Day 8. Sunday September 18th 2011

Cache Creek, Walhachin, Deadman's Creek

Trains, high desert, Utopia, flumes, Indian towns and Hoodoos

We climb the hill behind our motel to get a stunning view of Cache Creek and the mountains behind the town. The hills look like the skin a giant spaniel, with huge and soft folds. Low morning light makes the crags seem deeper. We set off in the direction of Kamloops, along route 1. No snow capped mountains here, but a high and dry desert area. Low growing sagebrush and rolling tumbleweeds determine the landscape. Small cacti are deceptively hidden low among the grass between the stones. When I lose my balance and put my hand down to steady myself, my fingers land on nasty razor-sharp thorns and immediately start bleeding. It isn’t easy to get them out as they are as thin as hairs. The First Aid kit helps out.

Near Cache Creek

We drive through Thompson Canyon, along the river. On both sides of the river there are train tracks. One of the many freight trains we see here has 133 carriages, which amounts to a length of some two kilometers.

Train along Thompson River

Although the area is dry as dust and the hills display a wide variety of yellows, there are several green oases along the water. Some are irrigated and fruit is grown there, others are recreational like Juniper Beach, a small green patch along the river with a camping ground. Big RVs are maneuvering and parked here, unloading big ice boxes on picnic tables. A fly fisher standing on boulders along the river bank tries to catch one of the many salmon which populate this river. He admits he is new to the sport and hasn’t caught anything so far and blames it on the strong wind.

High Desert vegetation

We cross the river, admiring an eagle nest intricately constructed out of pieces of artificial rope and small branches on top of the bridge, and climb up to Walhachin. This town, now hardly alive, was the embodiment of an idealistic Englishman’s dreams. It once had a very well-known hotel, houses with indoor sanitary provisions and hot and cold running water. Wooden flumes coming from Dead man’s Creek across the Thompson River provided the town with water. The remains of the flumes are still visible along the mountains and in Deadman’s Creek. 

flume

In this dry desert orchards were created. The land as such was and is fertile, but the problem is water. The former community center or dance hall is now a museum, run by the few people who still live in this ghost town. Pictures of the life here, of families who lived here, of the station where the train dropped off rich guests who stayed in the hotel, of the ferry preceding the bridge across the river, they are displayed in this hall. When we emerge in the warm sun we meet an elderly woman who has lived here since 1940, almost all her life. She remembers the bitter cold in winter, the hotel which was already past its glory and no longer in use. She points out some of the original houses, tells us only retired people live here now. Six months a year she lives in Arizona to miss winter in Walhachin. The town is dead quiet, and feels like a ghost town. Down by the river a small plot of land still bears fruit trees.

Thompson River from Walhachin

We go down to the river again, cross to the other side and turn into Deadman’s Creek where we see broken down remains of the old Walhachin flume. We drive through an Indian town, towards very interesting and beautiful rock formations. We are looking for hoodoos, but although there is an arrow pointing out where they are, there is no track towards them and we can only admire them from the road. So we think we have missed them and go in further into the valley, where the landscape is less dry and gradually pines take over. Here are lakes, and also strange rock formations. Deer cross the gravel road. 

Deadman's Valley

We turn back, admiring the view of the rocks in the late afternoon light, slightly disappointed that we haven’t been able to come closer to the hoodoos.

Deadman's Creek

When we drive back to Cache Creek to spend a second night there, we hit upon a fake western town. It looks like a film set – but is a folly. When we walk through it, a man is sawing away. He explains that the whole village is an imitation of the Wild West towns in the USA and that he is doing this for a hobby, spending his money and time on the project. Talking about exclusive hobbies… 

We end the day with a meal in a family restaurant in Cache Creek, which does serve nothing but a rather bad version of well-known fast food: burgers and pizzas.

Deadman's Creek, Hoodoos in the background