Jacques Lake Snowshoe Trip
I’m not sure how it happened, but my friend Natalie decided to make the trip from Vancouver to Edmonton for a weekend in March. I had met her about a year prior, when I did a solo trip to Nepal and met her at a hostel in Kathmandu. We ended up being good travel buddies and she even talked me into doing a motorcycle trip in Thailand. Once back in Canada she joined The Alpine Club of Canada, which is relevant to this tale. She used her membership to get us two spots in a cabin for one night when she was out.
Natalie flew into Edmonton late Wednesday and on Thursday morning we headed west to The Rockies. We stopped only for gas, groceries, and road snacks… the usual essentials. It was a long drive from highway 16 to the trail head near Moraine Lake. The steep banks were covered with melting snow and there was no shortage of large rocks on the highway. There were avalanche warnings, but the road was still, officially, open. We arrived at the trailhead early in the afternoon and started to gear up. The weather was a balmy 8 degrees Celsius. I put on wool socks and base layers under my thin hiking pants. On top I wore a t shirt, a long sleeve, a fleece hoodie, and a toque. I chuckled to myself that I have definitely worn warmer clothes in July for hiking, I guess I was just tuned into the colder weather. I put extra layers into my pack and strapped my snowshoes on the outside. Natalie, being from a warmer climate, wore ski pants and a proper jacket. She also strapped her snowshoes onto the outside of her pack. I had purchased my snowshoes nearly 10 years ago on my employee discount back when I worked retail during university, and this was the first time I had honesty used them and it felt great. Natalie’s set had been borrowed from my employer (with permission).
We started by crossing a small bridge and then onto the trail. The sun was out and the snow reflected the heat onto us. I had managed to get lucky and dress perfectly for the weather. Natalie didn’t complain but I assumed she was overheating. The trail was initially packed down enough that we just walked in our hiking boots. Almost immediately into the trail I found a large rubber band on the ground. The kind you would find on broccoli at the grocery store. It struck me as odd and I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Throughout the hike I ended up finding half a dozen of these and for the life of me I cannot imagine what people were using them for. Perhaps a gear tie of some sort?
We hit a nice view of the mountains and the trail and I took two photos with my old Polaroid camera to see how it worked. It did not work well. I think it was too cold and too bright for that camera to really shine. Only one of the photos turned out ok. It was a shame, that could have been a fun thing but instead it just kind of tagged along for the ride in my pack.
When the trail opened up at Summit Lakes, the snow was deep enough around the edges that the snowshoes were necessary. Before that, I was worried we wouldn’t need them, and I would have to wait another 10 years to use them. Towards the end of Summit lakes, I pulled some snacks out of my pack, my classic combination of Hawkins Cheezies and beef jerky. It was a hit, no surprise. Fair warning, this delicious combo requires extra water to wash it down, its very salty.
On the far side of Summit Lakes, it turned back into a trail through the trees. We were able to remove our snowshoes again. This time we both opted to just carry them instead of strap them back onto our packs. At one point Natalie was leading and stepped over a downed log on the trail. I went to follow suit, but stepped to close to the edge and as I put all my weight on my left foot to lift my right over the log, I fell through the snow. I came down hard with the inside of my right thigh, slamming into the downed tree and I fell backward onto my pack, twisting my knee. The sharp edges of my snowshoes bashed into my left hand as they bounced off the log. I laid there laughing and Natalie turned around to see what the commotion was. After a moment of reflection, I pulled myself up and out and then she realized I had gone through and not just slipped. I did a quick once over on my limbs and nothing was too badly hurt, aside from my pride. My hand was ringing with pain, but had little more than a scratch on it. We carried on, me having learned a lesson, stay centered on the trail when possible.
We arrived at the summer campsite which I had stayed at many years before and I noticed it had changed a bit. They installed bear boxes for food storage to replace the bear poles and they had gotten rid of two picnic tables. Just beyond the campsite the trail led us to a rather rough looking bridge. I opted to cross first, if it could support me, Natalie would be fine. On the far side of the bridge we ducked under a few tree limbs and made it to the edge of the clearing the cabin was in. There were a few people on the porch and they gave us a friendly wave.
It turns out the Cabin could hold 8. It had 2 big bunk beds and each bunk could accommodate two people. Of the 8 spots, 6 were taken by one group. It was a man and his friend, and his daughter and her friend… and then two people they had befriended through the club… I think. It was only really explained to me once. They were very friendly and because they got there before us, they had already had snow melted for water and the cabins propane furnace was already running.
