ADVENTURE & HISTORY IN BRITISH COLUMBIA, VOLUME ONE
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From Chapter 3, A Peak in the Bugaboos
... The mountain air was crisp and cool. Some people are most at home along the oceans, others are in love with the grasslands of the prairies. For me there is no place as inspiring as being among remote mountain peaks. We stood in the middle of that great amphitheatre headlining the Spires; the scenery was incredible. The lead role was unequivocally granted to the Howser Spire: at almost 3400 meters it was a mammoth. There were no ridges, there were no vistas, just endless cliff faces: too steep for even snow to accumulate. In supporting roles, to the right, almost one half a kilometer less in height, but no less enrapturing, was Howser Peak, and tucked in between the two behemoths was the Bugaboo Glacier, barely visible above the tree tips at the trail’s end. Over millions of years, erosive mountain weather and glacial ice forces have ground the granite into the shapes we admired that day. As we stood and watched, I felt anew, what a little figure humankind presents in our great Wilderness and how short our stay on this planet has been so far.
From Chapter 8, To Rose Pass or Not to Pass
... The mother with her shiny, black fur coat sat perched on the side of the trail thirty feet ahead. She let out another huff as she arched her head slightly skyward, similar to a wolf howling. The sow’s bruin suddenly took flight again, disappearing into the underbrush as quickly as it had appeared. I shut the engine off. Keera was sitting behind us in the cab; she let out a thin whimper. Her ears were straight as poles, her eyes focused intently on the mother bear. Instinct took over and our Shepherd remained quiet, though keenly observant, able to discern between perceived and actual danger. For the next fifteen minutes the black bear regularly let out her warnings. She often stood man-like on her hind legs, her gaze alert, her nose lifted up. She incessantly sniffed for danger, while her head rhythmically swept from side to side. She could not smell us inside the vehicle and she was obviously unsure how to proceed. All the same, she did not want her cub anywhere near us. Eventually, she calmed down, sat still for a while, and then, completely unhurried, sauntered into the trees. Now unseen to us, we heard her call a few more times. Her cub replied with a healthy ‘bawl’ and all was quiet in the neighbourhood of the woods again.
From Chapter 8, To Rose Pass or Not to Pass
... The truck paused briefly, as if I had pulled in on the reins, the front right tire lifted itself into the air, and, after it landed heavily on top of the root, the entire vehicle then bounced out of control to the left. I was in trouble. I had hit the root with too much speed. The truck was going over on its side. I fought the ridiculous instinct to put my hand out the open window to brace the truck’s fall. I gripped the steering wheel, felt myself tense up and closed my eyes. My world became quiet.
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"Get ready to four-wheel across some spellbinding landscapes and intriguing history. Riel is a keen guide as he winches to summits, pans for gold or soaks in a hidden hot spring. B.C.'s backcountry beckons."
Mark Forsythe
BC Almanac
CBC Radio
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