Four to six hours from Vancouver (depending on how fast one drives and how willing one is to get a speeding ticket) is a very special place I have been going to every summer for nearly 15 years. It’s called Indian Rock and lies twenty minutes outside of Penticton, just beyond Naramata in the Okanogan. Wine lovers and sun-worshippers will know be familiar with this area — often referred to as the Napa Valley of BC.
On Monday, I decided to get there as quickly as possible and hopped a Westjet flight to Kelowna — in under 40 minutes I was embraced by the hot, dry air so foreign to those of us who dwell in the rain forest and an hour later I was sipping Red Rooster’s finest on the shores of the Lake Okanogan.
I’d intended to do some serious work on my next book, but instead spent my time reading (finished two books — Timothy Taylor’s Stanley Park; thumbs down, and Joan Clark’s An Audience of Chairs — big thumbs up).
As can be seen in the photos, the gardens were more beautiful than can be imagined and the pics do not do them justice. I’ve created another web album for those of you who might like to see more images. My friend and I opted to drive back to Vancouver — a slow and easy road trip that involved lots of junk food, music, leisurely stops and conversation. It’s calving season in ranch country and we saw so many sweet baby cows that we are not sure we can ever eat a burger again.
That said, I’m off to the dude ranch in Ashcroft in the morning and I’m pretty sure Angus beef will be on the menu. I’ll be posting the pics from my weekend on the ranch next week.
In the meantime, as someone who thinks like me once said: “Ain’t nothin’ like ridin’ a fine horse in new country.”