Beyond the Frame: Norns Range, British Columbia

Where Landscape, Mythology and BC Heritage Meet

When I photographed the Norns Range, I was focused on what was in front of me: the mountains, the light, the weather and the sheer scale of the landscape. It wasn't until I started looking into the history behind the place that I realized how much more there was to the photograph.

The deeper I went, the more interesting it became. Norse mythology, Indigenous history, geology, mining, railways and forestry are all woven into the story of this part of British Columbia.

The mountains sit north of Castlegar in the West Kootenay region, southwest of the junction of the Little Slocan and Slocan Rivers. The official BC Geographical Names record places the approximate centre of the range at 49°29′59″ N, 117°50′04″ W.

Its name has appeared on Canadian maps for more than 125 years, and the story behind it reaches much farther than British Columbia.

The Three Goddesses of Destiny

The name Norns Mountains was officially adopted on May 7, 1900, after being submitted to the Geological Survey of Canada by geologist R.W. Brock. In 1955, the official form was changed to Norns Range.

The name comes from Norse mythology.

This was the part that caught my attention. I had photographed the mountains without knowing where the name came from. Finding out that the Norns represented the past, present and future gave the photograph an entirely different meaning for me.

The Norns were three goddesses associated with destiny:

Urda represented the past.
Verdandi represented the present.
Skuld represented the future.

According to the historical information preserved by the BC Geographical Names Office, the Norns were believed to determine the destinies of gods and humans and to guard a sacred well known as Urda’s Well.

The mythology was not used in isolation. Nearby geographical names continue the theme. The Valkyr Range, also named in 1900, refers to the Valkyries of Northern European mythology, while Mount Bor was named for a figure associated with the family of Odin.

It means that hidden throughout this part of the Kootenays is an unusual collection of Norse mythology preserved permanently on British Columbia’s maps.

The Great Glacier, Selkirk Mountains, BC, about 1890.

Credit: Musée McCord Stewart Museum / Wikimedia Commons. CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication.

A Landscape With a Much Older History

Interior of a reconstructed Sinixt pithouse in the Slocan Valley, British Columbia. Photograph by Kootenayvolcano, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

View the original image

Of course, the history of this landscape didn't begin when someone put the name Norns on a map in 1900. Not even close.

Learning more about the area led me much further back, to the Indigenous peoples whose connection to these mountains, rivers and valleys reaches back thousands of years.

The Sinixt describe their traditional territory as including the Columbia River drainage, Arrow and Slocan Lakes, the Slocan River, and the Selkirk Mountains. Their own historical material describes the mountains and river systems as fundamental to movement, culture and life throughout the region.

The Slocan Valley also contains archaeological sites and evidence of Indigenous occupation stretching back thousands of years. The Sinixt maintain an ongoing connection to the valley today, including at Vallican in the lower Slocan Valley.

The wider Kootenay region also intersects with Ktunaxa history and territory. The Ktunaxa Nation describes its homeland as extending through the Kootenay region and along the Columbia and Kootenay river systems.

For a modern visitor, rivers may look like boundaries on a map. Historically, they were often the opposite: they were travel routes, food systems and connections between places.

I think that's an important distinction when we talk about exploring British Columbia. I can photograph these places and share what I learn about them, but I'm still a visitor to histories that began long before me.

Mountains Written in Stone

The landscape tells an even older story beneath the forest.

The Selkirk Mountains form part of a geologically complex region containing ancient sedimentary and volcanic rocks that have been folded, metamorphosed and intruded by younger bodies of granite and related rock over immense spans of geological time. Provincial geological records describe the wider Selkirk and Kootenay Arc region as containing intensely deformed and metamorphosed rock sequences stretching back hundreds of millions of years.

Ice later became one of the great sculptors of the mountain landscape. Glaciers and repeated periods of glaciation helped deepen valleys, expose rock and create much of the dramatic alpine terrain associated with the Selkirks today.

The result is the landscape we photograph now: steep ridges, exposed rock, river valleys and mountains that seem to emerge directly from the forest.

You don't have to understand geology to see it in the photograph. Look at the exposed rock, the ridges and the valleys between them. I was looking at light, weather and composition when I took the photograph. What I was actually photographing took hundreds of millions of years to create.

Credit: Arthur Oliver Wheeler, 1912. Public domain. Via Wikimedia Commons.

View the public-domain Selkirk Mountains archive

When Silver Changed the Kootenays

The mountains surrounding the Slocan Valley entered another dramatic chapter in the late nineteenth century.

High-grade silver discoveries triggered what became known as the Slocan silver rush. Provincial geological records describe prospecting accelerating in the region during the late 1800s, with deposits being discovered around places that would become Sandon, Slocan City and other mining communities.