We unpacked while we made everyone’s acquaintance and then Natalie made mac and cheese while I made a salad (I had carried in an easy to make bag salad). Washing dishes was an interesting endeavor. It required three basins: a wash, a rinse, and a disinfect. It was a smart system, though it did require a lot of counter space. The remainder of the evening was spent with Natalie and I talking to each other about upcoming trips, and hikes we had already done. She also took the opportunity to chat with our fellow guests, one of whom was big into sailing and she was even able to recommend a sailing school in Vancouver for Natalie. I was quite tired from the drive and the hike so I wasn’t as social as I should have been.
Eventually the night wound down and I had no trouble falling asleep and staying that way. In the morning, two of the guests were up early as they had to ski out and then drive home to somewhere far away in BC that day. The rest if us had a slower start, our end destination for the day was a hotel in Jasper and the other guests were spending another night. For breakfast we had cereal, one of my favorites. It’s just granola, freeze dried fruit, chocolate chips (optional, but I have a sweet tooth), and powdered milk. I make it at home in a zip-loc bag and on the trial, just add water. We slowly put our gear on, overnight my socks went from soaked to barely damp which was a big relief… until I stepped into the rubber mat under the sink. It was all the water that had been poured down the sink during food prep, and brushing teeth. It usually goes into a 5 gallon pail, but some found its way onto the rubber mat and that found its way onto my right sock. I suppressed my gag reflex and did what I could to squeeze the water out of my sock. I soon realized it didn’t matter, my boots, overnight, went from sopping dripping wet to just waterlogged so my socks were wet immediately. I guess the waterproofing on my boots needed a refresh.
We strapped our snowshoes on and said our goodbyes. We decided to head back along the lake, it felt fairly safe since there were fresh ski tracks on it. I did have brief, morbid and comical, thought of following the ski tracks right up to a hole in the ice. After a few hundred yards it felt a lot less safe when we saw that springs had been pumping water onto the ice near the shore and created open patches. I unbuckled my pack, in case I went through, and we went wide around them. At the south tip of Jaques Lake we followed some ski tracks through the trees along a river that connected to the other lakes. There were a few questionable maneuvers here crossing ice that clearly had a stream running below. Luckily none of it was overly fast or deep so going through would have meant cold legs rather than risk of life and limb. All the same, I wanted to stay out of the water this time of year. Overall, it was a much nicer trail than the one in the trees we had taken the day before and it made the snowshoes feel a little more necessary, which was, after all, part of the fun. Eventually we made it back to Summit Lakes and followed our old tracks out without incident. Once at the trailhead I changed into fresh, less sweaty and smelly shirts and celebrated with a root beer, because deep down, for me, hiking is all about good snacks… and I guess good company never hurts.
Technical/gear
I’ve had people on other posts ask about gear and technical information. So I’m tying to add it at the end. For this trip the only special gear we used was the snow shoes. Both of us used MSR brand which I like because the sharp bottoms work well on ice, but they did also cut the lower cuff of my pants. That said, this was my first use of snowshoes so I am far from an authority on them. I wore my regular summer hiking gear and some base layers. My regular old hiking boots strapped into the snow shoes. Natalie wore her ski gear to be extra warm. The Jacques lake hike is a great starter hike because its only about 12km each way with minimal elevation gain and great views. This also makes it great for snowshoeing and the use of the Alpine Club of Canada’s cabin meant that we didn’t have to bring cooking gear, a tent, or even a sleep mat so our packs were quite light. Sleeping in a heated cabin is also a nice touch. The people we met at the cabin had skied in and all agreed that snow shoes probably would have been better as some of the trails were a little tight and winding, that said, along the lakes when we hiked out skis would have been faster. You probably cant go wrong with either and current snow conditions were also likely a big factor.
Posted in Hiking and tagged Alberta, backcountry, backpacking, hiking, Outdoors, snowshoeingwith 1 comment.
