Through a Burnt Countryside : Rock Creek to Little Dipper Hideaway

When we headed out of Rock Creek this morning everything was covered in a thin layer of frost that was just beginning to melt in the morning sunshine.  Our breath made delicate puffs of mist as we headed back down the road.  As we walked, we realized that what we'd mistaken for a shallow, sandy drainage ditch at the side of the paved road was actually full of bicycle tracks and footprints, and was likely the trail.

We soon diverted onto a gravel rail trail that followed the winding river way.  The scenery was stunning, and we got to see it all double.  The golden hills, clear blue sky, tall dark green conifers, and large half moon were all reflected almost perfectly in the still, mirror-like waters of the Kettle River.  In places the yellow aspens and rich blond grasses made it look like a liquid band of gold.

We paused frequently to admire and photograph the stunning beauty around us.  Slowly the sun began to warm things up, and the pines that bordered the rail trail came alive with birds.  A small flock of Golden-crowned Kinglets moved busily through the treetops, their softer voices nearly drowned out by a group of boisterous Black-capped Chickadees.  A Red-breasted Nuthatch lent its voice to the mix, while a group of American Robins fed on the berries of a nearby fruit tree. To our amazement, a pair of Bald Eagles flew past overhead, following the line of the river below.

About an hour and a half into our walk we came to a sign indicating we were crossing the park boundary into the Kettle River Recreation Area.  The sign indicated that the area had been heavily mined in the past, and warned against venturing into any mine shafts.  From the rail trail we never spotted any entrances to mine shafts or other indications of past mining activities, just seemingly unbroken forest.

We made our way along the treed corridor of the trail, the river providing stunning reflections on one side, and a treed slope rising steeply up on the other. Soon we came to a metal trestle, which crossed the shallow, clear, dark green waters of the river.  As we inspected the rocky shores we spotted two American Dippers swimming and fishing in the shallow waters.  This was another new species for our #Hike4Birds, and one I always enjoy.  To me these small perching birds look like they belong in trees, not diving into streams!

On the far side of the bridge was a small sandy beach tucked under the tall pines.  There were two picnic tables and a water tap at the day use area, and although we hadn't really walked very far yet, it was such a lovely spot that we decided to stop.  We sat at the picnic table, warming up in the sunshine, watching a White-breasted Nuthatch foraging for insects along the trunk of a pine, and listening to the river.

As we were luxuriating, we suddenly heard cheerful voices approaching through the woods behind us.  A white labradoodle appeared onto the beach, followed shortly by about a dozen members of the Rock Creek 'Wednesday walking group.'  They were extremely friendly, and it turned out that Norma has been following our trek for some time, and had indicated that she wanted to walk with us through this stretch. Unfortunately, we didn't realize this as we haven't had cell service or been able to check email in quite some time. However, it was a wonderful chance meeting, and we were very pleased to have met her and the rest of the group as well! 

When we eventually continued on, the trail led us through the campground at the Kettle River Recreation Site. Norma had just mentioned that the area had been affected by a forest fire in 2015, and we immediately began to see evidence of this.  The campsites and picnic tables were spread out through a forest of huge, tall, completely charred pine trunks.   Above us we could see the hills rising up, nothing but grey rock, patches of dry golden grasses, and blackened tree trunks left on the steep slopes.  They looked stark and naked - each line and crag clearly visible.  No carpet of topsoil and grasses, and no thick blanket of trees to soften the lines.

We walked west towards the fire ravaged hills and then turned north, following a long river valley, with the highway on one side, the Kettle River on the other, and steep hills rising up on both sides.  With the trees burned away the landscape was open. Perhaps it should have felt desolate and destroyed, but instead it looked colourful, textured, and full of new life and rejuvenation.

The tall blackened trunks stood out in stark contrast to the bleached blond grasses and small, leathery, spiky ground cover below.  In a few places trembling aspen and other deciduous shrubs made patches of tender light green growth.  Although on one hand it was almost surprising how little regeneration had occurred in seven years, on the other, it seemed like a landscape of hope and renewal.

As we made our way down the valley we were walking through ranch land, and we had to open and close 4 or 5 cattle gates.  Although we didn't spot any cows in the valley, the pastures and fields around us had been watered with large irrigation systems.  The lush green grass provided another contrast with the dry, burnt hills above and the bright blue sky.

At the far edge of the ranch we passed through another gate, and then came to a tiny washout.  A small stream bed crossed the trail, and there was no bridge.  Luckily, the stream was bone dry, and previous trail users had worn a smooth path across the dip.

