Friday, 31 January 2025

Oh Jeez, Cat Spray


     The other day my wife came home from town and told me that she thought a cat must have sprayed on our car, because she could smell the obnoxious odor.  I assumed that some cat in town must have sprayed on one of the tires.

    A couple of days later when I got into the car, I could smell cat spray.  That seemed strange since I didn’t think a cat could have gotten into our car and sprayed.  Then again, I thought, maybe the odor from outside of the car just filtered into the interior of the car.

    The next couple of times I got into the car I again noticed the spray smell.

    A few days later when I was in town, I grabbed our old tan shopping bag and went into the grocery store.  I traveled down the aisles and picked up the things we needed, then headed to the cashier.  I put the food items onto the counter, then flopped the bag down so the cashier could fill it.  

    Suddenly, there it was again; that cat spray smell.  Finally I realized that the smell was on our shopping bag.  Once I got home, I transferred all of the food items from the foul smelling bag into another bag to carry into the house.  I then took the offending shopping bag and hung it on a hook outside in our carport, to air out.  I’m not sure how long it will take the smell to finally go away.

    Weeks ago, during our mild, above freezing, winter days, after emptying the grocery bag, instead of putting it back into the car, I probably just pitched it out onto the carport floor, thinking I would put it in the car the next time I went outside.  I suspect when it was laying on the carport floor, the neighborhood tom cat came around and sprayed it.

    After the spraying, the shopping bag was finally put in the car.  It took a while for the obnoxious vapor to permeate the air inside the car.  Now that I have removed the bag and hung it outside, the cat smell is no longer in the car.  I’m glad the problem was something that was easily dealt with.


Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Thursday, 30 January 2025

Pond: Kerep that Water Flowing


     We get our water from Sunbeam Creek which is 4,100 feet (1,250 m) away.  That is a long waterline.  Every winter, to keep the water in it from freezing, we keep the water flowing.  Because the water comes from a running waterfall, and our system is relies on gravity to flow, it doesn’t cost us for either water or electricity.  

    All of that flowing water has to go someplace, and one of the places it goes is into my pond.  Everyday when I walk around the pond, I check the water inflow at one end, and the water outflow from the pond on the other end, to make sure the water is still flowing.  An both ends, the flowing water and a bit warmer, prevents the ice to form on it.  In the rest of the pond, that that still water probably has 10 inches of ice on it.  

    Not only is it gratifying to see that the water is still flowing, but seeing the crystal water surrounded by white rounded mounds of snow is beautiful.

    Above is a photo of the water flowing into the pond, and below is a shot of the water flowing out of the pond at the other end.



View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Wednesday, 29 January 2025

Modern Style Snowshoes


     It was probably in the late 1980’s or early 90’s that our Forest District got its first couple of pairs or Sherpa snowshoes.  None of us had ever seen snowshoes like that and everyone was anxious to try them out. Their rims were made of light weight metal, and instead of leather webbing, they had a solid covering of some kind of heavy plastic.  Their big attraction however, were the metal claws on the bottom.  These claws allowed a much firmer grip on the snow; something that was very welcome in the steep terrain of the Robson Valley.  

    Those modern snowshoes certainly didn’t have the physical attraction or the artistic grace of the traditional bent wood with leather webbing, of the handmade snowshoes that we were used to, but they did provide more stability on snowy slopes which was very welcome.

    The subject of snowshoes always puts me in mind of another of the snowshoe experiences I had.  I had to check a timber cruise that was done by a local mill.  The cruise was high on a timbered mountain slope in the far reaches of Castle Creek.   No road had yet been built to the area, so I had to arrange for a helicopter to fly Bob a coworker, and myself somewhere close to the cruise area to drop us off.

    When the helicopter got us up there, it could find no level area to land, but it did find a open area on the snowy slope.   The pilot got as close to the slope as he could then hovered, allowing us to jump out onto the snow.

    I went first.  I opened the door, and faced a storm of blowing snow made by the helicopters rotors.  I stepped down to the running board of the helicopter, then jumped the three feet to the snow below.  

    I was extremely surprised when I sank up to my crotch in the fluffy powdered snow.  Through the blowing snow caused by the helicopter, Bob handed me my snowshoes.  I moved my legs around the best I could, to clear a space which would allow me to put on my snowshoes.  It was a real struggle to to do that, half-buried in the deep snow.  

