Thursday, May 27th
Here Comes the Rain Again
If I had a million dollars, if I had a million dollars,
If I had a million dollars, if I had a million dollars,
If I had a million dollars, I’d be rich.— Barenaked Ladies, If I Had a Million Dollars.
Grey clouds high up in the air is all that is left from the rain that came through overnight. As I drive out of town, I come by the city centre. Its entrance is marked by a stone-and-metal arc bearing the city’s name. Across is the railway station. Since the disappearance of the passenger services along the Canadian Pacific Railway, it has turned into a railway yard. The old passenger terminal is now Canada’s largest railway museum. Parked outside are two complete historical trains for visiting.
The highway I am now taking is termed the Crowsnest Highway. It runs through the south of both Alberta and British Columbia passing between the two provinces at Crowsnest Pass. It’s highway shield, naturally, features a crow. At least in BC it doesn’t go in a straight line but rather ventures north and south a lot.
British Columbia may term itself the ‘best place on Earth,’ but as far as driving goes, it is the worst of the Canadian provinces. There is always only one highway between places with no alternative back-country routes. The routes do exist but it is not clear from the map whether they are paved or not. Being rather densely populated, there is a lot of traffic along the roads. Specifically, there are millions of trucks and half the population seems to believe that doing 85 km/h along a highway limited to a hundred is perfectly fine. Due to local geography, roads are hardly ever straight, making overtaking a stressful, long procedure. And, of course, as soon as you have finally passed one vehicle, you are free for about a kilometre before winding up behind another one.
I take the prairies over this any time, even though the landscape here is rather lovely. The road leads through a deep valley with mountains beset with forests on each side. Later it moves up a bit and passes along a lake. River, lake and a village are all called Moyie. The village, stemming from 1893 and calling itself historic nonetheless, is basically a railway station by the lake. It has a couple of, well, historic buildings, among them a pub in a half-timbered house.
We cross the railway on a bridge and I can see a black bear standing on the railway tracks looking interested in both directions. A trainspotting bear? Where would he keep his notebook, then? Outside the village of Yahk (it isn’t that bad) is Hay-U Ranch, which should be fined for its name.
Thereafter the road to the U.S. turns off. It is a mere ten kilometres to the border with Idaho. The sign for the Crowsnest Highway declares it a scenic route and the shortest route to the coast. Which isn’t saying much, though.
This here is the Kitchener Valley, a name rather popular in Canada. This is mostly due to British Field Marshal Herbert Horatio Kitchener. He was war minister during the beginning of World War I and got killed in 1916, when people were still enthusiastic. Subsequently, his name was rather popular. The town of Berlin, Ontario renamed itself to Kitchener in 1916. Similarly, Mount Douglas in the Canadian Rockies became Mount Kitchener in the same year.
The village of Erickson, right outside of Creston, bears the slogan ‘Come grow with us.’ This area seems to be fruit farming country. There are many apple orchards and by-from-the-grower fruit shops,
The town of Creston is quite a bit ahead of Prince George in its downtown project. They have redone Main Street with a some plantings and trees. Architecture starts off boring enough, though, but if you keep going, you find some nice old houses towards the end. Unsurprisingly, they contain souvenir and arts and craft stores. The rest of town already has lots of trees everywhere, with the chestnut trees in bloom.
After Creston, the original Crowsnest Highway runs north along Kootenay Lake and crosses it by means of a ferry before coming down again. In the sixties, however, a shortcut route across Kootenay Pass was build. First, it crosses the wide, flat Kootenay valley by means of a dam and two bridges. Then it turns right and then left and climbs up the valley of Summit Creek.
Up there is a big caribou warning sign. Right after the pass follows a bighorn sheep warning sign. Seems each side has its specific fauna. The descent is quite steep. First it goes down 8% for six kilometres, and then another six kilometres with 6%. It is rather straight, though. I remember driving down the southern side of San Bernardino pass in Switzerland once in darkness and fog. That was, well, interesting.
Once down, you actually have a choice for once. You can either go the direct route via Castlegar or take a scenic detour. Naturally, I choose the detour. It first leads to Fruitvale, ‘the heart of Beaver Valley,’ which has a lot of small houses and at least two pubs. A good town then. Then follows Beaver Falls (I am pretty sure the sign read Beaver Balls). Finally, there is Montrose, ‘gateway to Beaver Valley.’
Montrose sits on a ridge right above Columbia Valley and after it you have to go down maybe fifty metres. Below it is the town of Columbia Gardens which features a winery, the first BC winery I see.
The Columbia river seems to be very productive around here. It has dug itself a valley within the valley. The area here actually looks a lot like northern Italy, somewhere in Piemont maybe. A wide river cluttered with buildings on each side, high green valley walls, frequently built upon, too. The commercial buildings are equally ugly, only the residential houses are of a completely different style.
