October afternoon in the Selkirks

I picked a good day to take my camera along. In fact, I'm anxious to get my film developed and see if the photos look as good as the real thing. Bill came home from church and asked if I wanted to do anything yesterday afternoon. Looking toward another afternoon of "iffy" weather, I said yes.

I'd finished my vacuuming and weekly grocery-store shopping. Had sent out some questions to a veterinary for the story I'm working on and had even transplanted some more raspberries and rose bushes to the south side of the driveway near the pond. Most of my work for the day was done, so taking off for a ride seemed like a great idea----especially because we were headed toward Bonners Ferry.

Sunday afternoons in the Bonners Ferry area have been among our favorites for years. Bill started his forestry career up there when a flood washed out many of the region's bridges in early 1974. The Forest Service hired a lot of foresters at the time, so Bill went to work with the Bonners Ferry Ranger District. That summer we were married, and shortly after our honeymoon, he began several months of camping during the weeks at Smith Creek not too far from the Canadian border.

That's where we ended up yesterday. And, surprise, surprise! He had a geocache printout for a cache at the Smith Creek hydroelectric plant and recreation ground. Of course, Kiwi went along with us, and our arrival there provided her first opportunity to get out of the pickup. So, while she sniffed the grounds and I accompanied her (not sniffing but breathing in the fresh mountain air), Bill located his cache. It was hidden in some rocks near the picnic table.

I also read the sign explaining how some of the water is trapped there at the plant into an area (with screens blocking the fish from getting in ) and sent on downstream about six miles to be released again near the falls. Apparently, this process (and I'm sure a lot more) creates hydroelectric power for 40,000 homes somewhere. I didn't stay long enough to get all the details.

Bill laments that the dam is there now. He remembers the stream when it ran freely and much more clearly. He spent summer nights fishing and swimming in the spot where we stopped. It's still a beautiful stream, but I'm not one to disagree when someone says there were better times with any aspect of nature.

We turned off the Smith Creek Road to the Union Road. Bill was sure we'd see a moose. We didn't, but the vistas off to the north and northwest of the Selkirks made up for the mooselessness. When we reached the end of the road, way up high where we could see Shorty Peak and Saddle Mountain and almost to Lookout Mountain where we hiked a month ago, we parked and got ready to hike on Trail 17.

At that time, we'd also reached the point where a thin coating of snow had fallen the night before. The tall deep green, cone-shaped alpine fir and spruce wrapped in their brand new temporary blankets of white jutting toward the afternoon sky were breath-taking, to say the least. From the time we left the pickup, I was snapping pictures----of the trees, the open vistas, and the beautiful contrast of Bill in his red fleece jacket and little black-and-white Kiwi trudging up the snow-covered trail ahead of me.

We hiked upward for about half an hour through gorgeous woods with moss and lots of lush, green grass. Leafless huckleberry bushes along the pathway still offered up sporadic supplies of purple fruit for Kiwi to grab as she trotted ahead of us. At a trail junction which sends walkers into Long Canyon (the last roadless area in the Selkirks), we stopped to take a few more pictures of each of us with Kiwi as she sat on a big granite boulder. I didn't even mind the uphill walk on yesterday's hike because it was so quiet, so refreshing and so exhilarating to see an area untouched by man except for his foot path.

I can't wait to see the photos, and I also know this is a walk I'll definitely look forward to taking again some day.