    Once I had both of them on, I stomped down the snow beneath the helicopter door, so Bob would not sink in the snow like I did.  The helicopter was still hovering and blowing a storm of snow around.  Bob handed me his snowshoes, then he jumped down.  I signaled to the pilot that we were fine, and we watched as the chopper took off, growing ever smaller against the mountain slope, until it disappeared, leaving us alone, miles away from any other people.

    Even with the snowshoes on, our steps sank about a foot into the fluffy snow.  As we got closer to the area we needed to check, we ran into a very large patch of tall false azalea plants that were half buried in the snow, but sticking out, and tangling with our snowshoes, with each step we took  They really hampered and slowed our travels.  By the time we finally got to the cruise area, we had to rush to check a few of the cruise plots, because the spot where the helicopter was going to pick us up down beside the river, was a very long hike away, and would take us a couple of hours to get there.  Luckily we made it down in time, and had checked enough plots to satisfy our requirements.

    I will always remember that leap into that powder snow, and how surprised I was.  Those were exhaustingly long days on snowshoes, but luckily my body was still young and strong.  Looking back, they seem a lot more exciting than they did when I was struggling through them.

    Below is a photo showing the metal claws on the bottom of the modern style snowshoes.



Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Tuesday, 28 January 2025

A Snowshoe Misadventure


         Here is something that happened in 1985 when I was working for the BC Forest Service: 


      In the first week of February, Ned a coworker, was supposed to accompany an entomologist from the Prince George Regional Office, to do a check on a Spruce Bark Beetle contract in the Upper Goat River.  Ned was ill, so I ended up taking his place for the day.

      I drove out to Fredrickson’s old mill site, near the Goat River, where it was arranged that I would meet Bob, the guy from Prince George, and the helicopter.  After our introductions, we gathered our gear and snowshoes and we were flown out to the upper reaches of the Goat River where we were dropped off.

    The snowshoeing was difficult.  The terrain along the side slopes was steep, and because the snow was very crusty, it difficult to get a secure grip with the snowshoes. 

    After we had done the bark beetle check, we began our long hike back to our helicopter pick-up spot. We were snowshoeing in a direction above, and paralleling the river when we were confronted with a steep riverbank.  The bank was free of trees, covered with snow, sloping sharply down to the river.

    Bob and I began snowshoeing our way across slope about fifteen feet above the river.  We got about halfway across when Bob’s snowshoe lost its grip, which sent Bob careening down the steep slope to the river.  When he hit the river, Bob’s snowshoes crashed through the snow-covered, thin ice. 

    Fortunately the river was not very deep at that spot, but still Bob had to struggle to extricate himself out of the cold water.  As he lifted one leg out of the water, his snowshoes caught on the ice, and came off. The swiftly flowing current, whisked the snowshoe, under the ice. 

    Once I had made my way down to the river to help, we both made sweeps of our arms in the frigid water under the ice, hoping to locate the missing snowshoe, but it was long gone.

    It was a dilemma; we both had cold, wet, pants and boots, and Bob only had one snowshoe.  We made our way out of the water, and struggled along the bank until we got to friendlier ground.  We then continued our long trek toward the helicopter pickup site. 

    Bob had a difficult time trying to walk wearing just the one snowshoe. It was awkward and very frustrating.  He eventually took off the snowshoe and carried it.  But trying to proceed across the crusty snow with just his soggy boots was also frustrating.  

        Walking through deep crusty snow without snowshoes is maddening, because on some steps the crust would hold and your foot would only sink an inch, while maybe on the next step, the crust would break, causing your foot to sink 10 inches into the snow.  

    We eased that problem somewhat by me snowshoeing a path ahead of him, compressing a snowshoe trail through the deep snow, and Bob following in the snowshoe tracks I had made.

      It was slow going, but eventually we made it back to the helicopter pick-up site and after a wait, we were overjoyed to finally hear the chop of the rotors in the distance.   It was wonderful to be able to sit down in the warm helicopter and watch the mountains go by as we were flown back to our pickups.  

    The day was a memorable one for both of us, especially Bob.  I am sure the incident spiced up a lot of the tales he told to friends about his forestry adventures.