The town of Trail is marked by large mining factory sitting on a ridge where the highway crosses the Columbia River. The town itself seems to consist mostly of street intersections. Hardly one building fits between each of them.
The road climbs out of the valley with a series of rather made curves and thus reaches the village of Rossland. Its main street runs along the mountain site and consists exclusively of pretty, old buildings. It used to be a gold mining town but has transformed itself into a resort town. Above town is the Red Mountain Ski Area, which has a resort village all of its own. To get there, the road had to be blasted through big rocks. On top of one of these is Rock Cut Restaurant.
Then follows wilderness. The road re-unites with the direct alignment and together they climb yet another mountain range by way of the Bonanza Pass. Going down, the highway crosses the McRae Creek on the huge Paulson Bridge.
Eventually, it arrives at the village of Christina Lake, which is a couple of small houses in the woods by a lake, surprisingly enough called Christina Lake. It starts to rain and, by the looks of it, doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon. Despite that, the landscape looks rather dry. The valley walls have only few trees, mostly brown grass.
Grand Forks is a most lovely town. It doesn’t start all the great with a mobile home park, but that is followed by a Victorian building on top of a hill calling itself the Golden Heights Restaurant and claiming to have the best meals in town. The town is overlooked by its own private mountain, a round-headed affair. There is a river bridge followed by Grand Forks Hotel, which greets its guests in Russian and promises Russian food. Downtown appears to be a collection of old buildings along a tree-lined street. The road out of town is tree-lined, too. Residencies are set back from the street and have large gardens. This is probably most enjoyable in better weather.
I stop at a super market called Overwaitea Foods (apparently indeed named for over-weight tea as they sold eighteen ounces of tea for the price of a pound [if this doesn't mean anything to you, don't worry, it doesn't mean anything to me either]). Then I drive on and stop at a rest area by a lake for lunch.
The next town is Greenwood. The Greenwood Motel has a German and a Swiss flag flying. As this is a bit too much sucking up, I won’t stop. Next is Midway, mostly a border town with the US. It has a Mile Zero post, which apparently belongs to the Kettle Valley Rail Trail, a cycle path following the old Kettle Valley Railroad starting in Midway.
Beyond Midway, the landscape takes on a decidedly Swiss character. There are floating, grass-beset mountains with little farm houses here and there. Unfortunately, the rain gets a lot worse. Since the road isn’t in best conditions, I have to concentrate on driving and cut back on the sightseeing.
Finally, the road turns into a proper mountain road to descend into Okanagan valley. It runs at 8% for 8 km with a couple of rather hairy pins. On the most tight curve, a solid concrete barrier has been erected for the downhill lane. As it has several scratch marks, it appears to be necessary.
The town of Osoyoos marks the end of Okanagan valley, at least for BC. It is utterly touristy with lots of motels, hotels, and resorts, and the Rattlesnake Canyon amusement park. Okanagan valley is Canada’s most famous wine region and has a rather warm and dry climate. The landscape looks decidedly Californian and so does Osoyoos. You really think you are somewhere south of San Francisco a bit inland. Main Street is a wide street with angled parking and lined with single-storey buildings.
Repeatedly, I come across signs saying ‘no national park.’ Given the strict conservational rules for national parks, having a park in such a settled area really doesn’t make any sense, despite the fact that this landscape is definitely special.
The road climbs out of Okanagan valley and into the next valley which has an even less pronounceable name: Similkameen valley. A group of four people bicycles along the road through the driving rain. There is always people who have it worse.
By way of Keremeos, where they grow fruit again, and Hedley, an old Gold rush town, I reach Princeton. I fuel up the car here and drive on. Not that I want to, any more, but I want to reach the freeway by the end of the day, so that I only have one day of ruined driving.
Having turned north for a bit to reach Princeton, the road now goes south again. It is around 120 kilometres to the freeway across Hozameen Range and through E. C. Manning Provincial Park. Luckily, for large parts the road features a four-lane design. But the strong rain keeps driving a rather arduous exercise. A sign points to wildlife viewing. Well, in this weather I’d rather not see any wildlife whatsoever.
At the end of the park lies Sunshine Valley. Speaking of irony. The road reaches the freeway at the town of Hope. I had planned to drive on a bit further, to Chilliwack or Abbotsford even, but actually, ending the day in Hope sounds like the exactly right thing to do. There are plenty of motels to choose from. I pick the one with the most plants out front, on the reckoning that an owner who bothers with gardening also keeps the rooms in shape. Seems to work, too. Right next door is a little family run restaurant, where I award myself for making it through the day with a nice hamburger.
So, there. Hope.
Beer of the day: Okanagan Spring Pale Ale (a fresh ale from BC’s largest craft brewery)