New Denver, Slocan Valley, B.C. June 2, 1978

Hot soup with chunks of charcoal. That's what’s on the menu when you make soup in a pot with no lid over an open fire.  Tonight I’m just north of New Denver in the Slocan Valley. I thought this might be a quiet, out­of-the-way camping spot, but it’s the week-end, and the weather is fine, so the place is packed.  Lots of families with young kids.  And just as Mary and Gerry had warned, everyone’s building ‘fires too big’, making ‘too much noise’, and ‘letting their kids run amok‘.  I may not be here long… .

 

It was another scorcher today. I left Midway fairly early and drove straight through to Grand Forks. Rural, Doukhobor country.  Garlic and potatoes.  Houses still covered in tar-paper, apparently a tax-avoidance strategy.  A pleasant, sleepy, 'we's jes' folks' kind of place with a river running through it.  Could be a good location for a movie…. .

 

Drove on up through rolling light conifer forest to Christina Lake. Stopped for a coffee and sat outside talking to the ‘waitress' (I was the only customer) about a fashion design course she’s planning to take in Vancouver. She recommended I make a stop at Christina Lake beach, a beautiful spot, and usually pretty quiet.  As it was almost mid-day, I thought I might spend an hour or two there, have some lunch, maybe read a book.  But it was so quiet and beautiful there that time had its way with me.  I was sorry I couldn’t stay there the night, but the ‘No Overnight Camping’ signs were pretty clear. 



 


So I headed on up the road to Castlegar, another sleepy Doukhobor town nestled in the Kootenay hills.  Spent a fair bit of time driving around, ‘sight-seeing,’ then faced the inevitable next decision: north or south?  



     Kootenay River near Castlegar



I decided to head to the Slocan Valley, which has always intrigued me, and which did not disappoint.  Indeed it far surpassed my expectations.  Such magnificent scenery, absolutely magnificent, everywhere you look. Had my camera out all afternoon. Snap; cows by a quiet flowing river under some poplars.  Snap: an old derelict barn overlooking rolling farmland and another sleepy green stream. Snap: a couple of fishboats down by the Slocan mill -- with a backdrop of snow­capped mountains behind. Snap.  Snap.  Snap.




 


I can easily understand the attraction of the Slocan. Despite persistent efforts by B,C. Hydro to spoil and scar the landscape (the valley is criss-crossed by three or more transmission lines),the Slocan still manages to maintain its soft, pristine serenity, almost as though it has somehow transcended all that industrial nonsense. 

Old guys out ploughing. Kids swinging towels around, making happy flag-patterns in the air as they saunter back from the old swimmin' hole’. Little League games in community diamonds -- all the parents there cheering them on. Women in long skirts. Friendly faces, a passing wave. Or a honk. And always a smile. So of course I couldn’t help but smile myself as I drove along, singing along with Randy Newman, at the top of my lungs, not caring who heard.  And why not?  

Location: Slocan, BC V0G, Canada

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