Winfield Creek Habitat Preserve

There are days I want to get into the minivan and drive, drive, drive.  And then there are days I just don’t want to stray too far from my coffeemaker.  Know what I mean?

I stumbled upon the Winfield Creek Habitat Preserve one day last summer and promised myself I would return. So many birds!  Given the proximity to my coffee machine, it seemed like a good day to go.

My plan was to take my coffee and my beach blanket, find a spot in the park to set up with my camera and journal, and wait for the birds to come to me.  I remembered there was a small clearing that seemed perfect.  But by the time I got to Winfield, I was having second thoughts.  I couldn’t remember exactly where the clearing was.  It occurred to me that by the time I put my camera in my purse with my keys and my journal, hauled out the big lens (in it’s own case; it’s rather heavy), grabbed the blanket and my coffee – that was a lot of luggage to be hauling around on a trail, especially with my limitations.  

I draped the camera around my neck, threw the big lens over my shoulder, and tucked my keys in a hiding spot.  No journal, no blanket, no coffee.  Oh, the things we’re willing to sacrifice…

The parking area was occupied by a number of California Quail families, all of which scurried off into the undergrowth before I could get my act together.  It was a promising sign.  There were sure to be a lot of birds.

I made my way slowly down the trail.  I could hear a number of different birds, but the leafy canopy overhead prevented me from seeing any of them.  

I wasn’t worried though.  I knew once I got to the clearing, I would see plenty.  And the trail was lovely, winding its way through the mixed forest.  Breathing deeply, I let the fragrance of the trees fill me.  That scent is like a drug and I’m an addict.

Early signs of autumn were visible – leaves beginning to turn, bushes heavy with rosehips – but for the most part, it was still green.  

As near as I can tell, there are three separate ponds connected by the creek.  The first pond was empty.  The second pond was covered with bright green algae.  The third pond was full of ducks.

Where the heck was that clearing?  My legs and lungs were both feeling the burn. It felt like I’d been walking for a long time.  It had to be close!

I wandered through a stand of Ponderosa Pine and Red Cedar, turned a corner and there it was.  The tall grass sparkled in the sun.  Sparkled.  Because it was wet.  Nope.  I’m not wading my way into tall, wet grass.  I probably shouldn’t be disturbing the native plants, anyway.  This was a nature preserve, not a park.  I plopped myself down on the dirt path next to the clearing.  I desperately needed to rest. I could probably still see the birds from here. The strange thing was, I couldn’t hear any birds.  Well.  This didn’t work out at all.

I sat there for a while, resting my legs and wondering where the birds had gone. Birds tend to get quieter as the day gets longer, but surely, I hadn’t been out here that long.  Awkwardly, I got to my feet, thinking about the coffee I’d left in the van.  That’s when I saw him.  

No wonder the birds were quiet!  

Just ahead of where I had been sitting on the path, I saw what I thought was a pile of deer droppings.  Drawing closer I realized that the poop was made up of partially digested cherries.  That wasn’t deer.  That was bear. 

I made it back to the minivan in no time.  Not because I might be sharing the park with a bear, but because the path is a loop.  Had I gone the other direction when I started, I would have arrived at the clearing before my legs had a chance to say anything.  Live and learn.

Goose Lake

I meant to go to Swan Lake.  Really, I did.  But at the last minute I changed my mind and switched out Swan for Goose. The problem was that I discovered the Swan Lake Nature Reserve Trail would require I walk more than a kilometer in 30-degree heat through a field just in order to reach the lake’s edge.

I didn’t think I had it in me.

On to plan B.

Goose Lake is a small lake located in between Swan Lake and the northernmost arm of Okanagan Lake on the outskirts of Vernon.  On the map, it looked like there was access to the lake, but I found myself out of road at a concrete barrier some distance from the lake.


Just beyond the barrier was a path that led down.  It was still too far a walk to the lake, and private property besides.  The land belongs to the Okanagan Indian Band Reserve and was formerly used as a military training ground.  Down closer to the lake were signs warning away trespassers, due to the presence of unexploded explosive ordnance, or UXOs. There have been at least seven deaths here attributed to abandoned munitions, between 1948 and 1973.  While there has been some cleanup, it is still far from safe.

The area I was in was, presumably, clean.


White Chicory, Rare


Wild Chicory

I walked down toward the lake, through vegetation that was ripe with singing crickets, cabbage butterflies and bees.  Wild Chicory and St. John’s Wort filled the field, along with thistles that stood eight feet tall and had stalks thicker than my forearms.


Some kind of monstrous thistle

Chokecherry bushes bowed under the weight of their fruit.


