Booners and berry creations

Thomas, Chris, Dan and I and bulging suitcases enroute to G.P. 

Just as I'm getting used to surprise weekend day(s) off, my exit is coming up. Usually the first one out, summer gems Thomas and Angie have already (and grudgingly, I think) left the north for school in southern locales.  Final night celebrations and ultimately tear-filled goodbyes around the fire, dessert table, sushi bar, and orgasmic Alberta pub served as a tiny tribute to true friends.  Their genuine East Coast hearts, smiles and kindness will be sorely missed.

Keen to show Dan a smattering of what I do, I packed him into my pickup for a journey down to one of my favourite areas, the Murray.  A Chetwynd resident for three years, Dan had yet to make the trip into Monkman Provincial Park to see Kineuso Falls.  Blown away by their late season volume, jealous of the river boaters at the base of the falls and curious about the fishing downstream assured me there'll be further visits.  

Dan's blueberry haul

While I zipped around the blocks checking for lammas growth, Dan grabbed an empty water bottle and collected as many blueberries as he could on the sandy pine flats.  Cleaned and sorted the following morning, he whipped up knock-out blueberry pancakes - nearly as good as my Saskatoon berry muffins.  

Saskatoon muffins turned out fabulous!

Rounding up another boat and another angler, The Mink made another appearance in a northern lake.  

Shaun captains while Colin fishes

A bit of running around on puzzle-like hydro roads eventually delivered us to Pete Lake, 38 kilometers up the Moberly.  Constrained my another engagement in town, it was a fast fish, but a good one!  Dan hooked up with a Rainbow but the wiley fella jumped the hook.  

Stern man Dan with the catch

I hooked into another, larger cousin of the escapee and was able to maneuver it into the waiting net.  My first trout as far as I know!

My Ragin Rainbow! 

Summer score: Sheri 8, Dan :0

Trout trials

Trout are tricky, Dan, Warren and I learned yesterday as we tried our luck at Heart and Azouzetta Lakes in the Pine Le Moray Provincial Park.

After a botched attempt with all three of us in the canoe that almost had us swimming fully clothed alongside the children, Warren and I paddled off leaving Dan to try his luck with his fly rod from shore.

 
Popular with day trippers and long weekend campers, Heart Lake was crowded by northern lake standards as children searched for shoreline frogs, fished from sinking docks and floated on tubes while the adults wisely stayed out of the chilly lake in favour of the lakeside picnic tables.

 Skunked there even after seeing a wee fry, we lunched, packed up and moved on to Azouetta.  A private lodge dominates the lake and restricts access.  We managed to find a Civic sized launch.

Learning our lesson that the Clipper has a weight/occupant restriction at Heart Lake, Dan and I had first go.







Flanked by stunning mountains and sandwiched between the highway and railline, it was gorgeous but hardly peaceful as transports and cargo laden railcars plodded past.

Tempting us with their acrobatics, the trout continued to elude us as we eventually accepted defeat and vowed to return another day.

Wondering where the fishies are

 Ahh, Azouetta

Stern man Dan 

 The Clipper precariously balanced on a dodgy launch

 Dan and Warren returning

Weekend fishing soured by motors

Alert, alert Fish Cops of Region 7B: there's poachers/cheaters zooming around on powered boats on Jackfish Lake northeast of Chetwynd, British Columbia.

Looking south down Jackfish

Whether these rogue fishermen zoomed to the far end of the lake, their wake pouring over the gunnels of a people powered canoe, to avoid the scarce enforcement officers or off to a known booner habitat on Saturday I'll never know as the unpredictable winds kept Dan and I harboured in sheltered bays and close to the launch.

Back on the fresh water after a four year hiatus, I was surprised when I hooked up after only an hour on the lake.  Used to fighting Bimini's13-pound barracudas, the northern pike offered comparatively little of a struggle.  Shrieks of excitement as the fish was landed, dehooked and photos snapped, I released it for another day.