The rush changed the region quickly.

Mines appeared high in the mountains. Communities grew. Roads and trails expanded. People arrived looking for work and opportunity. Places such as Slocan, Silverton and New Denver survived long after many of the smaller mining settlements disappeared.

The remains of that era are still scattered through the West Kootenay landscape.

Old workings, roads, trails, mine sites and altered place names are reminders that what now feels like remote wilderness has also been a place of intense industry.

That's one of the things I find fascinating about the backcountry. A place can feel completely untouched when you're standing there, and then you start learning about it and realize how many people have travelled, worked and built lives throughout the same landscape.

Railways on the Mountainside

Mining created another challenge: getting ore out of steep mountain country.

Railways became an essential part of the West Kootenay story.

The Kaslo & Slocan Railway was built to transport ore from mining districts in the Selkirk Mountains toward Kaslo and onward by water. Its mountain route became famous for tracks clinging to steep slopes and crossing exposed terrain.

Payne Bluff above Sandon on the Kaslo and Slocan Railway.

Photo: Richard H. Trueman. BC Archives. Public Domain Mark 1.0. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Kaslo & Slocan Railway at Payne Bluff, part of the wider West Kootenay mining and transportation story. Photo by Richard H. Trueman, public domain, BC Archives via Wikimedia Commons.

Forestry and the Backcountry Roads

Mining was not the only industry that shaped the region.

Forestry became an important part of the West Kootenay economy, particularly as mining declined. Provincial historical material describes forestry becoming increasingly significant through the twentieth century, while the wider region developed extensive timber harvesting and wood-products industries.

That history continues to influence how people experience the backcountry today.

Forestry roads reach deep into landscapes that would otherwise be difficult to access. Some lead toward lakes, creeks and mountain views. Others simply disappear into the forest.

This part of the story feels especially familiar to me. I've spent years around logging, Search and Rescue, backcountry roads and motorcycles. A forestry road isn't just something I drive down to get to a photograph. Sometimes the road itself is part of why I'm out there.

I've always liked seeing what's around the next corner. Photography eventually gave me another reason to stop when I got there.

The Landscape Is Still Wild

Despite generations of human activity, the Selkirk landscape remains extraordinarily diverse.

Nearby protected areas preserve everything from low-elevation cedar-hemlock forests to high alpine environments. BC Parks identifies habitat in the wider Selkirk region supporting deer, elk and other wildlife, while the surrounding mountain country remains important habitat for large mammals and alpine species.

Weather is one of my favourite parts of photographing these places because you never really know what you're going to get. Low cloud can fill a valley while the ridges stay completely clear above it. An hour later, the entire scene can be gone.

Those are the moments I'm looking for. Not necessarily the perfect conditions, but the conditions that make a place feel like itself.

Why I'll Look at Norns Differently Now

There's something pretty fitting about photographing a mountain range whose name is connected to the past, present and future.

I didn't know any of this when I took the photograph.

I didn't know about the Norns. I didn't know the name had been on Canadian maps since 1900. I didn't know how much history I would find once I started looking beyond what was visible through my camera.

And maybe that's the part I've enjoyed most.

I've travelled through a lot of Canada, and I've spent a lot of time in places most people will never see. There were years when I'd come across something incredible and keep going because I didn't have a camera with me. Those are some of the memories I wish I could get back.

Photography changed that.

Now I stop.

I take the photograph.

And lately, I've started asking a little more about what I'm actually looking at.

That's what I want Beyond the Frame to become.

I'll share the photograph first, because that's what brought me there. Then I'll dig into the landscape behind it: the history, the people, the geology, the old roads and sometimes the stories hidden in something as simple as the name on a map.

I know I won't find every answer. That's part of it too.

British Columbia has a lot of stories left to discover.

I'm looking forward to seeing where the next photograph takes me.

Beyond the Frame

James James Photography

Exploring the landscapes, heritage and stories behind the photographs of British Columbia.

Visual Credits

Historic Selkirk Mountains photograph: The Great Glacier, Selkirk Mountains, BC, about 1890. Musée McCord Stewart Museum. CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Historic railway photograph: Payne Bluff above Sandon on the Kaslo and Slocan Railway. Richard H. Trueman, BC Archives. Public Domain Mark 1.0. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Additional historic Selkirk imagery, if used: Arthur Oliver Wheeler, The Selkirk Mountains, 1912. Public domain. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Research Sources

BC Geographical Names Office; BC Geological Survey; BC Parks; Sinixt historical resources; Ktunaxa Nation; Government of British Columbia historical and geological records.