A massive rainstorm barreled into Southern British Columbia in November 2021. Highways were devastated. Bridges wiped out. Entire communities evacuated.

Landslides and floods killed people and livestock. The damage shut Vancouver off from the rest of Canada. There had never been anything like it.

I heard that the storm was coming while visiting a film set in Smithers, a small town in north-central BC. According to the forecast, there was a slim chance that I could be back home in Vancouver before the worst of the weather hit - if I left the next day.

It was a 13-hour fair weather drive with an overnight stop in Williams Lake. A pet-friendly room was available. It all sounded doable.

I packed my bags, strapped my dog into the passenger seat, and headed out on a blue sky Monday morning. I was 40 minutes in and sipping coffee when I noticed the first light flakes of snow.

The highway was plowed and clear. Visibility was good. Traffic was light, mostly pickup trucks and 18-wheelers.

Up ahead, I could see the tracks of something that had careened off the road. Something big. The narrow shoulder was piled high. It was impossible to pull over. And it was not safe to stop. Not on this highway.

Nobody was around. No emergency vehicles. No pylons. The scene was as eerie as a long-forgotten graveyard.

Whatever had smashed through the roadside snow berm had really skidded off the road. Nose first over a dangerously steep embankment. Maybe 50 or 60 feet down.

I slowed when the abandoned vehicle came into view. It was a snow plow.

Not good, I thought… and continued on my way. More flakes began to fall. Bigger flakes.

Save On Foods Meat Department Williams Lake

The notorious ‘highway of tears’ quickly turned into a full-blown blizzard. It was a total whiteout. Snow plows appeared. I was lucky to tuck in behind one. Then I thought, bad idea?

It was treacherous, white-knuckle driving. Unbelievably dangerous and frightening.

There was no turning back because there was no way to turn around. I had to keep going. It was a one-way ride that had me praying out loud.

I finally arrived in Williams Lake, exhausted. My halfway point! I high-fived myself in the parking lot and loaded into my room at the Ramada.

I turned on the news. Not good. In fact, it was historically bad. There was no way home. Every highway was out of commission. Closed indefinitely.

I went to the front desk and asked about a longer stay, but I was out of luck. I’d have to check out in the morning. The Ramada was fully booked for the week ahead.

The circumstances were distressing, but at least I was safe. I had friends in far worse situations. Some had been trapped overnight in their cars and eventually rescued by helicopter.

I wasn’t trapped. Just stranded. For how long? No one was even guessing. Some said it could be a month.

Luckily, Williams Lake is a great little town. I was fortunate to find another pet-friendly room for a couple of days because the town had filled up fast. Finding accommodation became my new daily challenge.

I had to move five times in seven days.

I found this great laundromat and I was filled with joy!

Williams Lake is best known for their stampede. The grounds are close to downtown and they were virtually empty. A cool spot for a quiet walk during the Covid pandemic.

There’s also Boitanio Park. Over 40 acres of green space in the heart of Williams Lake. Years ago it was a pitch and putt golf course, so it’s a wonderful and easy stroll. It’s also perfect for playing frisbee with the dog. Truly fabulous!

But most of all, I loved the murals. Some of the best I’ve ever seen.

A storm of creativity. Such a large mural I put the dog in for scale.

They were huge. Inventive. Wonderful.

And no graffiti! What kind of strange world is this? I thought.

No graffiti or tagging on the murals in Williams Lake.

Public art has a special place in my heart. Many of my favourite travel photos are of the art I’ve found while exploring.

I loved this mechanical horse that happened by.

It was a week before news came that a route would be temporarily open. I’d never driven this particular road. But it was not helpful to find out it was the highway where people had recently died.

I was hesitant but it was time to try and get home. I loaded up my trusty co-pilot and headed out before dawn.

Light snow was falling. There were several roadblocks and delays. At one point we ended up waiting for half an hour beside a sign that said ‘avalanche area - no stopping.’ Sheesh! What a relief to start moving again.

Our journey was successful, but it was long and stressful.

The best part of any journey is arriving home safe and sound. The horrible storm had passed, but lives were lost, businesses were ruined, communities were destroyed, and many people were left homeless.

In spite of the circumstances, my memories of Williams Lake are wonderful. If you ever get a chance to visit, take a bit of time, look around, do the mural walk. It’s a special town that has a place in my heart forever.

I’ll be back. Thank you, Williams Lake!