Chokecherry Bush

It was beautiful here.  There were Sparrows and Goldfinch in the bushes, and I could see ducks on the water below.


Female Goldfinch

It’s too bad the land is unusable.  Let me see if I’ve got this right.

White man shows up and takes the land from the indigenous people.

White man gives back a piece of the land in the form of a reservation.

White man says, “Hey, we need to borrow some of your reservation land, for the good of the country.”

White man returns the land, now useless, to the indigenous people.

Sometimes I am ashamed of the colour of my skin.


I had gone about as far as I could go.  I plopped myself down on the ground in the shade of a chokecherry bush and waited for the pain in my legs to abate.


Man, it was really hot.  Sitting there on the ground, feeling the sweat trickle down my back, looking at water I couldn’t get to – obviously I needed to go find myself a different lake, even if this one was pretty.


Cabbage Butterfly

BX Falls

It was Santana’s first day off all summer.  So even though I was on a ten-day stretch myself, I agreed to go for a drive to the destination of his choosing.  He chose Vernon and invited a friend, Keith.  The boys had a list of places in Vernon they wanted to check out.  I had a list of my own.

Just a few weeks ago, I was having a conversation with someone, describing my hobby.  He suggested I check out BX Falls in Vernon.  Breaking with tradition, I looked it up before we went.  Not very thoroughly, as it turns out.

“These falls are five minutes from the parking lot… quick, easy visit.  No real place for picnics, just walk and view…nice, relaxing.”

That sounded great!

I should have kept reading the review.

“Lots and lots of stairs to the bottom…. So that means lots of stairs on the way up.”  (CalGirl1982)

Well, you know what they say about hindsight…

Either way, when we arrived, I was expecting the nice, relaxing five-minute walk.



Harvesting St. John’s Wort

It started out that way, to be sure.  The forest of mostly cedar was deep and cool.   The sound of the creek was soothing.

Then we got to the stairs.


Guest Photographer – Santana

I might have made it to the bottom without any issue.  But there were no handrails.  I would never make it back to the top.

I handed each of the boys a camera.

“There’s no way I’m going to make it.  You’re going to have to do it for me.”  They promised to take lots of pictures and headed off.  I turned around and began to make my way back.

Before long I realized that I didn’t have the car keys.  I had no pockets, so I’d given them to Santana when we got out of the car.  I looked around.  There was a lovely spot beside the creek where I could dip my feet in the water and wait for the boys to return.  Much cooler than waiting in the parking lot.

I settled onto a nice large rock and put my feet in the water.  It was COLD!  But it was also clear and beautiful.  Almost instantly, I regretted giving away both cameras.  There were plenty of things I could be taking pictures of right now.  Then I remembered the story told at the beginning of a National Geographic Photography video – Don’t Forget to Pet the Whale.

Basically, the story is about a man on a whale watching trip.  A whale approaches the boat and everyone on the boat reaches over the side and pets the whale.  The man is so busy photographing the experience that he forgets to experience the experience. Don’t Forget to Pet the Whale is a reminder to not let life pass you by while you’re taking pictures of it.

I took a deep breath – the scent of water and rocks, overlaid with a touch of mud.  Cedar, moss.  Damn.  It was beautiful here.  I watched a Cloudless Sulphur coasting over the moss.  I watched the odd leaf betray the season by falling early.  I watched a squirrel race across a fallen log and leap over the creek to another fallen log because, well, because he could, I guess.  He did it three or four times.  Show-off.  I let the sound of the creek lull me into a place I haven’t been for a while.  I was so relaxed I almost didn’t see the boys coming back down the trail.  They had kept their promise and taken photos for me to share.


Guest Photographer – Santana


Guest Photographer – Keith

So while I didn’t get to see the falls personally, I had a wonderful time petting the whale.  Of course, once the boys were back I was free to take a few shots before we headed home.


Shelf Fungi


BX Creek, as seen from the rock I was sitting on


Random Tree Roots


Flowing Water

Hey, I said I’d pet the whale.  No one said anything about a full-body massage.

Idabel Lake

Holding the camera as steady as possible, I slowly exhaled and pressed the shutter button.  Nothing happened.  I adjusted the focus, held the camera steady, exhaled and pressed the shutter button.  Still nothing happened.  What the *#@&?

“Come ON!” I said, pulling the camera away from my face in order to look at it accusingly.  The two Columbian Ground Squirrels that, up until now, had been posing on a rock for me, decided that enough time had been wasted, and scampered away.  I examined the camera and, finding nothing amiss, tried to take a random shot of some trees.  Nothing.  This time, however, I could see that the battery light was blinking.

