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By Wendy Perry
Gravitational pull has always been a big question to me. How does the moon effect
the tides, people, and animals of our planet? How does one’s soul gravitate
to a geographic area? By pull of course. You know when you’ve been sucked
into a geographical gravitational pull. Your feet, the extension of yourself that
grounds you to this planet, feel like they are stuck to the ground by a strong,
emotionally-charged invisible cable. This is how I ended up in the Bulkley Valley.
I was counseled on our plane ride by my new friend, a long time Smithers resident,
that the highest point on Hudson Bay Mountain has a guest book I should sign.
You’ve earned it, he chortled, his icy blue eyes filled with past memories
of his own achievements at the peak. He spoke of the glaciers he hiked up to since
he was a boy. He told me that when you are near a glacier, you can hear the singing
voices of those frozen in time, and that you can see them if you happen to be
there when the northern lights shine. I wanted to go there, it sounded magical.
I have since found out that he was right.
From the moment I landed in Smithers I just knew I was going to stay here forever.
The airport itself is quaint but it is the majestic view right out the front doors,
that makes one want to hurry up to see, do, feel, smell, taste and touch it all.
There are no line-ups, no traffic jams, but lots of hugs, smiles and tears from
travellers happy to be back home again.
I’m enjoying Lake Kathlyn in the foreground with a backdrop that you see
on postcards; the snow capped Hudson Bay Mountain Range. I can’t move. I
want to drink in all the beauty I am beholding. Will this go away if I blink?
Not a chance; it is there to explore and I will, leaving no trace.
On our way to my new home our taxi driver had waved, with waves returned, to almost
every passing vehicle. It was a warming feeling I was feeling - this was home.
It has been 20 years since I first came to this valley. I have stepped where intrusion
isn’t present, except for the numerous wild animals that cross our paths.
They leave their footprints as reminders that this is their land, like the handprints
at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, only a little more valuable. I am fortunate
to see this on a daily basis as I venture out on foot or horseback to explore
my back yard in the Bulkley Valley.
Sometimes it is a tough decision which direction to explore. Some adventures are
better taking the family. Some are more about spiritual well-being and need to
be solitary. Some days you want to get as high as possible, some days you want
to stay closer to valley bottom and the Bulkley River. Either way, it would take
a lifetime to see and do it all. That I can live with, just give me life.
Trekking to the tops of area peaks is a unique thrill. Many mountains in our valley
have blessed us with their beauty and ruggedness, helping us to feel the powerful
forces of nature. As you trek towards the top, your thoughts are different than
those before you entered this world. Now your mind will conscientiously focus
on the air, the smells, the trees and plants with their colorful flowers and berries,
the mosses, the ferns, the mushrooms, wildlife tracks and scat. Occasionally you
get glimpses of a higher world that will soon be under your feet.
You come upon a waterfall, picture perfect in every way, with a carpet of wild
flowers atop moss covered ground and rocks, leading you to its base. It is the
soft, beautiful bumper that keeps all the water from overflowing its edges, navigating
the landscape in a way nature intended. That is when you can actually feel how
close you have come to natural perfection. Quite eye fatiguing really but that
is a good thing.
Depending which range you trek up, I feel it is the rocks that make the mountain
what it really is, they really tell the story. We have found insect, fern and
fish fossils in our area. Our mountains are our storytellers from the past; they
hold compacted memories and energies. As you pass through a pink puddle, which
is not pink because of pollution but because of rock content, the color of nature
has fooled your eyes again. It makes me smile.
The caribou, mountain goats, bears, moose, deer, wolves, coyotes and marmots are
the navigation experts, watching us from their own environment, as we try to catch
glimpses of them. They allow us a brush with nature but they are gone instantly
when they feel we are a threat.
Nearing the top of the mountain, the wind is now blowing through your hair with
such a velocity that even the curliest hair sticks straight out. A northerner’s
facelift, temporary results, but everlasting memories.
The top of the mountain is larger than life and one is tiny by comparison. Mother
Nature could blow you away at her whim. Not a chance, too much to see and do in
this life and I still need to find another mountaintop to climb.
I descend, absorbing everything like a sponge needing to retain all this in my
memory cells. These memories will somehow be passed on from my generation to the
next, as it was given to me. As one never knows which are ones last days on our
precious planet, I want to be sure that if I never make it up there again physically,
I can mentally.
Driving home now seems very minuscule but how could it not after such an adventure.
As I cross the Bulkley River bridge I glance down at the clear water with its
swirls, twirls and currents of adventure. It seems to be pulling my imagination
to follow an adventure of a more liquid kind but no not to the pub overlooking
the river. I think I will call a friend when I get home, she has a two-person
raft, and maybe I can tag a ride with her. She will lazily float the river, fly-rod
and special hand crafted flies in hand, searching for a fight, with an illusive
silver steelhead fish - weighing just about as much as her. Yes, that is what
I will do tomorrow. I am so fortunate to be gravitationally pulled to the Bulkley
Valley.
Wendy Perry is married with three kids who are all at that awkward age between
birth and moving out. Her family lives on a ranch near Smithers. During the winter
months Wendy and Tess (riding Coco on this Common Ground cover) can be found galloping
their horses over miles of snow-covered fields. Another winter priority is cross-country
skiing in the wildlife-rich back 40, which borders endless Crown land trails.
Snow shoeing in the mountains and following creek beds is an addictive sport the
family enjoys throughout the winter, with the odd day of downhill skiing on the
local Hudson Bay Mountain ski hill.
Wendy is busy in the summer with her tourism job, travelling the whole Northwest
BC, through the Lakes District, up the Cassiar Highway, and to the Queen Charlotte
Islands, where the beauty of nature abounds. As a rodeo photographer, she tries
to catch a few of the northern rodeos, where the scenery is eye fatiguing in a
different manner. Late summer is the best time to ride or hike up the mountain
ranges in the Bulkley Valley where breathtaking views are filled with wild flowers
and mountain ranges in every direction, pleasing both the eyes and the soul. Late
fall is the season to be on the clear blue Bulkley River, where the water magnifies
images of fish and river rocks.
To contact Wendy regarding photos for sale you can email her at theperrys@bulkley.net,
write to Box 3987, Smithers, BC, V0J 2N0 or call 250-847-9137. For more information
about Bulkley Valley contact the Smithers Chamber of Commerce at 250-847-5072.
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