1902.] on Exploration in the Canadian Bocky Mountains. 157 



One such evening I remember in the Bush Valley, when uo victory 

 had crowned our efforts, in fact, we were returning from an attempt 

 to reach Mount Columbia which had proved an undoubted failure ; 

 still somehow I felt that although beaten, we had been honourably 

 beaten, we had struggled hard, but two things had failed us — time and 

 provisions — we were retracing our steps towards civilisation. The 

 camp that evening had been pitched on the banks of the Bush River. 

 In the foreground, water and shingle stretched in desolate fashion 

 westward, to where ridges of dark pine woods sloped down from 

 dusky peaks above, sending out point after point to strengthen the 

 forms of the middle distance ; whilst beyond, far across the Columbia, 

 the Selkirk mountains raised their snow-peaks into the calm, clear 

 sky, a mysterious land unexplored and unknown. Through a rift in 

 the clouds in the far west shone the setting sun, tinging the dull, grey 

 clouds overhead and the stealthily flowing river below with its many 

 coloured fires. A faint evening breeze softly moved the upper foliage, 

 a couple of inquisitive chipmunks were chattering near at hand, and a • 

 small stream could be heard whispering amongst the thickets down 

 by the banks of the river. 



The great gnarled trunks of pine and fir festooned with moss, 

 fungi, and dry lichen, the dead drooping branches and the half fallen 

 decaying trunks propped up in dreary melancholy array, caught for a 

 moment the sunset's ruddy glow, whilst the shadows of the dense forest 

 darkened by contrast. And as the evening gradually passed into the 

 mysterious night, the stillness, the solitude, and the remoteness of 

 these great woods became more evident and quite beyond description. 

 Such evenings compensate one for many a wet dreary day spent 

 amongst the mountains. Nature suddenly offers them to the traveller 

 without any toil on his part. He has only, surrounded by the dark 

 forest, to sit watching the stretch of waters and the ever-changing 

 glory of the setting sun ; then, unmindful of the worries of yesterday, 

 or the uncertainties of to-morrow, amidst the great stillness he feels 

 with absolute conviction one thing and one thing only — that it is 

 good to be alive and free. Civilisation teaches us much, but when 

 one has tasted once the freedom of the wilds a different knowledge 

 comes. The battling with storm, rain, cold, and sometimes hunger, 

 and the doubt of what any day may bring forth, these at least teach 

 that life — that mere existence — is beyond all price. 



[J. N. C] 



