Picnic In New Denver

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Where am I going? I don't quite know

Down to the stream where the king-cups grow

Up on the hill where the pine trees blow

Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know."

    - "Spring Morning" by A.A. Milne

Mountain weather is unpredictable and I knew I was having a lucky break with clear blue skies. The day was a gift so I decided to make a run for it. Without really understanding the geography and turned the nose of my Toyota towards the town of New Denver. David and I had been there - I remembered a dinner we ate. The geography, even with maps, is bewildering. What I didn't understand was just how much in the boonies I actually was. The road was a highway, totally clear, but nobody was on it except for a helicopter getting fuelled by a pickup truck. 

I was climbing, past a clear river, with views of glaciers and then beyond still frozen lakes. Three men were ice fishing, and I thought they were taking their chances as winter was melting the snow. I was grateful once again that I was doing this trip out of season, but wondered if my phone would work if I had a flat. More than once I commanded myself to keep my eyes on the road with precipices to one side as the views upwards of the mountains that so beguiled. Stunning glaciers. 

If possible. New Denver seemed sleepier than Kaslo. Like Kaslo, it was once a bustling mining town and many historic buildings still survive. It proved to be a peaceful picnic by the lake as I contemplated the passage of time and how life events have turned out. David has passed away but the people we have loved alway abide, don't they? He loved my hair in braids and was good about my passion for the outdoors; we had that in common. 

Picnic in New Denver.