Of course.  This is what happens when you decide to take a road trip on no sleep but plenty of caffeine.  You forget things.  But really?  The battery?  How could I possibly have forgotten that?  Cursing myself, I got back in the Kia.  Nothing to do now but go home.  “But you’re not done!” the voice in my head protested.  The voice was right.  There were still two roads on this trip that I wanted to check out, and at least two places I told myself I would stop at on the way back.  Now I had to drive home and try NOT to see anything on the way.  Good luck with THAT.

Regardless, I was glad I came.

The day started early, and it was a lovely one.  The morning air was still cool, but the sky was a brilliant blue and the roads were quiet.  Starting out on Highway 33, I headed to the spot where McCulloch Road meets the highway.  From there I turned onto the forestry road.  Along the way there were openings in the trees where it was evident that clearcutting had taken place.


Clearcut, OK Falls Forestry Road

Some of those areas had been reforested, while others had been left for Mother Nature to take care of.  The process is slow, but eventually life finds a way.


American Robin, Juvenile

I didn’t know what I would find at Idabel Lake.  I had seen a sign for it while exploring McCulloch Road a few weeks back and made note of it as a place to visit in the future.  I didn’t look it up.  I’ve decided that I like the element of surprise in my travels.  I was surprised to find a paved road when I turned off the forestry road I was on.  I was even more surprised to find street signs.  This wasn’t just a random, wilderness lake.  This was a community.

There was a man walking down the middle of the road.  My window was open, and as I slowly passed, he turned and smiled.  I put my foot on the brake.

“Hi,” I said. “How are you today?”

“I’m good.”  He seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I did.

“I’m just out having a look around.  I’ve never been here before.  I like to visit new places and take pictures of what I find.”

“You like nature?”


“Me, too.  Are you headed to the beach?”

“Does this road take me there?”


“Then I guess I am.”

“How long are you going to be there?  If you’re going to be a while, I’ll run home and get my phone so I can show you some of my pictures.”

“How long will that take?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah.  I’ll still be there.”

He waved and turned around.  I continued to the lake.


Columbia Ground Squirrel

The “beach” was really a boat launch, with a couple of picnic tables nestled in the tall grass and daisies.  I climbed out of the Kia with my camera in hand.  A Columbian Ground Squirrel was standing in the grass next to the water.  A family of loons was visible, just offshore.


Common Loon

The lake itself was beautiful, peaceful and still.  I looked out over the water and breathed deeply.  I don’t know what it was about this lake specifically, but it was the most idyllic place I’d come across yet.


Idabel Lake

My new friend, Carmen, arrived with his phone in hand.  We sat on one of the picnic tables and he showed me some photos and a video he took of wildlife in the area.  He shared a little bit about his life and how he came to be there.  It was an altogether pleasant encounter, sitting in the sun with a stranger, enjoying the peace of the morning and the view of the lake.  I was glad we had met.


Idabel Lake


Yellow Water Lily, Idabel Lake

But there were more roads to follow, and this blog wasn’t going to write itself, so eventually, I packed up my lenses and moved on.  It was the very next stop I made that found me battery-less. In retrospect, I suppose I had seen all I needed to see in order to know I want to go back.  It just would have been nice to stay longer.

Postill Lake

It felt like it had been a long time since I went for a drive.  Actually, it hadn’t.  I’d driven to Vernon on errands but didn’t have the time or energy to visit any of the places on my list – all which involve walking.  I’d been out for a cruise on West Side Road, but there was traffic, and I just wasn’t feeling it. So by the time I had the right circumstances – a day off, lots of sleep – I was pretty anxious to get started.

Santana was a last-minute addition to my plans, though not an unwelcome one.  I was planning to visit a place I found on the map – Postill Lake.  I’d never heard of it before, although apparently, I should have, as it was in the news just a couple of weeks ago.


“Central Okanagan Search and Rescue said three people and their dog were found after searchers, driving through the new-growth forest on ATVs, heard them “screaming” for help. Another wave of rescuers had missed them minutes earlier, unable to hear them shouting through the dense brush.”

Rhianna Schmunk · CBC News


After their truck went off the road, landing them in a ditch, the three were trying to get unstuck when the dog jumped out of an open window and took off into the forest, chasing a deer.  Chasing after the dog, the three got turned around in the deep forest, and couldn’t find their way back to the road.  Twenty-five hours later, they were found.  Thankfully, all were unharmed.


Of course, I didn’t know any of this.  I found the lake on the map and wanted to go.  I didn’t Google it until I got home.

That’s just how I roll.