Juan De Fuca Marine Trail
I first learned of the Juan De Fuca Marine Trail immediately after hiking the West Coast Trail I had just finished the hike and was walking into a Part Renfrew restaurant for food and I saw the sign for it and asked one of my fellow hikers what it was. They explained it was a less-known hike that continued where the West Coast Trail left off. Fast forward to this year, for a lot of reasons I’ve been in a mood to do something silly and had to take a shift off of work for a friend’s wedding and ended up with about 10 days to do something, so I flew myself to victoria, got a hostel for a night, hit the trail for a few days and then spent two more days in Victoria before flying home. One of those days was spent on a little honda scooter doing a lap around the city along the coastline, but that’s another tale for another time.
Day 1: Victoria to Port Renfrew to Botanical to Little Kuitshe Creek Campsite
Day one was a little rough, I had to be up nice and early to catch the bus from downtown Victoria to Port Renfrew which took somewhere around 3 hours, by the time the dust settled. From where the bus dropped me, and a few others off, it was about a 2.5km walk along a paved road to get to the trailhead, Botanical Beach. Along the way, I made friends with two younger guys who were doing the trail for the first time (but had done the West Coast Trail the year before). They pulled ahead of me at the start of the trek when I stopped to pay my camping fees (they did theirs online before starting). I stopped at Botanical to have a quick breakfast and take a look at the tide pools. This is where I made a big mistake. It didn’t seem that impressive or exciting to me so I didn’t hang around long. Turns out I should have waited for low tide. I later learned that it’s one of the best sites/beaches on the island when the tide is fully out. Lesson learned for next time. The trail from the beach was initially a nice forest walk through some nice big trees, eventually, the trees tightened in on the trail which turned into ugly roots and mud. Lots of mud. Before the trail got too bad I took a detour to Providence Cove where I met back up with the two young men I had somewhat befriended, as well as a pair of girls hiking. The guys and I intended to stay at Little Kuitshe while the two girls intended to stay at Sombrio beach so they could make a push the next day to avoid Chin Beach which they were told had no food cache boxes. From the cove to the campsite was a rough ugly hike, with ankle-deep mud, and slippery ankle buster roots. I overtook the two guys, one of whom said he was having problems with his knee. The girls were miles ahead and I didn’t see them again that day. Little Kuitshe campsite was fairly unimpressive, which is what I had read about it previously. It’s just a patch of land high above the water with space for tents. Hours after my arrival the two guys came into camp, one limping. His knee had really gotten bad so he was going to hike out in the morning and catch a ride back to town.
Day 2: Little Kuitshe to Chin Beach
Day 2 of hiking was far better than day 1. Way less mud and a lot more technical. It was still a lot of hiking in the trees with the occasional view of the ocean. Somewhere along the way was Sombrio beach which was a welcome relief from walking in the forest, it’s a coastal hike, let’s hike along the water! Sombrio was pretty busy since it’s a nice beach and easily accessible by car. I passed the two girls from the previous day, they were both fast asleep on the beach. I later learned from other hikers one of them had hurt her ankle and they had to quit. On the far east end was an unmarked stream with a trail that led to a waterfall. It’s called a secret waterfall, but it’s not that big of a secret based on how many people wandered in and out. Also, I asked someone about it and they pointed me right to it. After Sombrio it was time for one of the harder portions of the hike. I found it actually easier than day one because instead of a boggy mudhole, it was just elevation gain and loss. Fortunately, there was also a 2km ish stretch of a nice maintained gravel path. I got to Chin Beach and found the bear cache was actually there, but was under a very large tree and had been crushed flat. I dug some rope out of my pack and hung my food up near the outhouses. Later someone informed me there was a proper cache farther up the trail so I went to retrieve my food and move it. I found someone had set their tent up right underneath my food and right beside the bathroom. They had an entire beach they could camp on yet somehow they felt that under a stranger’s food and in the stench of an outhouse was the best spot. I wondered if they knew something I didn’t but settled on the more likely scenario that they just didn’t know a lot. I made friendly conversation with a couple, Chris and AJ, sun tanning on the beach and drinking wine, they seemed like my kind of people. They invited me to come by later for a campfire. While chatting with them, a couple came by and the girl announced she had lost a boot to the ocean. I wish I had asked how that happened, Chris, jumped up and shouted that he had found a single flip-flop sandal in their campsite when they arrived. Wouldnt you know it, it was the right foot and close to the right size. Luckily a highway runs parallel to the trail so there are a lot of opportunities to hike out when things like this happen. Later when I went back for a campfire, a few more people had shown up and it was quite a communal event. There were 3 more people there, one of whom was taking her friend on her first hike, that friend was exhausted and slept from about 5 pm until sometime the next day when I saw them again.
