May 1st

15c sunny and a bit of haze.
I wasn't going to add the next part of "My Cathedral" until tomorrow but I will be working at an election poll tomorrow so will be gone for the day from before 6 am till about 8pm.
Here in Canada, Elections Canada recruits citizens to work at the polls, the pay is good, it's tax free and it
is a public service. The down side  - it's a long day.
Today will be our first day of outdoor bowls, the green is looking good and everyone is excited about getting outside again.
I'm thinking I will start a new photo series on the side bar called The Town where I Live. But not today.
It's great to see the variety of locations where visitors to this site are from.  I had them all listed here a moment ago but the computer must have had a "senior" moment. Oh well another time

Last of Cathedral

Part 3

T

his all happened in 1958 and 1959.  In the early spring of 1960, I was transferred from McBride.  It would be seven years before I returned.  Not to McBride, but to Valemount another hamlet just to the east.  During the years changes had been made in Ranger District boundaries and part of McBride had been split off and added to the Valemount District.  I went to Valemount in February 1967 as the Ranger in charge.  My most westerly boundary was the height of land past Horsey Creek!

 It was the usual custom for newly appointed Rangers to be flown around and over their district in order to obtain a visual feel for their administrative area.  Because of the ruggedness and the many valleys that was the character of my district, I postponed my flight until early summer and then used a helicopter instead of a fixed wing aircraft.

 It was late June, fire season wasn’t quite upon us but the snow levels were well receded and spring had come even to the higher elevations.  We first flew down the Canoe Valley, then up and across the mountains over the very headwaters of the Fraser River where it was but a soggy spot on a mountain slope, thence down the Fraser where it empties into and leaves from Moose Lake, around Mt. Robson and then up and across several valleys of assorted sizes and came to the headwaters of Horsey Creek

 It was beautiful! Barren areas of glacial till small patches of spruce, peaks on either side swept clear of snow and polished rock glistening in the sun!  We followed down the valley and after a few minutes below us was the fork!  After seven and a half years the attraction was no less!  I signaled to the pilot to turn and go higher.  He did and within moments I was looking down on the very spot where I had rested in disappointment so long ago.  The pilot’s voice in my headphones was asking where now?  I didn’t speak; I just pointed ahead and raised my thumb for more elevation.

 As we came up over the top of my waterfall we saw in a half moon shape a small glacier, protruding on either side were two sloping shoulders of solid rock and from the glacier’s heart flowed a stream.  The stream ran down the slope and over a small cliff into a lake of milky water!  Above the lake and beside the stream was a flat rock surface of perhaps 300 by 50 feet, I didn’t hesitate, I said put her down, put her down there!

 We circled; he felt for wind and downdraft, then turned again and settled onto the surface of the mountain. I gestured with a cutting motion across my throat and he turned the switch and silence surrounded us.  We got out, and moved over to the edge where the cliff fell away to the water below.  I told him briefly about those other years and then I moved away to sit by myself.  He seemed to understand and found his own place to look about.

 I sat there, did I have thoughts or did I just let my eyes and my mind absorb that place?  It was so quiet, even the breeze that flowed down and off the glacier behind us moved on moccasoned feet. The stream from the glacier moved silently through and over the schist.  I could see where the stream flowed out of the lake down to the valley below, soundless.

 Here was a place to worship beauty, peace and solitude and I did.

 After some time, it could only have been a few minutes, I realized we must go, I turned my head and looked at the pilot and he nodded, yes we must.  As I rose to my feet I looked down and across the lake and on its far edge I saw a movement.  Then from amongst the short mountain balsam that grew there, out stepped one, two, three woodland Caribou, two cows and a bull! They paused looked about and then as quickly as they had appeared they were gone!  The pilot had seen them too; he grinned at me and just gave a shrug, what could he have said?

 We climbed aboard, started the engine and took off, with no word or look being exchanged we headed straight away, no circling, we just left.

 When I was dropped off in Valemount, I started to say the customary: “thanks for the flight”, but he stopped me with a gesture and said: “ No, I thank you”.

 I’ve never been back and I never will and that is good.  I had an experience that cannot be repeated except that I can relive it over and over and each time that I do it is that time.