The sky was overcast but there was not supposed to be any rain.  I would have thought, given the proximity to the airport, that the forecast would be accurate, but rain had already fallen – the gravel road was damp and droplets of water glistened on the leaves.  The grey skies had the effect of deepening the green of the forest and I could feel myself sinking into the calm that comes whenever I start to breathe the forest air.  The drive was lovely and would have been picturesque if it weren’t for the illegal dumping marring the landscape. I understand 3500 tonnes of trash was removed from the area, just last fall.  Shameful.

Still, if you can overlook the old couches and partially burnt mattresses, there is plenty else to see.



I had Siri on because there are multiple ways to start out for the lake.  When she told me to make a right-hand turn, I came to a dead stop.  What??? She wanted me to go where???

The “road” Siri wanted me to take was next to impassible.  It was a steep, uneven climb that did not look like a road at all.  I’m not overly shy about taking rough roads, but this didn’t look right at all.  I checked the map.  If I didn’t turn off, I would still end up at the lake, but it looked like this was a shortcut.

Santana offered to go scout the road to see if it improved any.  That sounded good to me.  While he was gone, I grabbed my camera and had a little look around.  There was a deep, tree-filled crevice on the other side of the road.  Perched in a tree were a pair of Turkey Vultures.


Santana came back and said, “Let’s go.”   His voice sounded hurried.  What he found when he ventured up the road, was a partially built structure that looked as though someone might be living in it.  He described what he found and said that the whole thing made him feel very uncomfortable – like there was something sketchy going on.  I made some joke – shades of “Deliverance” – but of course, he’s too young to get the reference.

We made our way to the lake, stopping on occasion so I could indulge my photo bug.  There were fields and fields of Fireweed.  There was a wildfire in the area last year, but it was fairly small and quickly contained.


Soon we arrived at the Postill Lake Lodge.  This is a very cool trout fishing, family-oriented resort that has cabins, cottages, and camping sites available, along with boat rentals.  I completely fell in love with the site. The rates are very reasonable, compared to other places I’ve seen, and I fully intend to make a return trip.  I’ve even chosen my accommodation already.  I asked about winter stays, but unfortunately, the resort is only open until mid-October.


The lake looked moody under the overcast skies, but I like that.  Not every day can be sunshine and laughter.


We headed for home.

Strangely, when we reached the place we had stopped earlier in the day, I spotted the Turkey Vultures again and stopped.  But there was more… There were six Turkey Vultures and two Bald Eagles, all in the same location – across the road from the shortcut.  It was weird and a little unnerving.  I couldn’t help but wonder what lay at the bottom of the crevice that had their attention.  I peered over the side but could see nothing.


We made our way back down the road, and I thought about the discussion my Poetry Circle had earlier in the week.  We were discussing Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening”, and what it might have meant – especially the final stanza.


“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”


Some of the group agreed with the analysis that suggested Robert Frost was considering abandoning civilization, perhaps even contemplating suicide, but I disagree.



I think he was talking about heaven.

Jackpine Lake

I have a rotating schedule of four days on, two days off.  That means that, on occasion, my days off will fall on a weekend.  The thing about back roads, is that while during the week they are near to deserted, the same cannot be said for weekends, as I discovered on Sunday.  I decided to take another trip up Glen Rosa Road, only this time, turning off to find Jackpine Lake.  There was traffic.  Not a lot of traffic, but way more than I’m used to. Between the trucks speeding down the gravel roads and the hunters that scared the crap out of me with their gunfire, I didn’t think I would be seeing much in the way of wildlife.  That turned out to not be the case.  There were White-tailed deer and Snowshoe Hares.  One cluster of boulders alone housed Yellow-bellied Marmots, Columbia Ground Squirrels and a gazillion Yellow-Pine Chipmunks.  

Yellow-bellied Marmot

I arrived at Jackpine Lake, still fairly early in the day.  

Stump in the Water

It’s a lovely lake, somewhat marshy, but obviously a good place to go fishing.  

Jackpine Lake

The fish were jumping and the mosquitos were thick.  I walked out onto a muddy spit to take a picture of the lake.  My flip-flops were sinking in the mud and making a weird, loud slurping sound.  I realized that I might lose them and turned around to go back.  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the frog.  He was sitting on a rock next to where I stood.  My camera was equipped with a wide angle lens, and my other lens was back at the picnic table.  

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,” I muttered to myself as I hurried back to the table to change lenses.  I kicked off my flip-flops and raced back to the spot I had seen the frog, mud squishing between my toes.  He was still there.  I took as many shots as I could, from as many angles as I could while trying not to disturb him.  