Day 3: Chin to Bear Beach
Day 3 was more challenging than day 2 overall, it was about the same level of difficulty, there was just more distance at that difficulty. At some point, I took a wrong turn and ended up going too far to turn back. I had to slog through calf-deep mud and climb a ladder made of tree roots to get back on the trail, all in view of the nice bridge I should have used to cross the little Valley. Later I found a steel bridge that had been destroyed by a large tree falling on it, I’m seeing a pattern here of trees wrecking things. I was told I could climb down, cross the shallow creek and then climb up… but there’s no sense of adventure there so instead I slid down the bridge, climbed onto the log, and then jumped to the other side. It sounds exciting but this was all about eight feet above the creek. Bear Beach was by far my favorite campsite. I was able to set up my little tent just above the high water mark on the shoreline and have a small fire in front of my tent. Also all the people I had met the evening before camped in the same area. The two newer hikers camped beside me again and I saw why they were so tired, their bags were nearly double the necessary size and set for someone a foot taller than them. I adjusted their bags as much as I could for proper fit and the following day I was told it helped a lot, hopefully, that’s true and they weren’t just being polite.
Day 4: Bear Beach to Mystic Beach to China Beach to Victoria
Day 4 was going to be an easy lazy day. I had 9km of “moderate” hiking and the bus was scheduled to pick me up at the trailhead at 6:30 pm. In the morning I got lucky and had my tent packed just before it started to lightly rain. The rain only lasted about an hour and was the only rain of my hike, a rare stroke of luck for a hike along the coast. The trail out was gentle and had a few ladders and bridges. The previous day I had damaged my water filter while showing someone how great it is. I use a Sawyer squeeze filter, basically, you fill a bladder with water (like a platypus bag) screw on the filter, and squeeze it into your water bottle… well I split the bag so I couldn’t squeeze. Luckily for me, I also had water purifying tables because the creeks run from roads and inhabited land. I filled my bottles with the cleanest stream water I could find and tossed two tablets in to be extra safe. After an hour of them doing their thing, I took a swig of what tasted like jacuzzi water. At least I know I won’t catch anything from the water. In my poor research phase, I had thought that the trail ended at China beach, but it actually ends at Mystic beach which shares a trailhead with China beach, hence my confusion. I got to mystic around noon. I wandered around and relaxed for a few hours and even managed to find some beach glass and a small cove on the west end. From there I walked the extra few km to China beach and waded in the cool water then sat back, relaxed, and listened to some music while I waited for the bus to come. Once back in Victoria I hit the first pizza place I could find for two slices and an ice cold rootbeer. I checked into the hostel, had a quick shower, and hurried to the attached bar for a beer.
Posted in Hiking, Travelwith 1 comment.
Waterton Flop
Life’s barely long enough to get good at one thing. So be careful what you get good at.
Rust Cohle
My original intention was to drive to Waterton, spend the night in town, then a night at Twin Lakes followed by a night at Goat Lake with fishing at both. I arrived at Waterton to find its changed a lot in the nearly 7 years since I’d been there last. The quiet little town was full to the brim, standing room only. It was nice to see it getting the attention it deserved, but I was sad to see my memory’s version of it as a sleepy mountain town no longer exists.
When I got to the visitor center to pick up my backcountry permit I was informed that both of those trails were completely “snowbound” and fishing season didn’t open for another week. It was my own fault for not looking closer at the regulations and checking the trail reports. I’m still learning how to do this all myself and sometimes simple things fall through the cracks. I was offered instead, a 2-night permit for Alderson lake or one night at Alderson and one night at Bertha Lake. 2-days at Alderson sounded rather dull so I went with the two separate hikes.
The next morning I hiked into Alderson Lake. I was at my camp sight before noon. The trail itself was somewhat uneventful. The most interesting part was the waterfall at the trailhead. Alderson Lake, in its defense, is a nice-looking lake, but it’s the tail end of a much longer hike that starts at Cameron Lake. Unfortunately due to the large amounts of remaining snow, I could not press further down the trail to sightsee. I was penciled in to spend the next 20 or so hours, alone, beside a cold windy lake that I couldn’t even fish in.
