After an initial bout of frustration and existential exasperation with the universe's thwarting of well laid plans, Andrew and I decided to make do with our lot in life. And what a lot it turned out to be! Point C ended up being quite the point indeed (see previous entry "Point C not Point B").
With three days to spare before the next ferry to the Queen Charlottes, we decided to set off on a bike and hike down a small coastal road. The costal road soon came to an end and we continued down the CN rails. The spectacular route, meandered along the lengthy, mountain and cliff strewn mouth of the Skeena river as it flows into the ocean.
Our hike took to the beach when the terrain and tides were right and the rails when things got too tight. We made our way to a an outcrop we had spied on Google Earth with old growth cedars, wind swept rocks, black beach and a sweeping panoramic vista of snow capped mountains. We set up camp. Wind and weather conspired to two frightfully cold nights. Our consolation however was the full moon rising above the mountains, reflecting in ocean at our door step.
Yesterday, we set off again down the line to an a ghost town/cannery abandoned at least 80 years ago in the middle of nowhere. Rusted steel pipes, sprockets, and mammoth boilers poked out of the moss and sand like mangled idols of some ancient tribe.
I supposed in a way the metaphor isn't too far off. This machinery was the heart of incredibly isolated operations and communities of men and women processing the salmon and the timber of this verdant coast. The community living and camaraderie must have been intense. The rotting planks and discarded machinery are the last vestiges of their life and mark on this place.