  The river courses its way between steep slopes covered by thick coniferous forests of fir, larch, pine and cedar draped in mosses. The trees are tall, narrow spires which allow just enough light to penetrate their thin canopy and form a lush under story of fern, snow berry and Solomon seal that carpet the forest floor. The riverbed is a rich mosaic of granite, quartzite and volcanic rocks filled with pores and petrified bubbles that record the violence of the earth in it’s beginning when it was still seething and molten. The stones take a vast array of tones that cover the spectrum of possibilities from white, rose and smoke quartz, to varying shades of taupe, ochre, gray, green and black granite with flecks of white that appear like stone snowflakes. Many of the rocks bear thin stripes that display the layers of the earth they once occupied; the layers now broken into smaller parts rounded and polished smooth by rushing waters, friction and time.
  Between the runs and riffles of the river are deep, mysterious pools that are often edged by tall stone formations that make one feel like they are standing in a mountain cathedral. The river water itself holds things alive, brightly colored and speckled that live in its cold, emerald currents. Living things that might be charmed by a tiny confection of feathers and silk wrapped around a hook. Things that are like treasure held in hand for a moment. Things that make one feel rich and rewarded. Things that bring me back here again and again and be ever amazed by its wonder, to be humbled by its mystery and to learn from its spirit.
  Prospectors like Frank Heller came here in earlier times to stake their claims and pursue dreams of gold and garnet. Others like myself prospect here for beauty, adventure and the chance to hold one of its wild cutthroat and enjoy the comfort of friendship, whiskey and woodsmoke. We all have places in this world where we find peace, where our souls feel free and where we can recharge our spirit. This is one of mine…Â
