It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is taking photos.

Bella Coola trip, Part VI:

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V)

The sun always shines in Bella Coola in the summer time. Always. If anything, it's too hot, but the evenings are balmy and long; the sun sets well after 9:00, and dusk lingers on for another hour. Perfect photography weather.

So I told Laurie.

Promises, promises.

It rained off and on that first day; we drove down valley, but saw no mountain peaks because of the cloud cover. We went to the wharf, but it was raining too much to hike to Clayton Falls.

Photo from Nusatsum House B&B.

We did stop briefly near Thorsen Creek, where eagles often are perched on snags visible from the highway.


See what I mean about cloud cover? There are tall, snowy peaks and waterfalls behind all that whiteness.

By supper time, it was raining steadily. And it kept up most of the week. Still, we were there to see the valley; we went out doggedly next morning into the weather.

Saloompt Mountain (pronounced Salumpt) is on the north side of the river. There is a story told about this mountain; once, long ago, when there was a big flood that filled the valley, a chief herded his people onto a raft and tied his rope around a notch in the peak of the Saloompt until the water went down. You can see the mark of the rope to this day.

We didn't see it. But we did get out of the car at the Bailey bridge over the river, to look at the mist. I had found an umbrella, and I held it over Laurie's head while he took photos, getting good and wet myself.

Logs floating down the river, mist and rain.

And a fisherman in rain gear, as insane as we were, standing at the base of the bridge on the far side, casting for trout. He saw us watching him and waved; hail, friend! Isn't this fun?

Good weather for a rainforest, though. The lichen and mosses love it.

Still, we enjoyed our stay. We found little artist's galleries here and there. I bought dried pine mushrooms to make pine mushroom butter for potlucks at home. We managed to see one glacier. Looking for a place up-valley where Laurie could get a drink of water, we ran into an unadvertised shop where a man carved burls into fantastic shapes. We went up to Burnt Bridge and found mushrooms and heard the rocks that always rumble down the creek, the mountain gradually falling into the valley.

And a week later, on a rainy, drizzly morning, we caught the ferry south. And it poured the entire journey.

Oh, but the sun came out, gloriously, for our return down Vancouver Island. That's next post.