View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Monday, 27 January 2025

Bush Work On Snowshoes


    Yesterday I blogged about those first snowshoes we bought.  They were wide, handmade, and constructed of wood and leather.  I have always thought that those old style snowshoes, with their bent wood and cross-checked webbing of leather had a real rustic beauty to them.  Those first snowshoes we only used for recreation in the snow.

    In the early 1980’s I began working for the BC Forest Service, and during the winter, if we were doing work in the bush, we had to use snowshoes.  Those snowshoes were also handmade in the old style, but were narrower and longer than the ones we had at home.  They were made by the Chestnut Canoe  Company in New Brunswick.  Because they were narrower, walking in them was more normal, because you didn’t have to keep your feet so far apart, but their length did make it awkwardly difficult to stand in one place and turn around.

    We would often have to be on snowshoes all day, as we would shush our way through the the deep snow to do our work.  We would usually drive as close as we could to where we were doing surveys, looking for Bark Beetles, of checking timber cruises.  Once we got to as far as we could drive in the 4-wheel drive pickups, if we needed to go further into the bush, we would have to snowshoe, or later use snowmobiles.  Then, as we did our work we wore snowshoes around in the forested mountain slopes.

    Sometimes if we had to work in a very isolated area, we were helicoptered in and dropped off at some place where the chopper could land, then we had to snowshoe to the area we had to work in.   Winter days are short, so we always work quickly and give ourselves enough time to snowshoe back to the arranged spot where the helicopter was supposed to pick us up.  We always kept our fingers crossed hoping that the weather didn’t turn bad and leave us stranded overnight. 

    The one time it looked like that was going to happen, the helicopter couldn’t get in at the arranged time because of the weather, so we had already started to build ourselves a fire for overnighting, when the helicopter found a break in the storm and did manage to finally make it through and picked us up.

    Tomorrow I will blog about another of those snowshoe days, when something did go a bit awry.



View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Sunday, 26 January 2025

The Snowshoes In My Life


     For the first quarter of my life growing up in Indiana, snowshoes were just some exotic thing that would sometimes be mentioned in a novel.  However, when we immigrated to Canada and found ourselves living in a very remote lumber camp, surrounded by deep snow and no outside recreation during the winter, we decided to buy some snowshoes so we could at least do a little exploring in the wilderness that surrounded the camp.

    We purchased them through the mail, probably after reading from some ad in the back of a magazine.  The pair we bought were wide, handmade, leather-woven ones, (shown on the left above.)  When we got them, we had to figure out how to get our winter boots snuggly attached into the harness, but soon we were out walking through the deep snow.

    The whole idea of snowshoes is that they distribute your weight onto a broad area under your feet, so that your feet don’t sink so deeply in the snow.  Even with the snowshoes, you might sink maybe 6 inches (15cm) depending on the hardness of the snow, but your feet would sink a whole lot deeper without them.

    Snowshoeing with those wide snowshoes, meant we had to adjust our steps; walking with our feet further apart, and taking longer strides, because if we didn’t, we ended up stepping on the opposite snowshoe as we walked.  It seemed like our boots where always slipping out of the harness, which meant a lot of awkward struggles, with one foot sinking deeper in the snow, then trying to balance on the one remaining snowshoe, while struggling to put the other foot back in the harness, then with cold fingers trying to connect and tighten the icy strap back into place.

    Despite those awkward moments, it was good being outside in the snow and into the woods, exploring places that would have been inaccessible without the snowshoes.



Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Saturday, 25 January 2025

A Stunningly Beautiful Winter Day


     During the winter, a big majority of our days are gray overcast with cloud.  If we get an Arctic flow of frigid air, the skies are extremely blue and clear, however the temperatures can be brutally cold (-25°C to -35°C), so while it is nice to have the sunshine and clear skies, there is a price we have to pay with the very cold temperatures.  

    Yesterday, we bucked that trend.  The sky was blue, the sunshine was bright, and the temperature was mild; just close to the freezing point.  Even though it was an amazingly beautiful day, I didn’t really do anything special outside, but I certainly did appreciate the pristine beauty that I was seeing around me.



You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Friday, 24 January 2025

Stay On The Snowshoed Paths


     We got 9-10 inches (22-25 cm) of new snow yesterday.  This was on top of the 6 inches (15 cm) that was already on the ground, so walking anywhere through all that snow becomes very tiring and burdensome.   Every year when the snow reaches this depth, just walking out across the yard is difficult, so I always make trails with my snowshoes, to pack down the snow in those places I need to go.  Once the snow is packed down, we are able to walk on the paths with our winter boots, no snowshoes needed.

