Thanksgiving in the Cariboo Chilcotin.

Ventured up to visit folks for Thanksgiving this past weekend (note for global readers, Canadian Thanksgiving falls in October to reflect our harvest time, and so it doesn't clash with Remembrance Day in November).  Stayed with a nice couple, with a very quiet son and a very licky puppy, and had a huge feast of traditional turkey, mashed potatos, gravy, stuffing, fresh bread, beans, carrots, corn, a lovely cranberry wine we'd brought from Nova Scotia, and lemon meringue pie for dessert.





Had a great time with good company, but the most memorable part for me was the drive - to, from, and around the Fraser canyon and the Cariboo Chilcotin Coast (though we didn't hit the Coast part).  Leaving the lush Pacific rainforest and exotic sakura trees in Vancouver, we find a different land in the interior canyons and plateau.  The green gave way to bright candy yellow birches along lakes and ponds.  The grasses were pale green, shocking yellow, tawny brown, dead-stick grey, and a silvery blonde that shone brilliantly in the direct sun, a contrast to the black cows grazing in the fields.  This is ranch country.

A daytrip to Junction Sheep Range Provincial Park; we didn't see any animals but the land was beautiful, and we were lucky to have a perfect blue sky.  Desert sagebrush and a few stubborn Douglas firs held the hillsides stable, more blonde grass covered the distant benches like velvet, and the slopes carved and fell into hoodoos and cliffs the ribbon road wove around.

A new scene around every hairpin turn, the soil itself a dull powder grey but sculpted into such forms as to make play of the strong desert light and shadow.  I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't have to trek all the way to Alberta to see hoodoos (though I will - another trip for another time).  The Chilcotin River was turquoise here, fringed with yellow birches, standing out like a shock against the grey.

This is but a sample of my photos shown here, I don't take photos as often as some folks do but felt like capturing the moment.  'Twas a nice moment.  I'll revisit there someday, but know that one can never truly go back.

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." - Heraclitus






We took the highway northeast to make good time, but chose the back roads to return home.  Good thing we had a map and GPS, and a fella who's been there before...
Alkali Lake is a native reserve community, we didn't see anyone there, and even the horses and dogs were quiet.  Peacefully quiet.  It was so quiet it was _silent_, rare even for nature.  One duck quacked.  One crow cawed.  The lake was mirror still and would've made a perfect picnic spot had it been further along our journey, but we still had a long way to go...



...of long looping stretches of gravel road, steep hill climbs and descents, golden velvet grassy benches (with the occasional tree), and barely any other cars around for miles.  We had run out of cow pastures awhile ago, though there were still fences lining the road perhaps for open range grazing...? Not a cow to be seen.  Just a vast expanse of dry hot land, populated with whatever organisms can eek out an existence here.

We meandered back to the Fraser canyon, the colors fading back into the muted grey and pale sage green, the river itself muddy brown. Looking back we could see the distance travelled over hours, was just over there on the horizon. We stopped on a little bridge that seemed to go nowhere other than the small community of Gang Ranch and its little airport.



Some other travellers that had passed us earlier were on that bridge, and informed us that the safety gate to the walkway underneath, undoubtedly intended only for maintenance use, had been left unlocked!  Thus down I went, tricky with a long scarf and camera in hand, just for the sake of saying I was there.  Who knows when I'll be out that way again? The catwalk was no more or less dummyproofed than the topside intended for traffic, and there was little to keep people from falling or jumping into the quiet-yet-fast Fraser below. 
Clearly I did neither, and instead we carried on down the road in search of a picnic spot for a late lunch, on through miles till it was decided that any patch of desert will do.  Sandwiches, meat+cheese+crackers, trail mix and a fresh apple each.  In the time it took to have lunch only one car passed.  Again the silence.  Thankfully no rattlesnakes.

We had spent most of the day weaving around this desert canyon travelling not very far or fast, so while we continued on the gravel backroads we dawdled less.  We were losing daylight too.  The land changed as we headed south - patches of young trees in formerly logged areas or under power lines, mixed forest, buildings, cows - and climbed in elevation where *gasp!* there was snow on the ground.  Getting cold, time to put the top up on the convertible.  Crept up a 14% grade logging road, all hairpin turns and blind corners, and thankfully no logging truck hurtling towards us in the opposite direction.  Thankful for pavement finally in Pavilion.  Reached the highway in Lillooet around the same time the fading daylight made photography not worthwhile, early sunset in a steep-walled canyon.  Carried into more familiar mountainous land along Duffy Rd, the evergreen forest even darker in dusk.  Lost the last light of day shining pink off the snowy peak just beyond Pemberton.  Someday we'll take the trip up again in daylight, though I was thankful enough for the warm car to get us home safely.     

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!