Columbia Spotted Frog

I enjoyed seeing the lake, and of course, my excitement at finding the frog had already made the whole trip worthwhile, but what really made this day special was the flowers.

Lance-leaved Stonecrop

The Southern Interior of BC is resplendent with wildflowers and this part of the year must be the peak of the season.

Orange Hankweed

The variety and abundance was simply amazing.  I knew I was going to regret having to look up so many different flowers, but I just couldn’t stop myself from taking the pictures.  

Graceful Cinquefoil

Here are a few that I found and was able to identify – maybe.

Broad-leaved Willowherb

Alpine Paintbrush

I took my time on the way home.  I followed a logging road up into the mountains and thought I’d like to come back and explore further on another day.  It would have to be another weekend, though.  I can’t imagine encountering a full logging truck on a road this narrow.  

Logging Road off of Bear Lake Main

I made it back to the main road, encountering more vehicles.  But somehow, I had gained a new perspective.  Previously, I thought that the reason people were so resistant to the development of a National Park in the area was because of the regulations it would bring.  No more forging new trails, random bonfires and target practise.  But the city of Kelowna, with a population of 180, 000, draws almost 2 million visitors per year.  A National Park in the area would draw attention to some of the lesser known places.  Maybe the people here just want to keep a little piece of it to themselves.  

Another Water Stump

Oxeye Daisy

Nature’s Garden

Can’t say I blame them.

Vaseux Lake

I am a bird nerd.  

I didn’t start out this way.  At one point in my life, I would have been hard pressed to name a single bird that wasn’t a Magpie or Mallard.  

Then came digital cameras and suddenly, I was a bird-watcher.  At first, that was a bit distressing to me.  I had this mental image of khaki shorts, a matching vest with lots of pockets, and a hat. Bird-watchers were NOT cool.  

Then I found out that we call ourselves “Birders” now, and I thought, “Okay, so maybe we’re not THAT uncool.”

Then I found out that we refer to hummingbirds as “hummers” and I thought, “No…No. We’re definitely NOT cool.”

Then I reached a point in my life where I just didn’t give a *&%@ what was cool anymore which, in itself, made me cool.  See?  It’s a process.

Chances are pretty good that no one uses the word cool anymore.  Don’t care about that either – and some people look good in khaki.

Back to birding.

I did a lot of birding in Alberta.  Some of my photos were included in Nature Alberta’s “Important Bird Areas” brochure, and one of my photos graces the cover of their checklist.  I knew lots of local hotspots for the peak migration periods.  I knew weird things like the fact that Snowy Owls are usually only found East of Deerfoot Trail.  You know, bird nerd stuff.

I admit, I’m a little lost here.  I don’t know where to go during migration.  I don’t even know for sure WHEN peak migration occurs here.  But I do know about Vaseux Lake.

Vaseux Lake is a Migratory Bird Sanctuary, located just south of Okanagan Falls.  It’s a popular spot for camping and fishing, but I was there for the birds.

There were no vehicles in the parking lot, and very few on the road, either.  But it was Canada Day and I was on the road by 7:00 am.  Most Canadians weren’t going to be up for another three hours or so.  I was kind of happy about that.  The last time I had visited Vaseux Lake, there were children running down the boardwalk, screaming with excitement and dogs running loose.  Not exactly ideal conditions for bird watching.

As I wandered down the boardwalk to the lake, there were plenty of things for me to look at.  

Ponderosa Pine Bark

I could hear lots of birds, but they were difficult to see in the thick canopy of leaves and branches.  I did spot an Oriole, a Waxwing and some Chickadees.  

Faces in the Wood – how many can you see?

There were huge dragonflies with black and white spots – 8 Spotted Skimmers – and of course, wildflowers.  

Showy Milkweed

There was also Poison Ivy, this time a bit of a concern as, even though I stayed on the boardwalk, at times I had to push through the vegetation that crowded it.

Poison Ivy

I reached the lake and the three storey bird blind and observation deck, where I was greeted by a curious little dude – a Bushy-tailed Wood Rat.  I’d never seen one before and this one was quite accommodating, sticking around long enough for me to shoot a couple of dozen photos.  

Bushy-tailed Wood Rat

I climbed to the top of the observation deck and looked out over the lake.  This is NOT a peak migration period, and most of the birds were out too far for me to get any clear shots.  I did see something interesting, however.

At first I thought I was looking at a few Ravens and Turkey Vultures hanging out on the shoreline.  It wasn’t until I zoomed in that I realized that there was another bird there – an immature Bald Eagle, and he was being attacked by the other birds.  I couldn’t determine how injured he was, but he was, in a way, saved by an errant kayaker who happened to come close.  The attacking birds flew off, and the eagle relocated to an island in the middle of the lake.  

