STORIES

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

From Hope to the Shuswap

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Community: Upper Fraser

Chasing the Sockeye, Part 2 (Part 1, Part 3)

We continue on out of Hope on the trail of the Adams River Sockeye. Following the rising road and river and land we enter the steep-sided mountains and churning white water of the Fraser Canyon. Yale blinks past in a cluster of tourist shops, rafting operations and gold panning advertisements.

We stop at a viewpoint and look down into the canyon at the waters running deep and mirrored. The river has narrowed, condensed and sped up in the deep pools. Whirlpools spin off of rocky cliffs that bracket the flow of water. The river is deep and thick here: a complex, swirling mass of falling, flowing water. We see no fish rising to its surface.

Along we press on the edge of the canyon. Rail tracks run parallel to our path on the opposite cliff wall. Tunnels rear up ahead, each named for its location on the river: Saddle Rock, Sailor Bar, China Bar. I imagine the builders of these tunnels and train tracks over a hundred years ago, with their basic tools and hard labour to drive the trans-continental task to completion.

We cross the river to the south wall and burst onto Hell’s Gate, a tourist attraction tramway that suspends visitors above the frothy white water of the Fraser at its fastest and narrowest point. We stop and get out to stretch our legs, crane our necks over the edge to catch a glimpse of the roaring water. But we can’t see anything. Hell’s Gate is closing for the day. The last tram load of passengers has just returned.

We browse the information posters in the lobby and learn about the fish ladders the Adams River Sockeye will be climbing through Hell’s Gate. A friendly attendent tells us we can hike down to a viewing platform, which would make for about a 1 hour round trip. Then we’re back out on the road to Boston Bar.

At Lytton we drop down off the highway, through the main street to the bridge at the confluence of the Fraser and Thompson rivers. Below us is the junction of watery stems that drain a quarter of the area of BC. The dark Thompson and cloudy Fraser meet in a Y shape and flow on to the ocean together. Where they join their colours run separate, a line marking their mixing almost out of sight.

A few fish jump far below us. The wind is fierce up the Fraser valley, rippling the water below in quivering gusts. We walk out onto the bridge above the Thompson and hear a steady, even humming from the wind through the slats of the walkway, like a collection of tiny tuning forks ringing at once. As we approach the middle of the bridge the humming grows louder with the force of the gusts; the wind whistles as I cover my ears and the humming fills my head with sound.

Three rail cars from a recent derailment lie torn in the river below us; such huge, heavy things fallen and mangled. We see our first fish, a Sockeye, on the surface, drifting downstream with the current of the Thompson, the path we will follow and the path of the Adams River Sockeye. I film it pass underneath us. It is dead, its body arced into a quarter moon shape as if it were still alive, ready to flex back to life. The water runs low in the rivers and it feels like a great weight has settled in on us, the energy of departure replaced by the distance to cover, the struggle of the salmon, the wish to see them all make it to the Adams.

From Cache Creek to Kamloops the land recedes, flattens and grows older. Rocks grow softer, eroded. The landscape takes on the look of an archeology dig, all eroded and crumbling in coppers, silvers, yellows and browns. The Thompson bends around and back far below, itself changing as well, taking on the look of trout stream, all riffles, pockets of boulders and gravel shoals flanked by stands of hardwoods on the banks.

Gradually, as the day fades to dusk, we start to see the Thompson spread at intervals into lakes. Kamloops Lake is first, followed by another whose name we miss. As darkness descends we feel heartened because the lakes offer some respite for the salmon. Deep waters remain cooler, slow currents easier to swin through.

We carry on through Kamloops towards the Shuswap, the river now just a silvery reflection through the trees beside us. The final bridge we cross spans Little River, the last stretch of channel before Shuswap Lake and the mouth of the Adams River. Signs point to Roderick Haig-Brown Provincial Park and we swing off the highway towards this place named after the emblemic fly fisherman, writer and conservationist.

Tonight we sleep on the shore of the Little Shuswap Lake. Tomorrow we meet the Sockeye salmon of the Adams River.

• Read Chasing the Sockeye, Part 1: From Vancouver to Hope.
• Read Chasing the Sockeye, Part 3: Finding the Adams River Sockeye.
• See all our photos on the THINK SALMON Flickr page.