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I've been back in Gold Bridge since Tuesday trying to write something coherent about my trip down the Fraser River. The words feel fleeting and flat--not enough to describe the power of the river and how transfixed I feel after floating down its spine.

I will say that this town feels like home, and I've now officially been here for just over a year. Being in North Vancouver at my parent's house for a couple of days after the trip was great, but it felt fast and full of sensory overload, especially after coming from living in the peaceful outdoors for 25 days.

This evening I took Sanford for a walk along the cliff-edged Hurley River after working at the school getting myself and the classroom organized for the start of another school year. I'm really excited to be back at work, and after being away for the summer the beauty of the river stunned me all over again as I watched the swirling turquoise water lurch between rocks against a backdrop of red rock bluffs and aging fir trees.

I walked with Scott, Sanford's owner who happened to be heading out at the same time, and we talked about all the mining history in the area. It was kind of nice to walk with someone else for a change, since I am almost always wandering this path on my own with just Sanford for company. He told me about how the canyon was made, with the glacier and melt water carving its way through the porous volcanic and softer rock, leaving the harder rock of the canyon walls in tact as the water bled a deeper trench beside the steepening walls. He also mentioned that this area, one of my evening walk standards, is a favourite hunting spot for cats (yes cougars), hence the tracks I have come across in the snowfall. Thank goodness I have had Sanford with me on all those walks!