by ferry, for years requests were made for the government to fulfill their promise to build a road from Williams Lake into Bella Coola.  After years of being denied and in the spirit of Canadian independence, volunteers finally took matters into their own hands and bulldozed the Freedom Road along Tsitsutl Peak in the 1950s. 

The Freedom Road is definitely a driving challenge.  It is six hours of rugged road from Williams Lake.  The major portion of the road is paved, however, the most challenging section runs from Anahim Lake to Firvale, along Tsitsutl Peak.  Affectionately known as “the Hill,” this portion of the road is gravel, reaching grades of 14 percent in some sections, cresting at Hackman Pass (5,000 feet) and descending to 40 feet at Bella Coola. 

I drove the “down” section, keeping the truck in low gear to keep from overheating the brakes on the steep descent.  It felt great to be four-wheeling again. 

Once in Bella Coola, we visited a few sites and ended up at the visitor’s center.  Hoping to take the ferry to Prince Rupert, we were disappointed to learn that ferry fees would cost over $800.  So we decided that going back up “the Hill,” would be the most cost effective measure.  (With gas prices nearing $5 a gallon in Canada, we’re definitely feeling the pinch!)

We spent the night at Eagle Lodge campground and hiked the Saloompt Forest Trail, an old growth forest area outside of Bella Coola the next morning.

Oz, looking rather small against the mountains in Bella Coola

We decided to drive up to the M Gurr Lake Trail.  While we knew that the trail was only accessible by a 4x4 road, we were well into our excursion when we discovered that it was a 17 kilometer 4x4 trail (about 10 miles).  David was at the wheel and although the road narrowed so closely in some places that the brush cleaned off the sides of the Xterra, we had a blast.  It took us an hour to reach the trailhead.  As you can see by the photos, the view was certainly worth the climb!

Although it was late afternoon when we arrived at the trailhead, we tried hiking to the lake.  The mosquitoes, however, were absolutely dreadful!  We were so engulfed by mosquitoes that we decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned back after about thirty minutes.  (They were so thick that we were covering our noses to keep from inhaling them.  One actually became lodged in my ear!)

Once back “home” in Oz, we took advantage of our campground's fantastic outdoor shower with views up the mountains.  After a refreshing bath and supper on the camp stove, we finally dove into the camper because of the wind chill.  (Yes, to all our sweltering friends, we DO feel guilty wearing sweatshirts!)

This morning, we broke camp.  On our way up “the Hill,” we saw a large brown bear too far in the distance to photograph.  With only a few butterfly and ground squirrel photographs to show after the tidal pools, I admit to having an itchy trigger finger.

However, I definitely feel that God is priming me for our next big “shoot.”  I can hardly wait to see what Papa has in store for us next!

Juneau on Dwellable

A Brief Respite

We have been on the road for nearly three weeks now and have spent only one night in a motel (our first night of the trip in Tulsa).  Tonight we are resting well in the home of extremely generous friends.

Our new, next door neighbors from home just happen to have a summer house here in Sammamish and were kind enough to invite us to spend some time with them.  We have spent two wonderful, restful days here. 

On our arrival, Nancy planned for a trip to the Marymoor Dog Park with her dog Boo and Rox.  Roxanne is now totally convinced that Washington is Golden Retriever heaven.  The dog park was fabulous with miles of trails to hike and several places along the way to jump into the river.  Of course, no need to guess where my water dog wanted to go!

Surrounded by a dozen other swimming dogs, Rox was so happy she simply didn’t know what to do.  Someone would throw a ball or stick for their dog, and Rox would swim along side that dog or try to fetch it herself.  After we were done at the park, we found an adjacent dog wash establishment and gave her a much needed bath.  (Ah, the joy of having a clean dog!)

Friday has been spent catching up on maintenance needs.  David took the Xterra in for an oil change and ran a few other errands while I did three loads of laundry and caught up on the blog.   

We’re back on the road tomorrow morning.  Hopefully, we’ll find an internet connection to upload everything soon.

Until then, know that we are well and enjoying the generosity and friendship of some wonderful folks.  Thank you, Nancy, Fereydoon, and Boo!

