Moberly Lake to Muncho Lake

It was late in the day by the time I reached the Moberly Lake campground, but as far as I could tell, there was only one other group in the facility.  Of all the campsites, this had the nicest location.  Although lacking in showers or even running water, the best spots in camp sat on little gravel platforms with clear views of the lake.  As I set up my tent, the evening sun was still high in the sky and a light breeze picked up tiny waves all across the water. 

The next morning I had a big drive planned.  I was crossing the “boring part,” as a visitor center attendant called it, and cutting through the mountains far to the North, past Ft. Nelson.  As it turns out, today’s drive was probably the most uniform scenery for such a long stretch that I’ve seen so far.  Hill after hill rolled by, carpeted with a continuous spruce forest.  By the side of the road, the cleared sections had giant furrows carved in where spring creeks had run through grassy hills.  I saw some black bears sitting by the road, munching whatever was growing in the cleared sections between highway and forest.  They reminded me of giant toddlers who were perfectly happy sitting almost cross- legged in the grass. 

After Ft. Nelson, the scene changed to Birch forests and more lumbering bears.  According to the man at the info center in Ft. Nelson, there were more bears than people in the Northeastern section of BC and I was about to drive through what he called the “Serengeti of the North.” I was skeptical, but on the road from Ft. Nelson through the mountains, my bear count grew to 14 and I saw two more moose if you count the one keeled over on the side of the road. With the size of that moose, I wonder how the car that hit it looked. At Toad River, I couldn’t find any campsite, provincial or otherwise, so I headed on and landed at Muncho Lake for the night.  This site was similarly deserted, but with a few more RV’s and an even better view than last night.  Before I fell asleep, I saw the snowy mountain opposite my camp was reflected in the perfectly calm water.  According to a brochure I picked up in Ft. Nelson, the electric blue of Muncho Lake is the result of dissolved copper oxide.

Muncho Lake the first evening

 

Muncho Lake the next morning

 

As I woke up the next morning, I could hear what sounded like glass wind chimes or someone sorting through a recycling bin. I unzipped my tent, the chilly air showing my breath and making my nose run, and I saw that lake had frozen over.  When the sun rose, the ice broke apart and thinned with the sound of falling glass.  I pumped up the inflatable kayak I brought and launched into the lake, each paddle stroke through the chunks of ice giving a different  chime.