Up for sale from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken makes a short stop at the now closed Bednesti Lake Resort…
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Up for sale
October 17th, 2011Brookside Resort
October 17th, 2011Brookside Resort from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken stops for a short, if unexpected, break at the Brookside Resort on his way to Prince George and the sharp right turn south towards Vancouver
Beyond Vanderhoof
October 17th, 2011Beyond Vanderhoof sixty miles east to Prince George and the highway south towards Vancouver. My map suggested nothing along the road but, twenty or so miles on, Brookside Resort. Small gas station, hot showers, campground, laundromat and convenience store. Dusty.
A little further on the First Nations Bednesti Lake Resort. Saik’uz First Nation Cultural and Exchange Centre. Closed. Fairly recently I thought. Now up for sale. Disappointing, not least because it looked to have potential. Instead, it appeared to be yet another failed indigenous business.
I was struggling to understand why. Trying to reconcile the individual charm and friendliness of the First Nations – indigenous or aboriginal – people I’d met with increasingly apparent societal issues. Drugs. Foetal Alcohol Syndrome. Failed businesses where I thought others might have succeeded.
Quizzed in Vanderhoof
October 17th, 2011Quizzed in Vanderhoof from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Finally making it to Vanderhoof at the end of a long day, Ken wins a substantial discount on his camping fee..
General knowledge
October 17th, 2011Who wrote "I Claudius" asked Carl? I’d absolutely no idea. Vague recollections of a BBC television series in the 70’s. Derek Jacobi. Brian Blessed. Frankie Howard. Perhaps I was getting confused with "Carry On Cleo". Next question. What symbol associated with Joan of Arc did De Gaulle and the Free French adopt during the Second World War? A burning stake didn’t seem quite right, so suggested it must be a cross. Warm. But not quite right.
Fortunately I’d made something of an inspired guess at the first question. Santa Fe the Capital of which US State? Sounded Mexican to me, but we were talking USA. So went for New Mexico. Bingo. Playing for what Carl the warden had described as a substantial discount on the camping fee. Get one question out of three right and it’d be mine. Done. Five bucks rather than fifteen.
A curious end to a long day. Eight miles or so to Vanderhoof. Reaching the campground at dusk. Greeted by Carl as he’d been out collecting dues. In his hand a small receipt book and a quiz manual.
Jehovah’s Witnesses
October 17th, 2011Jehovah’s Witnesses from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Making a brief road side stop for coffee, Ken meets some Jehovah’s Witnesses
Lakes Country
October 17th, 2011
Through Lakes Country
October 17th, 2011Fort Fraser, she explained, had a population of over three thousand in the early 1900s. Railroad you see. But today, just a few hundred. I’d reached Fraser Lake late in the afternoon, making a short stop at the information centre to see what I could glean about the road ahead. I was sure the lady was trying to be helpful, but her knowledge seemed mostly historic.
Burns Lake had been uninspiring and I’d been glad to leave. Continuing east towards Prince George, a couple of days away. A few lakes along the highway, as might befit the Lakes Country. Pleasant woodlands. In the morning I’d met Russell and his fellow Jehovah’s Witnesses at a rest stop.
Then, as I’d pulled away, Simon and Clint. I’d done some filming with them for Tourism British Columbia a few days earlier. Heading back east as floods had taken out bridges and thwarted their plans.
There’d been little on the road between Burns Lake and Fraser Lake, bar a small pub at Endako. Inside a couple of women enjoying a late lunch. An elderly man wandered in. Regular I thought. Bar maid served him without asking what he wanted.
I’d been greeted into Fraser Lake by a wedding procession. Cars and trucks, led by the newlyweds, heading out of town, cacophony of horns. Two women wandering towards me along the shoulder, oblivious to my approach until I’d almost reached them. One smiled.
Thin veneer
October 16th, 2011No, she explained, they’d no rooms. Lost their license. I nodded, shrugged my shoulders, and left. Fifteen precious minutes of daylight wasted. Outside, across the car park, lights on in a few of the cabins. Frustrating. I’d queued patiently, trapped between two bickering women. Stuff of soap operas. One accusing the other of raking up an old affair with her brother five years earlier.
I’d reached Burns Lake close to sunset. On the face of it respectable enough. Smart elementary school, similarly the by now closed information centre. But a brief ride around and it was soon clear there were issues. Drugs. Foetal alcohol syndrome. Quick foray into the Municipal campground. Skateboard park close by. Too many people taking too much interest in me. And too late to head out of town.
I’d remembered a small motel on the way in. Sign proclaimed it was First Nations owned. And the Rainbow symbol suggested inclusiveness. And cheap. Decided to see if I could get a room for the night. Secure. Away from prying eyes. But no. I’d half a suspicion they’d lost their room license through plain apathy. Making enough with a brisk trade in cigarettes and alcohol.
Topley tales
October 16th, 2011Above the door a toy rifle with a sign beneath it. "We don’t dial 9.1.1". Small cafe with a pig theme. Porcelain, plastic, most terribly tacky ornaments, others with a modicum of taste. A young child struggled towards the exit, pausing occasionally to rest and catch her breath. Doubted if she was little more than ten years old. Very sad.
Continuing my journey east towards Prince George, I’d made a late afternoon stop in Topley. Small motel, pleasant enough with cosy looking white-painted wooden cabins. Quaint. And a grill – the cafe I’d stopped in – and grocery store.
Outside I’d met Sue. She’d done some cycling, but, as she explained, with just the one road options were limited. Was I ready for Six Mile Hill? I answered with a blank expression. Glad I’d had a dollop of ice cream with my pie.
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