Sixty-something Ken was my guide for this 4-hour river 'drift' in a motorless rowboat. We began at the Atnarko River’s edge at Tweedsmuir Lodge. With my life vest secured and sack lunch stowed, Ken made one nearly imperceptible pull on the oars, and we slipped into the river’s gentle flow.I was the sole passenger on the boat, and we saw only a small cluster of fishermen at 2 spots for the entire day's drift. Mostly I perched on the covered bow of the boat, feet stretched backward for support on the front bench. Binoculars and camera at the ready, I settled in for the day.
As we meandered down the river, I was again impressed by the enormity of the Bella Coola Valley. The feeling of size was underscored by the sense of wild isolation. No buildings, roads or vehicles, for kilometer after kilometer.
I can’t imagine an “outdoor adventure” that could be any more peaceful and gentle. The water made a wonderfully soothing sound as it swirled around oars, snags and rocks. The only other sounds came from the birdsong in the shoreline forest and the whisper of wind through the trees and across our faces. The weather was gloriously sunny and warm, with only just a few puffs of pure white clouds sliding across the faces of the surrounding peaks.
The serenity of the day was seldom interrupted by conversation. Ken is very much the silent type, not given to discourse or gratuitous narrative. Almost taciturn, I found him a very curious guide.
It was nearly impossible to establish eye contact. Is he a misanthrope? Can’t say. But he is certifiably eccentric. He’s lived his entire life in the Bella Coola Valley, and he makes no apologies to anybody. (I later learned from others that he’s a mathematician by training, that his parents once owned Tweedsmuir Lodge, and that he reads The Economist each week, cover to cover. Who’da’thunkit?)
At about the halfway point of our drift trip, we reached the confluence of two rivers, the crystal-clear Atnarko and milky Talchako, laden with glacial sediment. The Chinook salmon from the Talchako tend to congregate here to cleanse their gills in the clear flow of the Atnarko, a fact appreciated by a boat of fishermen who seemed to be enjoying great success. From this point onward, the combined flow is known as the Bella Coola River.
The day included sightings of many shorebirds and bald eagles, a fox, one black bear and the fresh tracks of a mother bear and two cubs in the damp sand at one of several riverside rest spots we explored during the day.
As we eventually ended our day’s drift and were unloading the boat, Ken and I were surprised to be enthusiastically greeted at the shore by local girl Priscilla. (See Photo Gallery.) She grinned broadly, quickly dispensed fresh-made brownies and began talking up a storm. The brownies were tasty. But the encounter was surreal. There we were in the middle of NOWHERE... but it just happened to be the nowhere that Priscilla & spouse had chosen for the day's picnic and fishing. She talked rapidly and ceaselessly… about Bella Coola, about local environmental battles, about her 2 husbands -- the first a U.S. draft-dodger from the '70s -- and about her sister in Montana. Whew!
Ken rolled his eyes, rolled a cigarette and made his escape from the effervescent Priscilla. Soon he called to me with urgent relief in his voice when Rebecca, a charming behind-the-scenes Lodge staffer, arrived in a vehicle to take us back to Tweedsmuir.