Four more hours on the water under glorious sunshine and another four fish followed, my second hooked deeply in the guts.  Accustomed to staying with a shark doing poorly, we stayed with and swam the pike til it was sufficiently moving under its own power.

Content to paddle and keep the canoe from turning into a submarine, Dan experienced fishing on Jackfish vicariously through silence shattering squeals when I hooked up.  Not nearly as pervasive as the constant, full-on serenity wrecking motors about the lake, I was thrilled to be back on the water.  A fishing rod and reel I found on the Bearhole Lake FSR north of Tumbler Ridge last summer will be my instrument of choice this season as I hope to explore the many lakes and streams B.C. has to offer.

First pike 

 Second one, hooked deeply and bleeding.  We stayed with it til it satisfactorily swam off.  

 Prime bow location

 Stern man Dan having a go with his fly rod

Lovely loon 

Whoops!  Fish are slippery!

Pace of the paddle

The end of May Long and the start of Days Off mercifully overlapped for a day.  Understandably bagged out from fourteen day of transitioning from a Lady of Leisure back to a Wage Earning Sucker, I embraced a half day of lazy paddling with friends over the weekend.  

Dan strapped the Clipper to the Civic while friends Shaun and Angie successfully navigated us to Half Moon Lake, 45 minutes northeast of Chetwynd, with The Mink atop their outfit.  

We spotted the lake ages before we actually reached it along a south facing ridge.  The launch clearly visible, the dirt path through the aspen eventually delivered us there.  Sheltered from the little wind blowing, the birding was spectacular.  

Kingfishers, swans, red wing blackbirds and ducks sailed, hunted and flew around us as we glided through their homes.  An owl called from the woods while a cow moose and calf scurried up the slope to safety.  

Shaun and Angie leading the way 

 View from the ridge

Canoe-head Shaun 

View from the launch.  

We spotted the cow moose and her calf on that side slope

Dan and I  

 Swans sure make a racket when taking off!

Shaun and Angie leading us along the shoreline 

Lepidoptera eggies 

Same same but different in the boreal

A new job that's six weeks old, is an houred up version on my last one without the benefits of being payed for extra hours, requires me to live in hilariously close quarters with coworkers 300 km up the lake from Mackenzie on a genny-ridden river flat and occasionally ferries me around in a helicopter.  

Mercifully for all the tough slogging, hilarious access, and Work Safe BC violations, magnificent mountains views are abundant - even if climbing a 60 per cent slope through dense fir, alder and willow is occasionally required.  

As larch is shedding, the bunnies are digging out their winter coats and the bears are preparing for a winter's break, I too am looking for my exit.  Another 10-day shift near Tumbler Ridge, my honey's birthday and I am Edmonton, Red Deer, Calgary, but ultimately SE Asia bound after my usual months of Canadian employment. 

 Sukunka end of the Wolverine-Sukunka rail tunnel

 Yup, I can see a glacier from my block

Down the Wolverine valley

Abies balsamea cones

Down the Murray Furry FSR

Ribes spp.

 

Loo with a view

Loo with a view, version 2.0

Alaska in the fall

Ten days in confined spaces is the ultimate test of a friendship. Between contracts, and waiting for the school year to begin, I jumped in a friend's car with Cheryl and beelined it up to Alaska. Stealing a tarp on the way from a friend's relatives (mostly accidental) we made it as far as the Kenai Peninsula and while raining its guts out, we were able to appreciate our three non-rain days.    

I even slept on a picnic table in the Yukon on a rare clear night and let the stars be my blankie. Other highlights include being RIGHTTHERE when a humpback popped up beside the boat, and seeing a glacier calve. Whoa. Throw in some g-bears snacking on various stages of dying salmon, hilarious locals that ensured our pints weren't empty for long and stunning, dramatic scenery and we were two happy, if occasionally/consistently soggy, Canadians.