Day 71 – June 13

Despite the increasingly early sunrise our late night movie viewing led to a later than normal start up. After breakfast we headed into Terrace to visit the fly fishing shop that the camp manager had recommended the previous night. The staff were very knowledgeable and helped me to decipher the BC fishing regulations which have no equal in terms of convolution and complexity other than possibly The DaVinci Code. Different regulations based not only on type of license, location, species of fish, tidal or non tidal waters, time of year, section of river or lake, even day of the week makes for a minefield of doubt for a non local when considering if it is safe to step into a particular stretch of water.

I was directed back to the area of our campsite on Ferry Island and given clear directions where to fish and what flies to use, some of which I purchased in the store. Diane dropped me off while she went to buy groceries and get gas, with a plan to rendevous 2 hours later where she had dropped me. I worked my way down a path to the river and came upon a fisherman sitting in a chair, tackle box open, line taut and far out in the river, his rod loosely held in his two hands – all the while sound asleep.

Resisting the huge temptation to yank on his line and watch him spring to action I moved further down river where some more animated fishermen were seated. A conversation with the next fisherman in line, a woman with a very large gaff within close reach (by the way in my lexicon anyone who fishes is a fisherman, I refuse to use the politically correct ‘fisher’, it’s just stupid and I have yet to meet female fisherman who takes any offence at being called a fisherman) provided me with more information. She pointed me towards where the fly fishermen went, clearly a lower species in her mind, based I assume on the fact that you can’t either sit down or fall asleep while doing it.

Five minutes later I was carefully positioning myself in the murky and very fast flowing waters of the Skeena with my sinking tip line and a monstrosity of a pink marabou fly – I was up to my ass in ice cold water fishing the Skeena and feeling good. I won’t bore you describing with the inner calmness that overcomes me when I fish but two hours passed quickly interrupted only by the routine of changing flies, unfortunately not by the violent tug of some monster salmon. I returned to meet Diane for lunch having had a perfectly fine morning of fishing, not catching.

After lunch we stopped for gas and headed east again along the #16. The overcast skies of the morning cleared and once again we were treated to the spectacular scenery of the Skeena River valley. Several kilometres of the otherwise nicely paved road was under construction and only gravel surface leading to a drive whose visibility was equivalent to the worst kind of Nova Scotia blizzard driving. At times we could barely make out the tail lights of the vehicle less than 30 meters in front of us.

Our target was Meziadin Junction where there was a provincial park, so at Kitwanga we hung a left and headed north. Strangely, despite the fact that since Vancouver we had been working our way north, this was the first time it really sank in that we were truly heading north, into the scenery that several years earlier, on our trip to Whitehorse, the seeds for this trip had been planted.

Heading north

We arrived at the Meziadin Lake Provincial Park at 6:00. It was an absolutely beautiful park with sites right on the lake and a backdrop of snow capped mountains. We quickly picked a site right on the shore as there were several vehicles circling and we didn’t know how many were available. I stepped out to direct Diane into the site and was beset with mosquitoes, they were on my naked arms in an instant, like white on rice. Diane handed me the bug spray and promised not to set foot outside the BRT until they were gone. The camp host came around to register us and advised we should get a site with some wind. It took two move moves before I scouted out a site right in the wind and by wind I mean gale force wind that rocked the rv but kept the mosquitoes at bay.

We were dry camping but the site had wifi, go figure, so we were able to catch up on email while hiding from the bugs which somehow still continued to materialize inside until we figured out they were getting in through the vents in the cab, a problem soon remedied with towels.