Scary frickin' bridge, oh mamma. No I did not look down, yes, I did think it would pull an Indiana Jones, break, and slam me into the rocks below, yes, I am wuss. However on the way back I perfected my non-bridge-shaking walk and managed to peek over the edge. Beerk.
Next to the bridge...
Moss moss everywhere...
The paths are leaf covered and wet with clear water constantly running in tiny streams down whatever hill they can find. Air is clean and green-smelling, trees are utterly tall. This was about 4pm, in a bit of a clearing, and otherwise already dark under the canopy...
Even I would not drink a martini here.
I'd love to see this in the sun. It seemed a quintessentially American river. The fork, the white boulders, the aspens, the clear, rapid water.
Crazy Canadian dog...
The pool at the head of this part of the river, and below a cataract that pours into turquoise so deep it is scary. Massive trees crowding round...I kept wondering where Burt Reynolds and his crossbow were.
Hello Marie
ReplyDeleteI've just returned from a beautiful folliage filled hotel in Jimena in Spain and checked your website to find it takes me back to my former home!! Thank you for the wonderful views of the Vancouver skyline, Stanley Park, Lynn Canyon and other familiar and favourite aspects of a place I was very happy in for 10 years. I am now homesick as well as filled with the post holiday blues...!
love from aka Her Indoors
Hello Anne! I had no idea...how strange, the coincidence. Yes, I did fall in love with Vancouver.
ReplyDeleteNice bridge crossing... And I thought you were giving me the cat walk... ;-)
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