Above the Clouds at Blue Jay Lake | Bella Coola #3

After returning from Purgatory - not a statement one can make on a regular basis - it was time to consider our next move. There were three things that were competing for our attention:

The weather. We'd been planning to spend at least three nights in the area, but in the week preceding our departure, the weather guessers suggested that four days of rain would start somewhere in the middle of our visit. Rain wouldn't be the end of the world - dark skies can make for some dramatic photos - but we wanted to get as many "big views" as we could before visibility became limited.
The smoke. There was more of it - which is to say, it was not "none" - than we'd expected. The rain would probably tamp some of it down, but we were pretty sure we wouldn't be around after the rain. Still, with winds out of the west, it seemed prudent to head west for the cleanest air.
The f#$%ing mosquitoes. @mrs.turbodb had researched a few very enticing hikes for us - to overlooks and waterfalls - and usually these would be on the top of our list. But we had no desire to become bug bait on a 12-mile hike.

Ultimately, we decided to mostly ignore the weather and smoke, but to definitely not ignore our desire to head home as itch-free as possible. That pointed to a more relaxed trip than normal - with the possibility of napping in place of hiking - and that was just fine with us!

And it meant that we were in no rush. And it was almost lunch time, so we decided to find a place nearby where we could enjoy some of the fabulous fare we'd brought along to consume.

Spotting a picnic area near the falls and on the inlet, I audibly voiced my hope that it'd be a little less buggy since it was so close to town. I didn't suspect that it actually would be, but I could always hope! Plus, we had to eat somewhere, so we might as well do it with an ocean view.

The view from our picnic table, and a damn nice spot to enjoy a meal.

Lunch was a delicacy that we'd enjoyed on our previous outing - the Montana Backcountry Discovery Route - and consisted of caprese sandwiches, potato chips, and fresh blueberries. The best part, though, was the fact that there wasn't a bug to be found, anywhere, as we watched the turquoise waves lap up against the waving grass, and the shadows of clouds cascade over the snowy peaks. Paradise.

There may not have been any insects, but that didn't mean we had the place to ourselves. This American red squirrel wouldn't have turned down a tasty snack.

After a leisurely lunch, it was time to get on with the rest of our leisurely day. With only four things left on the agenda - drive to camp, nap, eat dinner, and go to bed - the nap was surely in contention for being the longest slice of the afternoon. We needed to be careful; we could get used to schedules like this.

Soon, we were back on dirt, headed to a lake some 26 km out of town.

I often complain about tree tunnels, but this one was brilliant, and would be even more breathtaking in the fall.

Like the previous evening, the route into the mountains was magnificent. A bit steeper and rockier - and in some places narrower - the route seemed to climb through layers of ecosystem as we gained elevation. In each band, the views became broader, the sky bluer, and the peaks more numerous. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day.

Starting up, a mix of deciduous and evergreen trees.

As the trees shrank, the mountains took their place.

Ultimately, we'd crest the ridge - two miles from salt water and many more from town - right around 4,200 feet. In normal times, this would have been the perfect spot to camp, but not today. Or at least, not until we worked our way to the end of the road, a mile closer to the sea. For now, we wondered at the expansive views in every direction; they were - without a doubt - reason enough for the journey.

We almost missed the view to the east, until I just happened to spot it in my side view mirrors. That was more than enough reason to turn around and enjoy it for a few minutes!

Headed down off the ridge, it was time for a friendly wager. Having seen two trucks head this way the previous evening - enough to make us rearrange our plans - I asked my companion how many other vehicles she thought we'd find at the lake when we arrived. Her answer - four - seemed a little high to me, so I guessed three.

Not that either of us wanted there to be any, but it seemed like such a fantastical place that there was no way we'd have it to ourselves.

As we neared the end of the road, a primitive campground - nestled into the trees - materialized next to the lake. Six campsites, and the end of the road.

We were alone.

With the whole place to ourselves, we saw no need to camp in the trees.

Mike @Digiratus would be proud. It was 3:15pm, a full six hours before sunset. It was easily the earliest we'd ever arrived in camp.

The mosquitoes here were not as bad as they'd been the previous evening, but they were still thick enough to keep us moving when we were outside the cab and not yet in the protective confines of the tent. And so, after a few minutes exploring our surroundings, it was time for a nap.

We weren't entirely alone. Siggy - a short-billed gull - complained quite loudly to his buddies that we'd invaded his personal space. For literal hours on end.

I've said this on the other two occasions that we've taken naps over the decade we've been exploring: we really should partake in an afternoon siesta more often. It is so pleasant to lie - protected from the mosquitoes - in a warm breeze, with views of alpine lakes, and with no feeling of "needing to keep moving." This feeling is, I suppose, the curse of an explorer. Always on the move. Always looking for the next amazing thing to see. Always worried that it may not be there, tomorrow.

It was four hours later when we finally decided it was time for dinner. This would be - it was obvious from the layer of mosquitoes perched on the screens - another in-cab event, and soon we were comfortably enjoying another round of chicken pesto pasta with the most wonderful golden light illuminating the surroundings.

After dinner, there was only one thing to do: round two of the most enjoyable thing we'd done all day.

The following morning...

I'd worried that it'd be raining when we woke up the next morning. After all, the weather guessers had implied that there was a good chance it would be raining even as we'd gone to bed. To our delight, the sky never got the memo, and there were patches of blue poking through as we pulled on our clothes and battled the bugs to eat breakfast and break camp.

Doesn't get much better than having your own bathroom.

The plan for the day was conceptually straightforward: repeat yesterday. In practice, it would entail a bit of driving - first on pavement, before regaining dirt - and we hoped to stay mostly ahead of the approaching storm. At the very least, we were conscious of the fact that any late-afternoon window of "dry" should be taken advantage of for dinner.

In fact, the day would be nothing like what we expected. It would be significantly better!