Having left Whistler behind, we’ve travelled nearly 500km north-east to Wells Gray Provincial Park, just a few kilometres shy from the tiny (and very new) town of Clearwater. It’s been a relatively relaxed few days, and despite being the mosquito entrée du-jour, we’ve managed to see quite a bit during our relatively short stay.

I was hoping to avoid rolling out the usual summary adjectives to describe Wells Gray Park (I’ve learnt that it’s very difficult to *not* describe rural Canada as either “stunning” or “beautiful”), but with some of the most dramatic water features of anywhere we’ve been so far on our journey, quite a few quarters have definitely ended up in the cliché swear-jar.

With the weather being it’s usual mercurial self, we didn’t accumulate much in the way of walking kilometres, but the gentle amble along Lakeshore Trail was a major highlight of our visit, passing directly adjacent to Clearwater Lake where people were out casually rowing canoes. It’s difficult to imagine, but only a few kilometres downstream this placid stretch of water turns into the raging torrent that is Clearwater River, whose awesome power can be viewed over ice tea and an excellent light lunch from the cannily positioned Osprey Cafe (where you can also rent a kayak if you’re feeling brave).

Further downstream, there are plenty of places to see the river tearing away at the landscape; visiting two of such phenomenons, we took in the bizarre swirl of Norman’s Eddy (and were agile-eyed / lucky enough to catch a knot of newly hatched toads making their way to the water), and the raw power of Helmcken Falls gushing the contents of Murtle River into it’s Clearwater counterpart.

Our second day found us heading up the Trophy Mountain trail; at over 2500m at the summit, we barely even scratched the surface due to deep snow still blocking the path. Being way too early to see the Alpine Meadows, we got a superb view of Clearwater valley, and managed to scope out some Columbian ground squirrels; disappearing and reappearing like targets in a whack-a-mole game, these guys were definitely worth the trip up as far as we got.

Accommodation in the park is mostly served by lodges and guesthouses, and we’d picked a fine example in Clearwater Springs Ranch; owned and run by English ex-pats (who’d somehow managed to retain their accents after living in Zambia for a good number of years), it couldn’t be in a more idyllic spot. Built facing the the valley, there was a stunning (dammit - *clunk*) view of the open countryside were we were almost guaranteed to see bears or deer at any given moment in time (a view vastly improved by ‘scopes of various magnification provided by the lodge). Our hosts here have been nothing but charming and hospitable, and the food was excellent for every night of our stay.

Despite all this, I had generally mixed feelings about our stay here. Personally, I’m not overly keen on communal dining, and although I quite enjoy convening around a dining table, meeting people and chatting about their travels, I find it particularly difficult doing it at *every* mealtime for four nights (especially breakfast, as I’m *not* a morning person). Also, being a card-carrying nature lover I wasn’t especially impressed by the parade of dead things on our second night, with a twelve foot snake skin being the guest of honour at our dinner table.

Being an incredibly private person, I wasn’t all that happy about being unable to lock our doors on the way out; with no-one there during the day and guests being able to come and go as they please, it did make me fear for my belongings.

I don’t want to sound overly negative; as I’ve said, it’s a lovely place, and ticks all the right boxes (and then some) as a guesthouse. More likely, my misgivings are mainly a result of my own age, personality and tastes, and as a result I’ve come to one conclusion:

I don’t like guesthouses.