This August, J. and I returned home from our canoe trip to hear the bad news about The Pas. At the library, where I work part-time, the staff – two of whom have husbands who work at the mill – were reeling.

In such a small town, when the main employer leaves, everyone is hurt. J. called a realtor to get her take, and the news wasn’t good. We had a glass of wine on the deck, realizing our future – the one we’d been thinking about, talking about, planning for – was suddenly uncertain (even though, of course, we’ve got it a whole lot better than a lot of folks).

So, when VIA offered me the chance to take readers on a tour of The Pas on their blog, I jumped at it. Not only as a bit of work, but as a way to show the world what there is to see and do around here, and there’s a lot. In this piece, I’ve really only touched on it, because I stuck within the town limits.

There’s still the late-winter Trapper’s Festival to discuss, the fishing (fresh caught trout, pike, pickerel fill our freezer) and the incredible depth of natural beauty. Just last weekend, J. and I took a drive in his Jeep to the teal waters of Clearwater Lake, and found a spot we’d never seen before, after a lot of exploring over the past few years. A beach of smooth, round stones polished by years and years of pounding surf. Steps carved into the sand leading down to it.

If you’ve ever had an inkling to come up here – to visit polar bears further north, to experience northern Canadian culture and terrain, to sink a lure with pretty much the guarantee of catching a fish – now is a beautiful time. The tamaracks are lit with the first of their golden flush, the poplar leaves tinted amber.

Drop me a note, if you’re coming. I’ll pull dinner out of the freezer.