The weather is cooling, the clouds taking on darker shades and it's clear September has arrived. We're at Christina Lake, sitting by the fire after a day of bumping over dust and rocks on the Trans Canada Trail. This section was once part of th Columbia Western Railway and today we ride a 32 km stretch from Christina Lake to (nearly) Grand Forks. The trail winds through pine forests and dry grasses that have yellowed through August. It has not rained here for some time and when we sit under the pine trees to rest a while the forest floor is a mass of red needles and sun bleached twigs. Today thought, the sky gathers clouds and cooler winds. Rain is coming.
The cycling trestles on this trail are new and stretch over teh Kettle River in two places. When you go over the first trestle the river is sleepy as the cows that lumber around its edges. But five minutes up the trail the water boils through a gorge it has carved and polished to circular pockets of striped stone. We leeeaaan over the edge to get a good look at the green pools then settle back to dig into lunch.
The cycle trail was originally the Columbia Western Railway. A freight rail cut through the Kootenay wilderness beginning in 1898. The purpose: to move various mineral loads (ore, copper, silver, zinc, lead and a little gold) across a maze of rail lines that woudl eventually wind their way to the ports of Vancouver. And, the hope was to do this before the American competition did it first! Like all other Canadian rail histories this one has left behind its requisite bridges/trestles (5), tunnels (6 - one nearly 1 km long), and snow sheds (3). There are also a series of sturdy retaining walls built by Italian stone masons. The walls continue to stand strong, the craftmanship evident. But what John and I find most amazing are the stories of the cities that sprang up and then whithered and disappeared in the space of a few short months. Take the story of Brooklyn. It came to life in 1898 on the shores of Lower Arrow Lake and became the construction headquarters of the Columbia Western Railway. This all began in June of that yeat and by September the tow boasted 16 hotels, a hospital and several dry goods stores selling everything from liquor to boots. Before the end of the the year the town was closiong down, its residents called to better fortunes down the line. By the following summer Brooklyn was little more than a ghost town. Niagara was another example - from boom to bust in a year. By mid-year it had 12 hotels, 9 general stores, 3 butcher shops, 2 blacksmiths and several other businesses. By the end of the year - poof - gone!
Today all that's left of the rails and their towns are a few splintered ties and the slight impressions in a field or two of where a building might have stood. Along the trail I find three feathers - downy charcoal at the base, rising to an iridescent plume across a wide tip. All along the side several lighter stripes. I'm not sure what bird lost these beautiies but like the stories of the ghost towns they seem exotic to the land yet not completely out of place; as if someone had stood in these grassy fields, sung for hours to no one, then walked away.
Of all the lovely pieces of ourselves and others that release and settle into the world....the American poet, Mary Oliver has this to say in her book "Winter Hours".....
"I don't think I am old yet or done with growing. But my perspective has altered - I am less hungry for the busyness of the body, more interested in the tricks of the mind. I am gaining also, a new affection, for the wood that is useless, that has been tossed out, that merely exists, quietly, whereever it has ended up.....in the woods, fallen branches of oak, maple, of the dear, wind-worn pines. They lie on the ground and do nothing. They are travelers on the way to oblivion."
Here is a link to John's photos for the day....
http://picasaweb.google.ca/johnsampsonphoto/September2010ColumbiaWesternRRCycleTrail?authkey=Gv1sRgCO73_t2suv2mngE#
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