    I snowshoed around the pond this morning, so that path is packed.  Later, I will make paths to the compost pile and wood pile.  I cleared the driveway yesterday, so now I can easily get to the shop, the barn, and the bird feeder.  I can’t think of any other outdoor places I will need to get to for a while.

  



You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Thursday, 23 January 2025

The Plum Trees by Victoria Shorr


 The Plum Trees by Victoria Shorr

    While attending a funeral of one of three sisters who had survived Auschwitz, Consie, a modern day Jewish descendant, was given a  letter from her relative’s estate.  The letter written just after the War, stated that Hermann, Consie’s great uncle, had escaped from Auschwitz.  This staggering news, set Consie on a quest to see if that could be true, because she was unaware of anyone ever escaping the death camp.  As a result of that information, Consie began researching the audio recorded interviews made by Auschwitz survivors telling their stories about what happened in hopes of finding some further information about Hermann to see if, in fact, he had escaped.  

    With the information she gleaned from many sources, Consie pieces together the history of the lives of Hermann’s family, both before and during the Holocaust.  This novel is horrific in places, but very well written and deeply moving.

    I was especially struck by the deep confusion felt by Hermann and his family when the Nazis and their supporters first began to take power in Czechoslovakia. The prosperous family owned a plum orchard, and were well liked , because of their generosity and kindness toward their employees, neighbors, and towns people, but then slowly, as Nazism began to spread through their rural community, their lives began to be evermore restricted by ridiculous anti-Jewish laws.

            Hermann was always a good and generous citizen, who had faith in the goodness of people, and so he ignored a chance offered by his brother who lived in America, to immigrate there.

    He believed that the Nazi thing would soon blow over, and things would return to normal.  Of course, things didn’t get back o normal, and instead became fatally worse.  Soon, it became too late for Hermann and his family to leave for the US.  They did manage to escape to Hungary, where things hadn’t yet gotten bad for Jews, but soon it too was engulfed by Nazism.

    Over and over Hermann just couldn’t believe what was happening.  The people that used to be friendly suddenly were hostile.  People who he had helped, turned against him.  He couldn’t make his rational mind accept what was happening to his country.  In light of what is happening in to the US with the election of Trump, I can certainly relate to that feeling of unbelief and confusion.

    Another interesting fact brought out by the novel was the pseudo-kindness and politeness espoused by the Nazis, to get the Jews to leave their homes to go to “do farm work” and live in “family camps”.  “So sorry about the terrible boxcar train ride you had to take to get here” and “just take off your clothes, fold them nicely, so they will be here after you take your shower.”  The acceptance of this false politeness worked until it was too late for the victims.

    Historical fiction is my favorite reading genre.  I found this novel on our library’s Libby app; downloaded it, and read it on my iPad.  I was somewhat hesitant about picking it to read, because of its title and its cover, which seemed rather cartoonish, considering the description of the story it told.  Although shocking in some of its content, it is based on the many recorded true incidents of those who survived the death camps.

    However like I said, it is very well written, deeply moving, and certainly relevant considering the march toward authoritarian governments today.  More people need to read things like this, because even if history doesn’t exactly repeat itself, like Mark Twain said, “It rhymes.”


Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Wednesday, 22 January 2025

Making Broth For Soup


     Because I am a mammal, I try not to eat other mammals, because I feel some kind of kinship toward them.  Birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than to me, so we eat a lot of chicken and turkey.  After we eat them we always have a lot of bones left over.  I hate to see those bones go to waste, so I always throw the bones into the Instant Pot with some water, celery, and garlic then boil them to make broth which I then use for making soup.  

    After I have pressure boiled the mixture for a half an hour or so in the Instant Pot, I dig out the bones, let them cool, (photo below) then strip off any meat that may be still on the bone, which I add to the broth. 

    My mother showed me how easy it was to make soup with broth.  She always added a mixture of frozen vegetables and spices to her broth to make her soup.  The soup I make is more closely related to chili.  I add our canned tomatoes (Due to our very poor tomato crop last summer, I have been using some tomato paste instead).  I love beans, so add red beans, black beans, or mixed beans from cans.  Today, we didn’t have any canned beans, so I used dry beans that I soaked and cooked in the Instant Pot, instead.  Dry beans are more environmentally friendly anyway.  

