After a snow storm, when the sun comes out bright and the mountains beckon for a walk, put on: long underwear, heavy socks, hand knit hat, neck warmer and mittens. Pull on a parka. Immediately have to use the bathroom.
Botanie Rock from the bridge over the Thompson, where it meets the Fraser. A stunning morning here.
We went and said hi at a special place at the temple. As the sky opened up and we were drenched in a deluge, we both swore that we could imagine laughter from that well loved man.
Thanks Sunshine for a good, good visit.
And a tourist shot, from Spence’s Bridge after an excellent meal at the Packing House.
Lots of photos taken, a bit of scrambling in the mud, a bit of walking. The ingredients were all there.
New friends took me out for the day. We searched for, and found, wild asparagus. We walked where I didn’t know we could go, and it was good. We had, get this, a small fire and had a (veggie) weiner roast! (This I haven’t done for a while. Years.) And – we walked, and we walked. We saw the remains of a more prosperous time, 50, 60 years ago, more? This is part of the reason I came here.
The asparagus was an excellent dinner, with a bit of lemon and seasoned salt…
At the site of the old orchard and homestead. The mountain behind is called Arthur’s Seat.
Another view of Arthur’s Seat.
The Thompson River is swollen and full of debris after a recent heavy storm. Those are snow sheds for the trains on the other side. This is rugged country.
This was a shot from the car as I drove to Lillooet this morning. I was in search of some native plants to put in the yard, and Splitrock Environmental was the destination. I was delighted to pick up a wild rose, a saskatoon bush, and a mock orange as shrubs, and some arrow leaf balsam root flowers which will hopefully still bloom for me. I added a nodding onion as well, as the very helpful woman at the nursery had me smell and taste it – like chives but grows wild here. This city girl got it finally, as I puttered in the yard this afternoon. As I dug I could hear hummingbirds flitting around, and at one point the sharp chatter of an eagle. A neighbour came by and we chatted, and someone I know drove by and hollered from his truck. This ain’t the big city anymore.
This was taken on a walk yesterday on the west side of the river. Not sure of the age of this cabin, but there are ruins from a Chinese railway settlement just near here that date from around the 1880’s.
There are some fierce moments that happen here. My heart’s companion is with me somehow. Big as the wide sky.
(I drove very carefully to Lillooet, watching for deer. There were several and several mountain sheep too. Some muttering under the breath may have occurred. )
Knitting? Oh, I will get to that someday.
It could have been a better photo. I didn’t pause to think about putting it up on the blog, just thought it was interesting when I went for a short hike in the park in the Fraser Canyon. Its spring walking, the ground is pretty mushy and there is a fair bit of snow left, so it wasn’t what one could call a real hike. A good hour and a bit of exploring before heading down and meeting a good friend in the Lytton Hotel for a deep fried lunch.
These signs gladden the heart of a walker. Good old brown trail signs, typical of BC Parks. This should prove to be a good spring and summer to explore.
Just past the turn around point. Wet feet, oh well. Better prepared next time.
It was a gorgeous trip to Lytton, clear and bright.
Among other things, I attended the Canadian Pacific Christmas train. This is a yearly event, a train that winds its way along the tracks, stopping at small towns. One of the cars opens like magic and a band appears, plays some seasonal songs and carries on to the next place. It’s a big time fundraiser for local food banks, there are speeches, there are thanks given, and mostly, there is minus fifteen (celsius that is with a wind chill of much colder) boogie-ing. The band was The Odds and it was fun!
This last shot was taken by merely turning around at the performance site. The village of Lytton, with the Fraser River beginning to ice up in the background.
(It’s good to drop Scrooge tendencies sometimes. When one does that, one discovers things. For example, you can dance like mad in layers of wool and big boots. You may not be able to identify your partners thanks to toques and scarves and other face coverings, but that just adds to it. )
Where the Fraser and the Thompson Rivers meet.
Entering the Stein Valley.
Botanie Mountain from way up a logging road.
A deeply quiet place…