Under the High Chair Travels: Northern British Columbia
My first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains from my seat at 35,000 feet always evokes deep emotion. It's a feeling of renewed wonder, childlike excitement, and a sense of homecoming so strong I have to duck my head to hide my tears. This quickening of my pulse and butterflies in my stomach almost make up for the last five hours of Noah using my face as a motorcross course, my thighs as a trampoline, and my clothes as sponges for juice. It's been a long flight and I am returning to my hometown in Northern British Columbia.
The Bulkley Valley is nestled between three major mountain ranges, has several rivers that divide the rolling farmland, and boasts clear blue, glacial-fed lakes. I could write a whole travel brochure on how picturesque it is and still never do it justice; however, I have traveled a lot and declare this some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever known.
My parents property is a magical, overgrown 23 acres tucked under the shadow of a huge mountain and near a private lake. The setting effortlessly encourages a reversion back to childhood; for who wants to do grown-up things when one can chase ducks, climb trees, catch minnows, gather flowers and pick berries?
Ah, the berries.
I had barely dropped my suitcase on the front porch before I was out in the hillsides, on hands and knees, picking wild strawberries. They were everywhere and they were big. The first taste brought back so many memories of being a little girl, when I would pick handful after handful and eat them all myself, my hands stained with the juice.
Wild strawberries can hardly be compared with domestic. They are intensely sweet, powerfully fragrant and so juicy it requires a delicate hand to gather them. They are probably among my top five favorite things to eat ever, and it's rare that I get a chance to eat a whole bowl of them.
So I had two.
There was even enough left over for Noah's cereal in the morning. How decadent!
We're off to a great start here in beautiful B.C.