I drove north towards one of the largest and most pristine parks in BC, if not Canada: the Wells Gray Provincial Park in the Thompson Region. It harbours 540,000 hectares of towering mountains, cavernous gorges, alpine meadows, moss covered cedars, and spectacular waterfalls.
Helmken Falls, one in a series of dramatic waterfalls of the same river which joins the Thompson River a few thousand feet further down. These Falls are three times as high as Niagara Falls.
Dawson Falls, a perfectly symmetrical waterfall in Wells Gray.
Spahat Falls in Wells Gray
White water rafting anyone?
I headed south again, back towards Clearwater...Wells Gray Park appeared as of now unaffected by the ravages of the mountain pine beetle, it may just be a matter of time, before it succumbs as well. In the meantime it remains lush, verdant, healthy ad gloriously green.
Outside of the Park this blight has destroyed thousands and thousands of hectares of pine forests. The destruction progresses from a 'green' stage, where the bug starts to invade the tree and cuts the water supply off. Then the tree enters a 'grey' stage, where the dying process has started in earnest. Finally the trees turn a brownish black, the trunks are blotchy, and just a sad skeleton is left behind. Billions of upright tree carcasses cover the mountains.
The beetles use wind to spread further and further, nothing but extreme frost for a lengthy period of time could kill them.
The dead trees are being harvested in many places, nothing much else one could do. The logging industry uses them for OSB (orientated strand board) manufacture.
Lac La Roche - calm and covered in water lilies.
I drove on to Little Fort, where a small ferry crosses the Thompson River to connect a First Nation Reserve as well as a number of farms with civilization. CN railway workers use it also to get across to the rail tracks for maintenance work.
In summer, when the river currents have abated, the ferry man uses an outboard motor and a 2x6 board to position the ferry against the ramps on the river bank. It is connected to a number of overhead cables upstream, which keep it from getting swept away.
The ferry man, with the best mustache in all of Little Fort. He said, though, that "I have not seen the other ones in town - population 200".
He said;"When the current is high, I can just position the ferry with the 2x6 against the ramps, don't ever use the outboard."
"Do you transport cattle as well," I asked him.
"Yes," he said, "we do that in trucks now. We used to just herd them onto the ferry and close the gate. But one day, something spooked a load of cows, they all ran to one side, the ferry tipped and sank. Since then we take them on trucks."
Biffy Art ...
Biffy Art ...
On Tuesday, I headed north via Williams Lake and Quesnel to Wells and Barkerville, both historic gold mining towns. Wells actually still has active commercial goldpanning going on.
A little quote from the days of the Cariboo Goldrush. At todays prices per ounce, this little plate full would fetch quite a bundle.
Barkerville is today a living museum town. The old buildings have been restored, some stores rekindling the goldrush spirit are open, no longer selling flour, jerky, and gold panning supplies, but coffees, snacks, souvenirs, and waggon rides. The old theatre presents vaudeville, and the 'villagers' wear period costume. There is a church, a postoffice, a historic hotel (open for 21st century business in a 19th century setting), a saloon, and a 'China town'.
All of the buildings maintain their historic character, even as far as furnishing is concerned, and many house mini museums showcasing bygone lifestyles, gold prospecting, and historic transportation means. Barkerville is 'at the end of the road' and access for a long time was by ox-carts.
Today, the main drag is still edged on both sides by board walks (the creek would overflow in spring an turn the village streets into rivers of mud). Stagecoaches, drawn by heavy horses, take visitors through the hard packed dirt streets of Barkerville.
An old log cabin beside a gravel shute
Waggon wheels amongst wildflowers
Mr Barker of Barkerville. He used to be a canal man in Britain before coming out to Canada to find his El Dorado. And he struck it rich in Barkerville, sold his claim for a fortune and lived in style in Victoria for a while. He died in poverty....one reason was a young wife, who spent copius amounts of his wealth before she died in 1865, the other was his legendary generosity. He used to 'loan' money to down and out gold panners, and never asked for his loans to be returned.
Barkerville log cabin in a summer garden setting.
I drove back to Wells, just a few kilometers back from Barkerville. It is a real town, however, some of the historic buildings are still in use, and some are being lovingly restored.
Wells historic building - under restauration
Wells - porch of a little gift store
Wells, another little store that sells souvenirs, crafts and tours to the active goldmine in town.
Cemetry between Barkerville and Wells....many ancient gold digger found his last resting place right here.
And back on lovely Sheridan Lake....
with a final rush......click on the icon and hear nature....