As we walked we again saw everything doubled in the mirror-like waters of the river beside us.  We stopped often to marvel at the near-perfect reflections in the clear waters. At one point we spotted three Blue-winged Teals floating near the shore, their small forms creating almost no ripples on the smooth surface of the water.  A little farther along the trail we watched a Western Meadowlark take flight from among the grasses and alight on a dead tree ahead of us.

Just before noon we came to the tiny community of Zamora.  This small collection of homesteads, hobby farms, and RVs also showed evidence of the fire.  It looked like most of the properties had been destroyed in the fire, and some had been built back new.  Mobile homes, storage lockers, and piles of cardboard moving boxes and debris outside some of the residences suggested recovery efforts might still have been ongoing by those hardest hit.  Although the devastation these communities experienced has been out of the news for years, it is clear they are still experiencing the effects of the natural disaster.

As unlikely as it might seem, a pet food store was located at the edge of the trail, with an enticing sign advertising cold drinks and ice cream.  We resisted the temptation and continued on, passing a couple on bicycles as we did so.  It was nice to see people put enjoying the unseasonably warm and beautiful October day.

Just beyond Zamora we found another sandy beach on the edge of the river, complete with a lovely shade tree.  Although this morning had been really chilly, by this point the sun was incredibly strong and hot.  We sat on the rocks beside the beach, watching the waters circle and eddie around the rocky shoals, and enjoying the reflections of the hills and mountains in the peaceful waters.  It felt like it had been a while since we took some time to simply stop and enjoy the gorgeous landscapes we ate so often privileged to find ourselves in.

A short distance beyond our lovely resting spot we came to Westbridge - another a small group of homes and farms stretched out along the river.   Just before we crossed the highway we ran into another group of around eight retirees on e-bikes, who also stopped to chat.  It was lovely to meet so many people on the trail today, and it reaffirmed our belief that if you build a beautiful trail, people will come to enjoy it.

We crossed the highway and found another trailhead with a wooden bench, a visitor's logbook, and a trail map.  It was nice and shady, but apart from stopping to sign the book, we decided to press on.

The next few kilometres of trail provided a huge contrast to what came before.  This area had escaped the fire, and we found ourselves once again following a straight, gravel rail trail through a corridor of dense trees.  It was much cooler in the shade than it had been in the open fields, which made for easier going.  However, apart from periodic views of the sun soaked, golden waters of the river beside us, we had almost no view of our surroundings.  Is this how the last stretch would have looked if it hadn't been burned?

As we trekked along the forested tunnel we spotted several places where it would have been easy to camp.  To make things even better, the trail was still right at the water level, making access to water a relatively easy prospect.  It was tempting to call it a day, but we have a schedule to keep in order to reach Penticton in time for our presentation in Merritt, and we wanted to get a few more kilometres done today.

Eventually our lovely forested corridor came to an end, and followed a gravel road for a short stretch.  Soon this logging road brought us out to a paved road and a set of brand new Trans Canada Trail markers directed us to follow it.  The rail bed continued straight, but a missing bridge meant that for 7 km we had to follow the road instead.

There was almost no traffic on the paved road, and the scenery was beautiful.  Farmland stretched out along the valley beside us, and steep, rocky, forested slopes rose up high above us on the other side. Small homes and ranches dotted the rural landscape as well.

A particular highlight was coming to the former site of a dedicated cyclist's rest stop along the side of of the road in Rhone.  The spot was marked with a bright red railway caboose with 'Kettle Valley Railway' spelled out along its side. There was also a covered picnic table, a pit toilet, a water tap, and a memorial dedicated to fallen soldiers. This lovely oasis used to be generously provided by Paul Lautard, but at the age of 94 he moved away, and sadly the iconic spot is apparently no longer open to the public.  Maybe it still welcomes hikers and cyclists, but with the sign and rope across the drive we decided not to risk trespassing.

Somewhat discouraged to find ourselves ending another day on a long stretch of road, and with no place to rest, we continued on.  About 3 km later we spotted a sign for the Little Dipper Hideaway, which is where we had been hoping to camp tonight.  Fortuitously, the owners were out front fixing up their sign, and they generously invited us in.

We have a lovely campsite under the trees, access to water, a pit toilet, and a beautiful sandy beach down by the water.  The hosts are super friendly and kind, and we seem to be the only people at the campground.  Apart from the roar of the traffic on Highway 3, which seems to be steadily increasing in volume as the night progresses, it is a wonderful, peaceful, spot to camp.  We can hear coyotes and a Barred Owl calling in the forest behind us, and sheep calling from a nearby ranch down the road.  It has been a day of incredible beauty and gorgeous fall weather on the trail, and we are truly grateful for both.

See you on the trail!

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