Tidal Pools

I have always been fascinated by eco-systems and how these tiny pockets of diversity reside in symbiotic relationship within larger, often more harsh environments. 

Tidal pools are among my favorite.  These tiny colonies of fascinating sea creatures cling to rocks and outcroppings along the ocean’s edge.  As the tides ebb and flow, they happily exist, exposed to air or submerged in water within their craggy homes.

Today we happened upon a tidal pool along the northern shore of the Olympic peninsula, just as the tide was beginning its rise.  Roxanne became like a puppy again.  Between Lake Quinault, a long hike, and now the ocean, Rox obviously believes the peninsula is Golden Retriever heaven.  (We, on the other hand, wonder if we will ever be able to dry out the bed of the truck!)

We strolled along the beach under heavy cloud cover.  Peering into tiny pools, wading through rivulets along the base of the rocks, and climbing craggy haystacks, we ventured into this fascinating and strange land caught between sea and air.

Below are some of the beautiful sea creatures that we managed to photograph before the incoming tide washed over my boot tops:

PS  Rox's post on tidal pools has some cool activities to download for the kiddos... just click here:  http://roxannedogblog.blogspot.com/2011/08/tidal-pools.html

Olympic Peninsula on Dwellable

A Poem as Lovely as a Tree

The old growth forests in Mount Rainier were just a taste of the magnificent trees that we have found on the Olympic Peninsula.  Home to some of the largest trees in the world, the Quinault Rain Forest simply amazed us.

We left Rainier, camping at Rainbow Falls State Park near Chehalis, Washington. As dusk approached, sun filtered through the canopy of trees.  Nestled among old growth spruce, Oz looked like a tiny toy.

The next morning, we traveled across the southern portion of the Olympic Peninsula to Lake Quinault and the Willaby Campground.  Our campsite was right on the lake, so our favorite Golden stayed wet nearly our entire stay.

The sun was out when we arrived at the campground; however, by morning clouds had settled over the lake.  The air felt heavy and cool.  It began misting as we gathered our gear to begin hiking this ancient rainforest. 

A tiny vole boldly entered the camp to eat truffles.  I inched within three feet of him to take photos.  With the thick cloud cover, I had to use my flash.  Of course, he immediately scurried off.  Surprisingly, however, within minutes he returned and allowed me to take several more photos before he disappeared again.

The Quinault Loop trail is over five miles in length and began just across from our campsite.  We hiked through the heart of Quinault’s temperate rainforest, up a steady rise into a much drier eco-system, down along the river’s edge, across cedar bogs, and looping back along the lake. 

The Pacific Northwest is home to over 66 percent of the world’s temperate rainforests. 

Considered the “Emerald Jewel” of the Pacific Northwest, the Quinault Rainforest has dense, lush vegetation, high mountains, and abundant moisture.  Resting between the Pacific Ocean and the western slopes of the Olympic Mountains, the rainforest receives over 12 feet of rain each year.

As we reached high points along our hike, the temperature would rise (along with the number of mosquitoes).  As we walked through the valleys, the air felt heavy and almost chilly. 

Here are a few photos that we took along the way:

After resting for a bit, we drove into the quaint little town of Quinault to find Internet service.  Then we drove to the trailhead of the world’s largest spruce tree. 

As you can tell from the photos below, this tree is more than magnificent.  Standing over 191 feet tall, it is over 58 feet wide at the base.  The tree is over a thousand years old.

We decided to treat ourselves to a delicious salmon supper at Quinault’s Salmon House.  Over our meal, we pondered whether to stay an additional day at the lake or venture further up the peninsula. 

With friends waiting our arrival in Seattle, we decided to continue northward, but have not ruled out returning after catching up on some much-needed maintenance.  The Xterra has already logged nearly 3,900 miles since we left Texas.  We are also in dire need of a Laundromat and replenishing supplies.  So we will leave Quinault for the moment and see what Papa has in store for us next. 

I think that I shall never see

A poem as lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast,

A tree looks at God all day.

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

(The Tree, by Joyce Kilmer)

Olympic Peninsula on Dwellable