On this beautiful day I went on my way
Up Highway twenty-seven,
The Nechako Valley was soon behind me,
Ahead, was what some might call “Heaven.”
It’s not just the town, there’s communities ’round
The Fort, as it’s known to be,
Where the traders of yore met the Carriers before
It became the H.B. Company.
Stuart Lake is a jewel amidst hectares of fuel
For the sawmills to spew out lumber
There’s wilderness here and there’s atmosphere
That rumbles out loud like the thunder.
When the wind blows off-shore and you hear a slight roar
You think that must be Russ Baker
He’s flying his plane in rough weather again
And has not, as yet, met his maker.
Sometimes there’s a song, you don’t hear it for long
From French speaking men called Metis
They paddled canoes and portaged them too
For the traders who came from the East
The folks who live down in the twin parts of town
Are as friendly as they can be
And the Historical Park is a state of the art
Depiction of northern history