I decided to have a nap in my little tent, it was interrupted by yelling and a banging coming from near the outhouse. I got my boots on and grabbed my bear spray and ran to investigate. I found two young men with day packs and fishing rods attacking the outhouse. I asked what was going on and they explained there was “a huge groundhog in the outhouse” I poked my head in and saw the unmistakable grizzly-like silver-tipped brown hair of a marmot. I told them what it was and to be careful, they have a little more claw than a groundhog. Their tactic of standing in the doorway and throwing things and poking it clearly wasn’t working, I suggested baiting it out and giving it space. They were already there illegally fishing, may as well feed the wildlife too, seemed less wrong that harassing the wildlife. They tossed it some cheese crackers and gave it some space, I went back to my tent to resume my half-hearted nap.
When 5 pm rolled around I got up and visited the outhouse, to my relief it was vacant. I then made myself some dinner of sausage, rice, and beans… it was terrible. I was trying something new and it didn’t work. It sat in my stomach like a cannonball. I walked around the campsite and enjoyed the view of the lake now that the wind had somewhat died down. I then lay down and read a few chapters in my book. As the wind gusts hammered my little tent, and my stomach went from a cannonball to molten lead, I realized I wasn’t having a good time… and tomorrow it was supposed to rain.
As I read, I contemplated my options and considered hiking out that night, I decided to finish my page in my book and make a decision. The last line of the page, in Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, was “The only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there. Let’s get out of here.”
I can’t even imagine a more serendipitous and appropriate thing to read at that moment. I was feeling sad and alone on the side of a mountain having brought no zen with me. I snapped the book shut and checked my watch, 8:30 pm. Sunset was 9:44 pm and I had 7km of well-marked trail to my car. To hell with it, I’m leaving. I packed with fervor and within a matter of minutes, I was on the trail making my way out.
The entire hike out I had to keep asking myself, did I not like hiking, or did I not like THIS hike? Maybe I don’t like hiking, I just liked the people I used to hike with. The entire way out I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched or followed, nothing sinister, just that feeling you get sometimes. I kept looking back expecting to see something like maybe a deer on the trail looking at me. I arrived at the trailhead around 10 pm and pointed my car home. Apologies to Bertha Lake, I’m sure it’s lovely but I wasn’t in the mood. I arrived back home at 430 am with little more than a yawn on the road.
It also crossed my mind that if I don’t like hiking, that means I’ve spent the last 10 years getting good at something I don’t like. It would make this blog an even more foolish endeavor. I have a big hike planned for a little over a week from now. I intend to go and give this some serious consideration while hiking the Juan De Fuca Marine Trail. This post may very well be my swan song. A story ending with me being chased off a mountain by my imagination. I write this post at 5 am after driving through the night. It feels like an appropriate end since my first story started with me writing in a fever at 3 am 10 years ago, almost to the day. In that time my blog has accumulated about 1 follower per year, several of whom I know have since passed away. A smart man would end it here, but I’ve always been a fool, so I guess we will see.
Posted in Hikingwith 1 comment.
A Cutthroat Hike
This is a story I had published in Hooked Magazine (Volume 14 Issue 1 of 2021). My original was about three times the length and they asked me to trim it down so it would fit in the magazine, I think they were correct in asking me to do that
“As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and cut through the water, I yelled to Erin ‘wait, I think I may have actually caught something here.’
Abraham Lakes
Amidst the chaos of Covid lockdowns, my wife and I decided, last minute, that we needed a break. Travel bans had caused our local national parks, Jasper and Banff, to fill. We opted instead to make use of some crown land and alpine lakes near Abraham Lake just southwest of Edmonton. This area, colloquially referred to as Abraham Lakes, was also quite busy but we figured the further we hiked in, the less crowded it would get.
Landslide Lake
We did our best to get organized and after a few pitstops my wife, my dog, and myself were at the trail head at 730pm. Luckily, we were on vacation and weren’t beholden to a clock. We hiked in until about 930, set up camp, and had dinner beside a small fire. In the morning we would hike the rest of the way to our destination, Landslide Lake.
On the second day, the trail was mostly treed with a few steep inclines, some bridges, and a few great vantage points with mountain views. Just before the lake, the trail skirted a huge boulder field, likely the lake’s namesake. The lake itself was a real beauty, larger than I expected. We set up camp, Erin relaxed with Jasper, our dog, and I assembled my fly rod. I was really dragging my heels for fear of failure. It had been years since I last fly-fished. I was in that terrible mindset of “If I don’t try, I can’t fail.” I think Erin could tell and spurred me along. I headed for a bay we spotted on the way in, it had a nice boulder sticking out that looked like a good place to fish from.