I spent a good amount of time at the top of the observation deck.  I was trying to get a shot of a Marsh Wren that was flitting about the shoreline, plucking fluff from the cattails and taking it back to what I assume was the nesting site.  

Marsh Wren

The journey back along the boardwalk was pleasant.  The sun was getting hot and I was thankful for the shade of all those lovely trees.  

Unidentified Lepidoptera – if you can help me out with this one, I’d appreciate it!

I spotted a bird and lifted my camera.  To my delight, it was a Yellow-breasted Chat, the first one I’ve ever seen, a lifer.  Or so I thought. According to an early riser, this is actually a photo of a female Bullocks Oriole – but still a lifer! Thank you, Lois!

Female Bullocks Oriole

Could this day get any better?

Well, yes, it could.  There’s a Tickleberry’s on the way home.  Ice cream, anyone?

Browne Lake Ecological Reserve

One of my first job interviews in the Okanagan took place at a group home for disabled young men, located high in the hills on McCulloch Road.  I remember the awe I felt as I drove to the house.  I couldn’t believe this was considered to be part of the city!  It was the first time I’d heard of Scenic Canyon, or Myra-Bellevue Provincial Park, or the Kettle Valley Rail Trail, for that matter.  There was just so much up there to explore!  I visited the area a few times.  It was a very pleasant place to take a drive, especially in the early morning.  But every time I went, I was driven to distraction by what lay beyond the pavement of McCulloch Road.  

The sign says private property, no trespassing, entering West Bank First Nations.  But what did that mean?  Was it the property that was private, or the road?  I would stop in front of the gates and look down the road, desperately wanting to see where it led.  Each time, I would turn away, not wanting to overstep, and yet, incredibly disappointed.  

Remember a few weeks ago when I discovered that thing called “map”?  I decided to have a look and see what I could find out.  What I found was that the road led to a number of different places, including at least two that welcomed camping, and eventually exited onto Highway 33, east of Big White. That had to mean that the road was intended for public use!  I could take it, comfortable in the knowledge that I wasn’t just driving down someone’s very long, private driveway.  I was on my way to the Browne Lake Ecological Reserve.

In spite of the fact that the rest of the week had been rainy, the sky was clear and blue on the morning of my journey.  I reached the top of McCulloch Road without much difficulty.  There was a small delay as there is a new community in the works and the road has been torn up.  Plenty of dust in the air.  But once I made it past the construction, all was good.  I was actually giddy with excitement.

I was not disappointed.  The road was very well-maintained, and the only reason I drove as slowly as I did was because I wanted to.  There was no traffic.  In fact, the only vehicles I saw the entire day were two ATV’s and a motorcycle.  I was in heaven.

View from the road, lined with Wild Roses

The wildflowers are in full bloom, varied and abundant.  

Tiger Lily

When I’m on the road I like to turn off my stereo and open the windows wide, usually so I can hear the birds. I wasn’t expecting such a powerful smell.  At one point along the way, the scent of wild roses was so overwhelming, it was as though I had walked into a florist’s shop.  

Brown-eyed Susans

I stopped to take a picture of some Brown-eyed Susans.  While I was stopped, a Columbian Ground Squirrel came over to see what I was up to.  Then the two mule deer I hadn’t even seen decided to move a little further along, although they did let me take a few photos first.  

Cedar Waxwing

Everything was gorgeous – the landscapes, the rock formations, the forest, the flowers, the birds and even the tree stumps.  I took photos of at least three different tree stumps because each of them looked like it had been landscaped by creatures with very different tastes.  

Split-level with Garden

There were chipmunks everywhere, criss-crossing the road, posing, having sex…. Yeah.  I didn’t realize what I was photographing until I looked at the pictures later.  I told Santana I had chipmunk porn and he made me promise never to say those two words out loud again.

Yellow-pine Chipmunk not Engaged in Coitus

Eventually I reached the turnoff.  Browne Lake was on one side, and Fish Lake was on the other.  I chose to go to Browne Lake. 

Warning Sign

I was very excited by the sign posted at the entrance, although in hindsight, I’m not sure if it was referring to real wolves or a group of campers that call themselves the wolf pack.  Either way, it was hard to understand why someone would bring a goat to an area frequented by wolves.  Or why someone would bring a goat camping at all.  But there it was, wandering the campground, wearing a collar.  Very strange.