    I also add some frozen corn, some of our spicy chilis, and chopped onions.  I further spice up the mixture with some salt and pepper of course, but also chili powder and ground cumin.  I like to add a bit of barbecue sauce to the mix, to give it a bit of hickory flavoring.  Lately, I have been also adding some miso to the soup. 

    Anyway, that is how I make my soup, but using the broth as a base, you can add whatever things you like for your soup.  

    I make soup for my lunches to eat just about every day.  I do avoid eating it on Tuesdays however, because that is our jam night, and eating all of those beans can cause atmospheric problems in the confined space of the train station lobby where we play.



View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Tuesday, 21 January 2025

Linear Frost


     Several times a day, I walk around my pond.  I am supposed to be walking Kona, but more often than not, Kona picks up a whiff of some animal and goes off smelling her way into the bush on her own.

    One of the most interesting parts of my pond walk is when I walk across the planks over the pond’s outflow.   For a good portion of this winter, our weather has been very mild;  just below freezing at night, but slightly above freezing during the day.  As a result, there has been no ice on the gently flowing stream of the outflow.  The leaves of the aquatic plants growing there, just on the water’s surface have stayed surprisingly green.

    A few days ago the weather did get colder, -12°C (10°F) overnight.  The surface water of the outflow did freeze, then it began being covered with linear segments of frost, which which I found quite unusual.  The photo above shows what it looked like.  


My paintings can be seen at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Monday, 20 January 2025

Wow, Trump's "Golden Age" Has Arrived


     I have yet to go downtown today to see just how much the price of groceries have plummeted, but everyone knows Trump never tells a lie, and during his campaign he promised to reduce those high food prices that Evil Biden had put in place.  The billionaires have, no doubt, worn skin off, rubbing their hands together in glee, now that their taxes will be slashed, and government regulations will disappear.

    The Christian Nationalists have had it confirmed that God himself has put Trump in place to kick out those communistic Democrats, who wanted to make life better for people. 

    Trump’s January 6th Brown Shirts will get their pardons and be free to once again intimidate people, by roaming the streets with their AR-15s and military garb. 

    Those unsightly brown and black-skinned, pet-eating, immigrants and asylum-seekers, will be rounded up, put in camps, and then deported, leaving good white people to do all those low-paying, manual labor jobs.

    Thousands of experienced and non-partisanship employees will be quickly removed from the Federal Government and replaced with Trump sycophants and loyalists, despite their inexperience and abilities.

    We will no longer have to worry about all of those terrible natural disasters because the words “climate change” will be removed from all government documents, and those governmental agencies that deal with science will be strictly muzzled.  Oil will soon be flowing from National Parks, Nature Reserves, and Monuments.  The air will soon be thickly saturated with wonderful carbon.  Bring it on, Trump always knows best.

    The billionaires that control news and social media, have already “kissed the ring” and changed their algorithms.  Elon Musk, who donated hundreds of millions to the Trump Campaign, jumps for joy in the presence of the Great Leader, and other billionaires also quickly donated millions of dollars to Trump’s coronation.  In addition to that donation, Amazon’s Bezos has given Melania Trump $40 million dollars so he can do a documentary on the amazing woman.

    The Trumps themselves are celebrating the Second Coming of Trump by starting up Trump crypto-currency schemes.  Donald Jr. and Eric, already had one, but within the last couple of days, both the President, and his First Lady, have individually, both set up crypto-coin scams.  Don’t forget all of the other wonderful Trump products now available: golden Trump tennis shoes, Trump watches, NFT cards showing Trump as Superman and as an Astronaut, Trump Guitars, and of course, the Trump  Holy Bible.  

    Unfortunately there will be some losers in Trump’s Golden Age.  Firstly, the Earth and all of the living things that depend upon it.  Then, all of the once friendly allies and nations that trade with the United States (including my own country of Canada).  All democratic countries will be impacted as Trump, enabled by his sycophantic Congress and Courts, move toward authoritarianism in the US.  And sadly also, all those brave, honest, and ethical politicians from both parties, that bravely spoke the truth about Trump.