The Fishing
Unsure of what to use, I opted to try a dry fly that imitates a mosquito. I got up on my rock and surveyed. It appeared it was the right time and place, the fish were rising. I made a few shaky false casts and my line piled up in front of me, it was ugly. A few more casting attempts later and things were looking a little closer to a proper cast. Finally, I managed a proper presentation. I watched a small blue-green fish approach and inspect before biting and diving, I pulled up and set the hook. I kept the tension and brought the small fish in, I pulled the line up out of the water, the fish wiggled and wriggled… and was gone… with my hook. I guess my knot tying wasn’t up to snuff. Luckily my fly box, much like my fishing spot, was well stocked with mosquitos. I tied a fresh one on and went back to it. I quickly landed three more small cutthroat trout, my first ever.
Eventually one of my wild back-casts caught a small shrub behind me. I went and started untangling my hook from the branches. A minute into it, I broke out laughing as I realized I was untangling a Parachute Adams some other fisherman left behind. I got it, some line, and my own hook out of the tree, and resumed. We took a break to have dinner. Afterward, I went back alone but didn’t have any luck.
Lake of the Falls
Day 3 we headed to Lake of the Falls. The hike down from Landslide Lake wasn’t too bad, but the hike up to Lake of the Falls was an absolute slog. After what felt like a week of uphill, we were rewarded with a nice flat walk along an oxbow stream. As we got up to the lake itself, we passed a little bay, this one was shallow and clear, we could actually see fish in it, suspend motionless, with the occasional gentle rise and grab of a bug. We found a campsite along the shore that looked like a good fishing spot and staked our claim.
Personal Best
I assembled my fly rod and Erin went for a glacial swim, the water was so cold I could barely dip my feet in. I had other priorities anyway. No fish were rising, but I recalled one of my first fly fishing experiences an old man told me the bigger fish tend to eat bigger bugs sinking down. I tied on a woolly bugger and hoped. I cast a bit and had a few bites, but no fish wanted to commit. I asked Erin if she wanted to try, she had never fly fished before but she’s a quick learner. Within minutes she landed the first fish of the day. With a satisfied smile, she handed me the rod and said “try to catch up.” It didn’t take long, I managed to land a nice little trout or two. Then while fishing a drop-off, I connected again, this time with something bigger. As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and cut through the water, I yelled to Erin “wait, I think I may have actually caught something here.” A minute of angling later, I had landed a very respectable cutthroat, the largest trout I had ever caught. Keep in mind I’m pretty inexperienced. We got a few pictures and released it. Tragically, around dinnertime, my woolly bugger managed to get snagged on something underwater and broke off… I was tempted to go in after it, it was the only one I had packed. I opted instead to replace it with a bloodworm. I cast the line out a few times but only connected on one more fish.
Bull Trout
The next morning, while Erin made her coffee, I snuck ahead and wiggled my way through the trees, rod in hand, to the little bay we had seen the day before. My bloodworm and I, gave it the old college try. A few casts and fewer nibbles later, I had one on the line, a real scrapper. It appeared to be a brook trout, a personal best one too. I snapped a photo and sent it on its way. I didn’t bring my net so I was grabbing with wet hands and getting them back into the water as fast as possible. Unfortunately, in my haste, I made a mistake, it was actually a rare bull trout. Something Reddit pointed out to me. Had I the presence of mind, or the time, I could have easily checked the dorsal fin (a lack of black dots on its dorsal fin is an indication that it’s a bull trout).
Pack Out
Shortly after my catch, Erin arrived and we headed out, we had a long hike ahead of us. It turned out that that terrible uphill slog, although worth it for the fishing, is quite dangerous to go down with a dog tied to your pack. Jasper is a runner, so we keep him leashed. While descending a steep hill, he sometimes pulls, causing me to slide, which scares him, causing him to pull harder. Overall, though, he did very well. At the end of the hike, all three of us were hot, tired, and thirsty. Erin opted to cool off in Abraham Lake. I only got my feet wet, but I dipped Jasper in against his will. We stopped in Rocky Mountain House for pizza and Jasper slept like a log the entire drive home. The next day at work my feet hurt, but I was too busy showing off my fishing pictures to even think about that.
Posted in Fishing, Hiking, Published Workwith 2 comments.
