Jones Lake, located up a dirt road between Vancouver and Hope, is a spot that means a lot to me. Growing up, my dad discovered it for its fishing potential, and we would go up at least once a year in various configurations, including my immediate family, my cousins, and once, even my grandparents who were visiting from Russia. My late grandfather was an avid fisherman, and his remark of “I wonder if there’s any fish in there” when passing any body of water, is something I still repeat.
The summer before I started university, I went up there with a group of friends from high school. It was a very different experience than being up there with family, and it’s one of my favourite teenage memories. We ate hot dogs for all 3 meals, and had great talks and I think someone even brought up a ukulele.
I was so excited to show this spot to Shane, who has driven by the marker for Jones Lake for many years on his way to the Okanagan, but never went up. On our second anniversary, we took his sky blue van up there, up the treacherous dirt road with at times quite a steep incline. I will be honest, at times I didn’t think we would make it, but make it we did, and we spent a glorious weekend making fires, eating snacks, and reading in the comfort of the van, with the bed Shane installed in it.
These photos come from a day trip we made up there a while ago. It was a sunny fall Saturday, and since we both love driving around, this gave us somewhere to drive to. Shane went out and got us everything we needed for a charcuterie plate (not pictured), including smoked salmon and meats, cheeses, olives, and baguette. We spent a peaceful day by the lake, mostly just focusing on the amazing fire we were making. How are fires so hypnotizing?
At some point, a car parked on the road near us, an older couple got out, and set up their own little spot. Soon after, the man began to play guitar and sing. He was wearing the most amazing pants, and had a beautiful singing voice. After some convincing by Shane, I gathered my courage and walked over to ask whether he would let me photograph him. I learned that his name was Len, and hers was Cristina. We started chatting, and it turns out that he was Slavic, and an avid photographer as well. He used to photograph all kinds of cool bands back in the day. I treasure the experience of meeting this fascinating man,, and I’m glad I have these photos to remember him by.
