Fire and Icy Cold Water
It is quite beautiful here, though not in a stunning kind of way but just in its simplicity. Too look up from my bed through the tent skylight and see nothing but pine trees and sky. Too bad the sounds aren't so natural. Forest fire fighting helicopters buzzing overhead. Trains passing in the distance. Trucks going by on Highway 1 too although they're faint. Car doors closing as other campers pack up and head out for the day. Tents unzipping.
The nature sounds in comparison are very subdued, at least during the day when the cicadas are silent. A crow cawing rather obnoxiously. A wasp buzzing around me. A breeze gently moving the leaves and pine needles. And a moment ago, a small flock of birds took to the air. These subtle sounds would be very calm and restorative if my senses weren't dulled by the much larger sound of an RV pulling out next door.
My campmates are all still asleep, where I wish I could be too but my body is telling me that's all I can have. We stayed up until midnight last night playing cards. That's like 3 a.m. in camping time. I could say they're all tired out from the active day we had yesterday but mostly we went to the beach by the river and sat in the sun, napped, floated in innertubes and played a bit of Bocce. I swam a few times too but the water had that take your breath away quality that didn't invite you to linger. And I read about pagan rituals in faraway Melanesia; where no doubt the water is a more welcoming temperature.
Across the river from our spot for the day, a far different scene. Smoke was rising from behind the hilltop, so much so that the sun was obscured and became a giant angry orange ball. The ripples of the water also glistened with that same orange. The light had the quality of a tropical sunset but lasted through the entire afternoon. And the helicopters. Four helicopters were working this unseen fire. These weird machines with skinny bodies and double sets of sagging rotors would fly in directly overhead of us to dip their buckets in the river just a few hundred meters upstream from our beach. And then they would fly up, framing themselves in the sunset as they disappeared over the hill to drop their water.
And then there was fire directly in front of us on the facing hillside. Out of nowhere we saw smoke appear in some trees and then crackling red flames. And then again in another spot a little bit farther along the river. There seemed to be no danger of it jumping the mighty Thompson River though. The camp host later that evening was wholly unconcerned, joking wryly that he'd arm us all with garden hoses.
We're just 3 hours from Vancouver (if one doesn't take the speed limits to literally). But it's another world here. 38C (100F) was 3 degrees higher than the highest guess among my carmates and I when we pulled into Lytton yesterday, which proclaims itself 'Canada's Hot Spot" in aregional rivalry with nearby Lilloet. Not only would that temperature be virtually unheard of in Vancouver (and yet is routine here) but it's a completely dry heat that feels totally comfortable unless you're baking in the direct sunlight. For that reason, we would start our day on the beach by constructing some sort of shelter. Gives the project types something to do (every group has them) and the read-a-book types something to sit under.
The 2nd day on the beach the wind had shifted and the sun looked more or less normal. The helicopters were still there though. This time they dipped their buckets directly in front of us in the river. One waved back at us as we stood naked by the river. The beach is nestled in quite close to Highway 1 and rail tracks on both sides of the river but is mostly private except when the whitewater rafters from the Kumsheen Rafting Resort passed by. Or so I thought. When I returned to the city, there was an email awaiting me from a friend who had coincidentally been on a bus passing by Westbound on Wednesday afternoon. He writes: 'As I was taking in the rugged landscape of the Thompson River imagine my surprise when I saw ëa certain naked grasshopper' [his nickname for me] frolicking on the shores!' Hmmm, I guess from those high bus windows there was more of a view than I thought. Oh well.
The nearby Stein River valley trail was another highlight. Accessed by a two car ferry from Lytton which is powered only by the current of the river and then a short drive to the trailhead, the trail pays off immediately. The other end of the trail actually starts a 7 day hike away near Pemberton. But we cheated and saw what may be the prettiest parts right near the Eastern trailhead. Including some ancient aboriginal pictographs and the stunning green rushing river itself which challenged me to take a dip in its inviting waters.
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Posted by Doug Dosdall on August 17th, 2005 in Articles.