Browne Lake is beautiful.  As soon as I got out of the van, a bald eagle flew over the lake.  To my left was a quiet, pond-like section of the lake complete with lily pads and of course, Yellow Water Lilies.  

Yellow Water Lilies

Just then I heard the call of a loon and I was completely lost in the moment.  Such beauty!

Common Loon

I decided to follow a small road to the far side of the lake where there were cabins.  

View of Browne Lake

Freija Fritillary (Boloria freija)

I reached the cabins, all of which appeared to be private. The road kept going.  It was definitely rougher, but I didn’t stop.  I thought I would eventually reach a gate and have to turn around, but it didn’t happen.  The trees here were so thick that there was no green on the forest floor.  The road was narrow, rocky and rutted, but I’d driven worse.  Browne Lake was somewhere beyond the trees to my left.  On my right was another body of water that could only be Fish Lake.  Somehow, I had ended up in between the two of them.  Fish Lake was more pond-like and marshy, covered with lily pads and families of Greater Scaup.  I started to wonder how long it would be before this road reconnected with the main road.  I pulled out my phone to look at the map, laughing to discover that I wasn’t on a marked road at all.  My tiny blue dot was just drifting in the forest green between the two lakes.

Snowshoe Hare

A short while and a Snowshoe Hare later, I rejoined the main road, making a stop at Hydraulic Lake where I learned a little about Andrew McCulloch and the Kettle Valley Rail.  From Hydraulic Lake it is just a short distance to Highway 33.  Just before the exit, I came to an intersection.  The sign said Okanagan Falls Forestry Road.”  Does that mean…?  Is it…?

Now I’m going to have to go find out.  Put the coffee on, Faye, I’m coming over.  I just don’t know how long it will take me to get there.

Hardy Falls

When I first moved to the Okanagan, I was anxious to start exploring my new neighborhood.  One of the first places I wanted to visit was Hardy Falls, on the outskirts of Peachland.  Although Hardy Falls is a well-known attraction, I had never been and because it’s listed as an “easy” trail, I thought it would be a great place to start.  I was disappointed, however, to learn that it was closed, due to major flood damage that occurred in the spring of 2017. Here it was already a year later, and there was still no word on when it would reopen.

All that changed late last month, when it was announced that the trails were open after what ended up being a two-year closure.  Still, I hesitated, unsure of whether or not the walk was “easy” as advertised.  Then a friend posted pictures on her Face Book page and I was able to ask someone I trust, “How long does it take, really, to walk to the falls.”

“About ten minutes,” she said.

It’s on.

The day was perfect for a walk.  The sky was overcast, but there was no rain.  The forest and canyon were cool and quiet.  Santana and I had arrived quite early, and there were no other cars in the parking area. Mock-orange blossoms were everywhere, cascading down the canyon walls.  

Mock-orange Blossoms

Mock-orange Blossoms on Canyon Walls

The air was filled with morning birdsong.

We took our time.  The trail has been resurfaced and it’s wide and smooth.  There are benches strategically placed along the way to stop and rest, and I made sure to test them all.  They’re good, by the way.

Tree Stump

Robert Lynd once said, “In order to see birds it is necessary to become part of the silence.”

Say’s Phoebe

We were pretty quiet.

There are eight bridges that criss-cross Deep Creek on the way to the falls.  Two of the bridges were destroyed in the flooding.  The replacement bridges were brought in by helicopter this spring.  The fact that they were able to do that is kind of impressive, as the canyon walls are steep and close.

Canyon Walls

We arrived at the falls.  The trail has been shortened somewhat, due to a rock slide that occurred in 2009.  It was determined that the likelihood of another slide was inevitable and so for reasons of public safety, that section of the trail was permanently closed.

Hardy Falls

I was delighted to spot an American Dipper splashing and diving in the fast flowing creek and amused myself with trying to capture of photograph of him standing still.  They don’t do that very often.

American Dipper

In hindsight, I wish I had taken note of the information provided on the platform at the falls, with regard to the geographical makeup of the area.  There are many different types of rock visible, and the canyon was formed in part to some of that rock being softer than the rest.  The various rock formations are beautiful, and anyone who knows me knows that I’m a huge fan of moss.

Moss and Blossoms

There was Meadow Buttercup growing along the shore of the creek, and many other wildflowers that I would be seriously challenged to name.  There are warning signs for Poison Ivy but as long as you stay on the trail, that isn’t an issue.

Meadow Buttercup

This stream is important to spawning Kokanee Salmon, and I fully intend to come back in the fall to watch.

Water-bleached Wood

By the time we got back to the Kia, more than an hour had passed.  But my friend didn’t lie.  It really SHOULD only take ten minutes to walk to the falls.  There just wasn’t anywhere I would have rather been.

