By Bob Ede

I am a back road driver par excellence. Snow, rain, mud, gumbo, deep ruts, soft shoulders, all of the above, even in the middle of night. I’ve been able to keep it between the ditches in all conditions.

I have had to back up for miles along narrow roads after encountering a bridge out or slides blocking the road. I’ve motored, slowly but surely, up the mountain on old mining roads with switchbacks and airy corners. Yes, I can sure drive those back roads.

However, my wife, Lisa doesn’t think so.

First let me clarify. What I mean when I say back roads. If you are from the city, you may think that highway 93/95 is a back road. Or you may think that the Westside Road, north and south of Invermere, qualifies as a back road. Perhaps you think a back road is one that is surfaced with gravel.

The back roads I’m talking about are those bush roads with grass in the middle and branches so close to the road edge they scratch your truck. Roads that lead to old mill sets and mountain mines long abandoned. Roads that wind through bush and mud holes, down canyons and deliver you to teal colored fish holes or fast water, bridge out and a mile long reverse back before a spot to turn around.

Being around these parts for a while, I know a few of these roads. These are the roads I learned to drive on.

Lisa and I enjoy outings after work where we load the truck with our mongrels and head for the bush. We carry a camera and often stop to take photos. We call this our drive by shootings and are on constant lookout for the perfect picture.

Nothing soothes the soul after a tough day like a run up Francis, or Horsethief. Watching the sun through the trees, looking for new growth and spotting animals and birds around every corner.

Thus is the problem Lisa has with my driving. She says I spend too much attention looking around and not enough on the road.  I am a slow driver and if a vehicle rolls up behind me, I’ll find the nearest pull off for them to pass. Slow to a fault Lisa says.

We will be rolling along, high tamaracks on one side and a sheer cliff on the other with water rushing a hundred meters below and I’ll say, turning my head skyward, “Was that a Clark’s Nutcracker?”

Sometimes my eyes may linger on the wildlife longer than they should and I’ll drift a little close to the edge, but I’ve never given Lisa any reason to doubt my driving ability.

At least once a trip, she blurts out, “Do you want me to drive, so you can look around.”

Last weekend I gave into this request. The result was a trip to remember. Lisa drives faster than me. We were careening through the backcountry. I was bouncing around in the passenger seat without even a steering wheel to hold onto, my boots pressing on an imaginary brake. As for looking around, everything out the side window was a blur!

We did make it home safe and early, but I decided from now on, I would do the driving. That’s the only way I will be able to see anything.

***

Bob is turning into one of those old-timers you hate to get stuck behind while driving the Wilmer Hill. He can be reached at: [email protected]. More of his photographs can be seen at: www.palliserpass.wordpress.com.

Article Share