Saturday, September 26, 2015

Green River

Once upon a time, long, long ago it seems, back in the 1970s, when I first drove into the Bella Coola valley, the pavement stopped a few miles out of Williams Lake. From there to the bottom of "The Hill", the road was dust and gravel; washboard, ruts, and dust traps deep enough to snap an axle, fish-tail-inducing powder, more dust; 400 kilometres of dust. Meeting a car coming the other way, we could see its dust cloud long before the car itself came over the next rise. We learned to hold our breath as we passed; even so, we were coughing mud for a day after we finally arrived.

The road has been paved, a few kilometres every year, so that now we drive comfortably on pavement up to the edge of Tweedsmuir Park, and then it's a mere 60 kilometres of dust before we reach the valley floor and pavement again.

Still, the memory persists, and the bridge at Green River promises some relief from dust, dust, dust. Coming and going, I always stop for a few minutes.

It's a gentle river, shallow and slow; the better to green up its surroundings.

Rock and reflections

View from the other side of the bridge.

In the shallow water, green speckled fish (trout?) hover over the silt.

Pine cone and needles


  1. Just the kind of river my dad used to love to fish. I remember trekking across many a meadow with him, returning with the mosquito bites to prove it. But those are fond memories. I've never driven into Bella Coola, but we flew in one and rented a car to go camping in the park. - Margy

  2. Nice trout!

    I have not fished in freshwater for many years.

  3. I have only fished in freshwater once, and I don't know the fish. But I love watching them!


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