There's Unwritten History On This River
We opted for the free ferry across Kootenay Lake as our route out of Nelson. That’s because we’d read something about a serious mountain climb if we went south and continued along the Crowsnest Highway. And sure enough, a trip to the visitor’s center for info confirmed that the Kootenay Pass is the highest mountain pass in North America. We definitely didn’t want to put Kitty Kitty Bang Bang through that and risk blowing out our engine, so we instead took "the world's longest free ferry" (35 minutes, in case you were curious) across Kootenay Lake.
Balfour Ferry Terminal
When we landed, we drove first to a small trail that led to the pilot bay lighthouse. Unfortunately, we couldn't climb the inside of the lighthouse because of covid. But the views were just stunning. Afterwards we headed south and made the drive that winds along the lake, which is such a scenic drive. We stopped at one of the beaches to take it all in and it was just so quiet and still. There was a real sense of peace with those mountains all around us. So beautiful.
Then mountains gave way to a valley of farmland as we approached Creston, where we stopped for supplies. By then it was nearing 7, so time to look for a campsite. I found us free camping along the river. (I’m so thankful for a couple of websites we’ve been using, we’ve found half of our sites from them and none have been a disappointment so far.) The long, bumpy detour to our destination proved worth the effort once we arrived. There were a half a dozen sites or so, all right by the gorgeous river and with their own fire pits. Heaven.
Some people looked like they were already settled in there. We picked our spot and once we settled in, one of our fellow campers came over to introduce himself. Our 60-year-old neighbor is up here for the summer prospecting. He's lived in the area for 54 years, and before that his family came over from Italy in the early 1900s. ("Actually, they were kicked out. They were naughty.") His ancestors first landed in NYC but then traveled the States cross-country, and somehow ended up in Creston. So he knows this land inside and out. He told us about the history of the Chinese Canadians who came up to this very river on mules, hoping to strike it rich panning for gold. They'd set up a whole operation here, blew some tunnels out and were close to finding a fortune. But then the war happened. They all enlisted and then no one returned. And no one logged the details of their time here. "There's unwritten history on this river," he said poetically. But if you hike 6 hours into the mountains, their pans and gear still linger there like ghosts. And to this day, he added, only 3% of the gold mining potential has been tapped.
And then we talked some more and found out that our friend is a Scorpio (because of course). "I plan on leaving here with 100 grand. And I'll do it. I'm a Scorpio, that's what we do - we dig! I'm going to rape this river!" True to form, haha. And somehow Kitty Kitty Bang Bang’s appearance screams professional prospectors, because that’s what our friend thought we were when he first saw us pulling up. What we interpreted as a wave of a friendly hello was actually an, “Oh, fuck” on his part, or so he told us. And then he also warned us that he's had two grizzly bear encounters since he got there, although they were at spots some kilometers further up from where we were. (As I started right away pulling all of the bear advice we've gotten so far from my brain files.) Still, he warned us to stick to inside our "metal box" when it gets late because "it's the bear's park after dark". "Oh, and if you hear a gunshot, that'll be me firing off a warning to a bear. I have motion sensors outside my trailer. So definitely stay put if you hear a shot!" We honestly both slept more soundly knowing that he was on it.
The next day, our friend regaled us with the most outrageous stories and insight into the inner workings of Canadian politics. Topics of conversation included the long, slimy tentacles of our country’s railroad (and after hearing his stories, it kind of becomes clear who Canada’s very own mafia is) and the Rothschilds. Then we all got in the truck and went to check out one of those mining tunnels from back in the day. The mineral deposits in the rock walls looked like colorful paintings, it was just so surreal. Then we headed back to camp and joined the group of 20-something campers from Quebec who’d also been sharing the space. We all sat around the fire and some of the Quebec group played guitar and sang so beautifully for us, which was such a treat.
As we were leaving the next morning, our friend came over and gifted us some beautiful chunks of a rock from the tunnels that he split open. There were flecks of real gold and silver. He broke off pieces of “some real BC gold” and gave them to all of us in the camp as a souvenir. Shane and I both genuinely felt some sadness about leaving. That was a really special couple of days, between the river location, the gold rush history, and the soul connection with some kindred spirits.
But other parts beckoned, so we hit the road and made a quick detour in Yahk. Why Yahk? Because we heard that there’s a place that has goats on the roof. So off we went, and there the goats were. Yahk is this teeny, tiny, unincorporated town that just oozes utter charm. We stopped for lunch and then went on the river walk behind the shop and restaurant, which had all of these cute seating areas and installations. It was a little like following Alice in Wonderland to the tea party.
After that, we were Cranbrook-bound. Shane had arranged for us to pick up our lithium batteries for the truck (which will allow us to run on full power for days on end. In other words, we can trek to the bush for a week or two and be able to power up and turn on the lights.) We heard that the local Home Hardware store welcomes truckers and RVs with open arms, so that’s where we’ve been parked for the last couple of nights. And we have a beautiful view of the Rockies from our windows.
We did take a day trip to Kimberley, only because people kept telling us that it was worth the detour. And it was okay. Apparently, Kimberley is the “Bavarian city of Canada” and home to “the world’s largest standing cuckoo clock.” You have to put a dollar into the slot to get the clock to cuckoo, though. And out pops “Happy Hans”, beer stein in hand, to yodel at you (quietly) for a minute. So we came, we saw and heard, and then shrugged like, “Okay, want to go see some waterfalls?” So that was our final hike of the day, to Marysville Falls. And we also saw a whole lot of deer running around people’s yards and trying to cross the street. It’s unreal.
We’re getting our transmission fluid done today (just some maintenance) and then we’re off to more remote camping by the river, where Shane’s going to finish all of our electrical panels so that we can move onto creating our shower space (we’ve been running the water from the shower head outside the truck so tide us over). It’s a process as well as a journey, but Shane, myself and little Xiaozhang all seem to be adapting really well to our new lifestyle, kinks and all.
Shane cracking open the nuggets our friend gave us to look for treasure:
