I’m a little worried I’m repeating myself.

See, I’m about to write yet another post about a long drive on a forest service road in British Columbia. Another post about taking a highway to a dead end terminus past some gorgeous costal mountain views.

And heck, another post where I fail to visit a volcano.

So, if you’re still with me, I promise to mix things up.

I also fail to visit a fish ladder, a museum, and a sacred hot springs.

Two out of four missed opportunities were because it was a Wednesday and not a Monday. (And probably also because it wasn’t quite season yet in early June.)

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Along the way I eat some pretty good fish and chips, and get to see some spectacular and sacred lava flows. For I am visiting the lands of the Nisg̱a’a on the wrong day of the week.

I awoke earlier than I planned, to a pitter patter of raindrops hitting the outside of my tent.

Sleepless and under-caffienated, I loaded local weather radar on my phone. The rain wouldn’t stop for hours. The nearest town was surrounded by a large, green blob.

After much deliberation, I pulled myself out of my orange sleeping bag, and made myself coffee in the steady, but not too heavy, rain. I packed up my tent and left the campground.

The Babine Mountains were even more shrouded in clouds and rain than they were the day before. It was a tad dreary. It would have been nice to see them more clearly. But, there were plenty of other mountains for me to see that day.

The day’s journey would take me all the way to Alaska and back.

(…and by Alaska, I mean one of the southernmost, most easily accessed parts of the U.S. state. The section that is popular with tourists who want to say they drove to Alaska, without having to actually drive to Anchorage or something.)

I embarked on a four hour drive with Prince George in my rear view mirror. My heart, heavier than expected.

My next stop: Smithers, B.C.

It’s a small town with a good reputation for recreation. Nestled between lakes and the Babine Mountains in the scenic Bulkley Valley, it is definitely the town to visit on the drive from Prince George to Prince Rupert.

So, naturally, I had opted to spend less than a day checking out the area, during a time when the mountains were snow covered and surrounded by clouds. 😓

Can’t win ’em all.

CUT TO - INT - An unusually crowded floating lodge.

It is roughly a week after STEVE has visited Prince George. We meet our hero mid-conversation with a biology/forestry professor who is from the area.

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INT - STEVE is doing work inside of an Airbnb. STEVE glances at the clock.

Last time, STEVE visited a city park and met some MISSIONARIES.

This time, STEVE climbs up the worst kind of moderate, minor mountain. A taunting, teapot mountain.

Our story begins thusly:

INT - STEVE is doing work at the dining table inside of an Airbnb. STEVE glances at the weather forecast.

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Prince George is a crossroads, a place that many pass through, and a hub of industry in Northern British Columbia. It is a confluence of rivers, railroads, and highways, and it was my port of call for a few days. I was taking a rest from driving and hiking, and working remotely – (well, and also probably doing some driving and hiking on the side.)

Get some work done, I would. But, would I find the city’s hidden charm?

This is the beginning of my take and my feelings about Prince George, which I’ve split into four blog posts.

Each is an “act” in a play, a story of my experiences, and a step towards something…

Oh, and when I say I’m presenting this as a play, what I mean is:

Our sometimes-hero STEVE has left Lake Purden behind, and is passing logging trucks, driving down the highway…