Foreground to Hardy Falls


Peachland Lake

I had a plan.  I had no money, so I didn’t want to use too much gas.  It was hot, so I didn’t want to do a whole lot of walking.  It was early, so starting my morning at the beach sounded like a great idea.  I had to drop Santana off at work, so Rotary Beach in West Kelowna would be my starting point.  From there, I would make a stop at Glenn Canyon, and from there, head out to the newly re-opened Hardy Falls in Peachland.

That was the plan.  That was the plan I laid out for Santana, anyway.  But once I was at the beach in West Kelowna, I started having different ideas.

While looking at the map a few weeks ago, I noticed a place called Peachland Lake.  Peachland is a small town on the shores of the Okanagan Lake.  Who knew they had a lake of their own?  I checked the map again.  From where I was, it was only 39 km to the lake, although, for some reason, the map feature said it would take an hour and a half to get there.  There was a small warning flashing at the top of the screen.

“May involve gravel roads.”

Well, that wasn’t much of a warning.  I don’t mind gravel roads.  And hey, no time like the present!

Arctic Lupine

Arctic Lupine

It started out auspiciously enough.  The directions led me to the Brenda Mine road – the same road I took to get to Silver Lake.  But instead of turning off, this time I continued on the nicely paved road.  I had marked the location on the map, but every time I stopped, or backed up for another look at something, Siri would tell me I had arrived, and I would have to reload the location.  That worked fine until I got high enough in the hills that there was no more cell service.  After that I had to hold the map in one hand and watch for the turnoff while driving.  Eventually, I found the turnoff which, incidentally, was quite well marked.  That’s when things started to get a little sketchy.


Does that Look Like Gravel to You?

The road could be called gravel, I suppose, but really, it was rock.  It was a narrow rock road with deep ruts and sharp stones.  It required my full attention to avoid obstacles in my way.  Again, as is my habit apparently, I considered turning back, and each time I thought that I must be close.  The tires on the minivan are in good shape, but they are narrow and don’t inspire a great deal of confidence.  Do I even have a spare?  If so, where was it?  If not, what the %&*^ was I doing up here?


Colony of Mushrooms Growing under a Dead Stick

There were places that trees had come down across the road and someone had cut them away.  There was a strong wind blowing.  What would I do if a tree came down and I couldn’t get out?  I don’t carry a chainsaw.  I pulled over to the side of the road, took out my phone and wrote the following message to Santana.

“I changed my plan and decided to go to Peachland Lake.  If I don’t make it out, send the search party this way.”

I pressed send.

Yeah.  No cell service.  I forgot.

By now the road was too narrow to turn around.  But through the trees, I could see water.  Might as well go see the lake.  I came to a fork in the road.  I chose the right-hand path.  I came to a fast-moving stream.


Mountain Stream headed to Peachland Lake

The road over it was not even a road at this point.  It was like someone had taken a culvert and piled rocks on top of it.  Holding my breath, I drove over it.  And then I was there.  The shores of the lake were more of the same – rock – but at least it was wide enough to turn around.  I took out my beach blanket and settled on the smoothest spot I could find. It was quite lovely.


Peachland Lake and the Rocks they Built the Road With

The wind was creating waves on the lake, and the Western Tiger Swallowtail I was watching sought shelter on the ground.

Western Tiger Swallowtail

Western Tiger Swallowtail

Using my big lens as binoculars, I looked over the shores of the lake.  There were people camping to my left.  I watched as the wind picked up a tent and it was barely rescued before landing in the lake.  I imagine it wasn’t easy pounding pegs into a rocky surface.

It was a relief to know there were other humans in the area.  It was less likely I would die if I became stranded. I was comfortable enough with the idea that I ate the slice of banana bread I’d brought with me.  No need to hold on to it.

Mountain Arnica

Mountain Arnica

After my picnic, I decided to leave.  I was less troubled by the drive out.  Because it was uphill for much of the way, I didn’t have to focus so much on controlling my speed over the rough surface.  I was able to relax a bit and enjoy the drive, even stopping now and then to take some pictures.


Mountain Meadow and More Rocks They Built the Road With


Mule Deer

I learned a fair bit from my journey.  Number one is to find out if I have a spare. Number two is to make sure to inform someone if I change my plan before I leave cell phone range.  But I learned something else as well.  When I got home, I looked it up. It turns out that had I gone left instead of right when I reached that fork in the road, I would have ended up at a campground with tables and toilets and everything.

But where’s the fun in that?


View from Brenda Mine Road