Sanjey (see two posts back) took this photo as he flew from Vancouver to Whitehorse. He was thrilled to realize he was flying right over Perkins Peak again, the mountain he had climbed. The peak is a little to the left of centre, just to the left of the blue lake.
We had to watch the forecast like a hawk to pick a suitable day to go up Perkins Peak again. We left at 6.30, and had the added bonus of watching the full moon set.
A couple of hours later, we were well above the tree line and it was already hot. Tom and Alexa retraced the route Sanjey and I had made earlier, and they successfully climbed the mountain. I followed a different road to what had been another mine. Perkins Peak is on the right.
Looking back towards the Chilcotin.
This is a very minimalist landscape. Very few flowers, but it has its own stark beauty.
Flowers were in tiny clumps. A few purple daisies, Campions, and the endlessly flowering Potentilla.
Mountain Fireweed
Yellow Agoseris
Butterweed
And the delightful Mountain Harebells.
The road wound higher through the valley.
And suddenly, from the dry rockscape above, erupted a creek,
which was home to a healthy population of Mountain Monkeyflower.
I could now see the summit of Perkins Peak and kept an eye out for the volunteers. I did not spot them, but they said they had seen me crawling along the road. A contrail streaks past the peak – no doubt made by the same aircraft that Sanjey had travelled in when he took the first picture on this post.
The road wound on into a more and more barren landscape. To my right I was surprised to notice a rotting cut log, obviously transported in. Upon investigation, it proved to be part of a shelter that was once built there.
The road ended not much further along in what had been the mine, but it was now caved in. Most likely it had been dynamited shut because it was too dangerous. 
There was very little growing now except lichens.
But the mountain abstracts were fascinating.
This “stone skull” expresses the harshness of the environment.
I decided I had gone far enough. I headed down to where there seemed to be a bit of dampness. Partridgefoot was blooming.
And Tolmei’s saxifrage.
Badger found a snow patch!
There was no surface water though – until it suddenly burst out at the bottom of a morraine.
Looking downstream.
Seeps suddenly emerging from the top of this seemingly barren bank produced clumps of Mountain Arnica.
And even a tiny clump of roseroot and moss campion.
As I came close to the truck, I met some ATV-ers. I have yet to have a day alone up there. One of the women, who was my age, said she used to come this way and visit the man who lived in the stone house. He had been the one to build the road and operate the mine. That was a long time ago, though.