    Yes, a Glorious Future awaits the whole world, starting today.


View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Sunday, 19 January 2025

Same Scene, Different Light


     The light is always changing outside, and I enjoy watching the different colors and moods that occur when the light changes.  Here are four photos that I took from my balcony during the last two weeks.  




View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Saturday, 18 January 2025

Back When Airlines Actually Cared


    Here is a story I will always remember.  Yesterday at our writing group, I was going through my 1992 diary and came across it.  Here it is:


       Once after throwing out my back I drove up to Prince George to get it manipulated back in place by my chiropractor.  While he was working on me, he told me an amazing story.  It seemed that he had booked flights for a vacation down in Los Vegas.  The first leg of the trip was from Prince George to Vancouver on Canadian Airlines.

    Months before the trip, Canadian had canceled that flight, but they had failed to inform him.  When he arrived at the Prince George airport, packed and ready to go, the ticket agent gave him the news, which was quite a blow; his vacation seemed doomed.

    Canadian Airlines, admitted it was their mistake, and to help salvage my chiropractor’s vacation, the airline hired a taxi which drove him all the way from the Prince George Airport down to Vancouver International Airport, where he could catch a flight to Los Vegas.  The length of that taxi ride was over 600 miles (970 km) and he had to sit in the taxi for eight and a half hours.



View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca


Friday, 17 January 2025

1909: The Primal Forests of the Robson Valley


     Over the last few days I have been blogging the descriptions of the Robson Valley as it was recorded in the Stanley Washburn’s book; Trails, Trappers, and Tender-Feet in Western Canada, published in 1912.  I have always loved forests, so the sections I found most intriguing described the forests along the Fraser River from Tete Jaune Cache to the area where McBride was built.  Here is some of what Washburn wrote:


    As we float on down the Fraser, the vegetation becomes thicker and denser until, after a few hours, the river’s edge is hemmed in by a shoreline that is so thick with underbrush and jungle that one literally requires an axe to get out of the canoe.  But the survey (done by the advance Grand Trunk Pacific Railroad crew) has gone before us down this waterway, and every six or eight miles we see their camping places, where the brush has been cleared away for a few yards from the river’s bank, and the trees stripped of their lower branches.  This created a few hundred square feet of clearing that stands out like an oasis from the dense and impenetrable background beyond.

    There is an old horse trail that extends twelve or fifteen miles below the Cache, but the pioneers that cut it lost heart when they penetrated that far, and gave up the job.  He who fares further on the way down the valley must either take to the river, or make the effort on foot, a task that tests the endurance of the most hardy, for if there is any country in the world today that stands as a sample of the primeval, it is this same valley of the Fraser.

    Giant cedars that measure six and eight feet across at the butt and soar 80 feet clear to the first branch are the largest trees, but immense spruce and fire rival them in height, while in the lesser word below, birch, cottonwood, alder and a dozen other smaller species crowd each other for space.  The whole floor is sown with rotting trunks that must have been moulding for centuries.

    I don’t know how long it takes a tree to rot, but it must require some time for a tree four or five feet through to mould to such an extent that you can dig through the brown decay with a shovel.  Hundreds upon hundreds of these moss-grown trunks lie everywhere in the nether gloom, while great bunches of dank moss, with here and there brilliant mushroom growths are sapping the nourishment from their rich vegetable mould.  Ferns and creepers as high as your head are everywhere, and the whole so dense that a person walking unimpeded, could hardly make a mile in an hour.

    Here and there are little openings and “burns” where the timber has been scorched by fire, and then died and fallen in hopeless confusion, one great tree lying prostrate over another.  In these spots one can walk for half a mile on tree trunks and never touch earth by ten feet.  Ten good men with sharp axes could not cut a mile of trail a day, that would enable horses to travel.

    

    I have always heard that the Native Americans did not establish villages or live permanently in what is now the Robson Valley, except for a village of dugouts at Tete Jaune Cache.  They did make forays down the river for hunting and food gathering purposes, but after reading the description of the forests from Washburn’s  book, it seems logical that it would have been just too much work to try to live around here permanently.  

    The photos were taken at the Ancient Forest Provincial Park.  It is one of the few remaining areas where the giant cedars can still be seen in the Robson Valley.  It does help give you a visual of what those old forests must have been like.





You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca