The spot we had chosen for our camp was about 30 yards from the road, 8 or 10 feet above the river. On our side the trees had been cut and burned off, leaving only scrub and some scattered trees of small size growing up a steep slope across the road, but the other side the river a small flat was thickly covered with spruce, tamarack and cotton-wood, hiding the railroad which clung to the opposite hillside: behind us the river upstream swung sharply to the South, away from the wooded hill down which we had come. Down stream, a narrow valley with tree grown walls interspersed with patches of bare rock led to a view of mountains closing at the end of the valley. The whole, with the quick play of strong sunlight and shadow, the sparkling water, the green of the spruce and fir, accentuated by the red trunks of the latter, with here and there the grey or blue rocks showing through, made a picture of wonderful beauty, and one we should have been loath to leave had we not known that still more glorious scenery awaited us. When packing up after lunch we missed a kit bag belonging to L., and as this was known to have been in place not long before. B. and the Kid went back with Maudie to look for it, leaving the photographers to be driven nearly insane by the limitations of the camera. The Kid, who was watching the road while B. drove, justified his scout training by noticing a place about 300 yards from camp where a car which had passed while we were at lunch had stopped and backed up, and on closer examination the marks in the dust showed plainly where something had lain. Maudie was promptly called upon to step lively in the hope of overtaking these petty larceny, kit bag kidnapers - the place was in sight of our camp and a shout would have easily been heard. Fortune was with us, for upon reaching the public campsite a party was found to be camping there, and the Kid going in to make inquiries found them to be the same party to have passed us and recovered the kit bag. Perhaps the fact that these people deliberately chose to stop where they did is sufficient explanation of their failure to make any attempt to call to our attention when the bag was found by them. "Souvenirs" explain a number of thefts.

On returning, L. and W. were picked up and the journey continued down the valley, which is a real pass between the hills. In places the railway 50 to 60 feet above the road clings like a swallow's nest to the face of the hills, it's roadbed being held up by masonry built into the hillside, again taking a big loop and dropping to the level of the road.

About five miles beyond Michel, which is a dirty, dismal, mining town, the streets of which are made of cinders that have also overflowed into what should have been the gardens, we came out into the true Elk River Valley. This is a wide valley coming down from the North, bounded on its Western side by a range of mountains known as the Lizard Range, with it sides badly scarred by forest fires. From here to Fernie the country has been badly cut over and burnt, and this was perhaps the least interesting stretch of road covered while in the Province.

Just before reaching Fernie, 33 miles from Crow's Nest, we pulled up to try for a picture of Mt. Hosmer which rises to the height of 8,000 feet, its sides showing plainly the course of past snow slides. By bad luck, the clouds were now so heavy that a good picture was impossible at the distance - added to which there was considerable smoke haze. For many dusty miles we, poor victims of a fanatical - but organized - minority coercing a pusillanimous government in our province, had looked forward to our arrival in Fernie, the first point within the B. C. borders where the benevolent and business government of that province dispenses - for a price - to traveler and resident alike the milk of human kindness, balm for the weary, health for the sick, hope for the hopeless, joy for the sad. But luck was against us, as, having on our arrival in town duly registered the party and made inquiries as to the laws of the province, we then found that the day being Wednesday and the local half holiday all the stores and government offices were closed, but we succeeded in obtaining a passport from the provincial police and supplies from a small store outside the town limits.

The scenery from Fernie to Elko - 18 miles distant - is famous for its wildness, continuing down the river valley with the Lizards a rampart to the West, but unlike the valley North of Fernie, almost all untouched by fire, The trail keeps to the east side of the river, sometimes climbing to a considerable height above it, then dropping to a lower level, but leaving the general impression of going up hill. The Return trip confirms this impression, there appearing to be more downhill than up. B. maintains, therefore, that the river runs uphill.

Ten miles from Fernie a sign by the road "Silverspring Lake 400 yards" arrested our attention, so pulling to the side of the road we left Maudie to rest while we literally climbed up to the lake. At the start we noticed that an additional nought had been added to the figures and by the time we reached the lake we were quite convinced that this had been done by some stickler for the truth. The lake was well worth the climb, however, set in a fold of the hills, we came upon it at the head of a narrow inlet. Here we were in heavy shadow, the rocky shores rising almost perpendicularly behind a fringe of trees we reproduce in the still, clear water. Further out the water sparkled in brilliant sunshine, and the hills rose in one grand sweep from the water's edge to skyline, their height dwarfing the scattered trees which clothed their sides.

Continuing our journey, we followed on down the valley, the scenery proving simply magnificent, with the road now climbing the knees of the hills, now descending into the valley. There were still too many clouds for good snap-shots: it was also by this time late afternoon, but even had the light been perfect no camera could reproduce the wonderful colouring and ever changing shadows, as the sun broke through the hurrying clouds. We crossed the river just below Elko, but instead of turning up through the village continued on downstream to the canyon. The river here passes through a deep, narrow, gorge in a series of rapids and falls. The sides of the canyon are too precipitous to allow of a descent except in certain places and as the evening was drawing in we did not attempt to get down to the water. Promising ourselves to revisit the place on the return trip, but in case of accidents taking a view (time exposure in spite of poor light).

Retracing the road to Elko, we passed through the village and drove on 10 miles, when we camped about 1 mile out of Jaffray at 8:30 p.m. The camp was by the side of a stream in a fair shelter, with sufficient pine and mixed brush to provide the beds, and although we had only covered 99 miles, including side trips, we were quite ready to do justice to our supper when L. announced that "the oxen and fatlings were gathered together and all things were ready".