Skyline Solo
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone.
Rudyard Kipling
On account of a slow economy compounded by a pandemic, my work is a touch slow. So, from time to time my boss will tell me not to come in for a few days. On a Wednesday evening leading up to one of these impromptu 4 day weekends, I decided I wanted to do a hike. As luck would have it, I was able to book 2 nights on the Skyline trail in Jasper, a hike that usually books up months in advance. I guess there’s a lot of cancellations these days with a pandemic and closed borders. I booked the sites and started packing. I had to be in Jasper, at the Signal Mountain trailhead, by 9 am the following morning to drop my car off at the end of the hike and catch the shuttle to the trail-head. I went to bed and set my alarm for 3:45 AM.
My alarm screamed me awake and the day began. I loaded up the car and hit the road. There’s certainly something enjoyable about driving around in the wee hours of the morning, the world seems empty and peaceful. I arrived at the pickup spot an hour early. I had given myself extra time for the construction; turns out it wasn’t an issue. So I sat in my car and read my book. I also chatted briefly with a couple doing the same trail but they were hitchhiking instead of catching the bus, something I don’t have the guts for.
The bus arrived and I was one of only two passengers. An hour later I was dropped off at the southern trailhead, near Maligne Lake, and started walking. The first few hours of the trail was just a walk through the trees in the rain, truly nothing exciting. It started spitting light rain almost immediately after I started walking. Luckily I kinda saw it coming so I already had my rain gear on.
Pro tip: Put rain gear on immediately if you experience any rain. Otherwise, you risk going from “it’s not raining hard enough to bother putting my rain gear on” to “I’m so soaked there’s no point”
Eventually, I started to gain elevation and broke into some mountain meadows, the views were good, but the rain was getting heavier and patchier. Early in the afternoon, I hit my campsite, Snowbowl. The rain stopped long enough to set up my tent and add a tarp for extra wind protection. Then I and my rain-soaked clothes laid down in the tent. Laying out in waterlogged gear in a tent on wet ground is a chilly affair, that I assure you. Luckily my down jacket in my pack stayed dry and it fits under my raincoat. Side note – always make sure your gear is compatible, there will be times when you have to use it all at once.
After a few hours of laying around, dozing, and listening to podcasts, I decided to try and make some food. I wasn’t feeling too hungry, or particularly well, as I was sleep-deprived and cold. The rain had stopped, but it was still a thin layer of overcast. I decided to make some mac and cheese and see if I could force some down on principal. Never skip meals on a hike.
I let the noodles sit in the pot in cold water for about 10 minutes to let them soften before boiling, this saves fuel. As I was boiling the water, my stove began to sputter and die out, was I out of fuel? My guts gripped with terror at the thought of eating cold chicken and rice for dinner the following day. I grabbed the IsoPro bottle and gave it a shake, there was fuel in there. A hard twist of the stove and it was right as rain, guess I just didn’t put it on tight enough. Macaroni complete, I took 1 bite and suddenly realized I was ravenously hungry. I ate the entire pot, about as fast as I could. A cup of tea for dessert and I was in bed.
I read my book for a bit, then the exhaustion took over. I woke up around 2 am to the sound of the wind flapping my tarp against my tent. At first, it sounded like an animal walking around my tent. After about 5 minutes of careful listening, I decided it was either the wind or a bear standing completely motionless and breathing silently. Either way, I was going back to sleep.
I slept in until about 8. I waited a bit to see if the sun would come out and dry the tent, however it soon became clear it would not. I packed up, brushed my teeth, and started walking. It didn’t take long for me to start hitting some serious snow patches and mountain views. A fellow hiker would later tell me “the park office said this is the most snow they’ve had in July in 20 years.”
After some amazing snow-dotted mountain meadows, I found myself above the treeline, walking the side-hill of a rocky valley. The wind and rain were coming and going. When the wind blew, it carried the cold with it. I came upon a good sitting rock just as the wind briefly calmed. I knew a hard and sketchy summit was coming so I took this chance to have my breakfast. I had what I usually have when out hiking: cereal.
The recipe is simple: dehydrated milk, granola, and freeze-dried fruit, then just add water when you’re feeling hungry. Usually, I make my own at home before the hike but this time I brought some Mountain House brand version, it was quite good.
Breakfast done, it was time. I had to round Curator lake and climb up to The Notch. Circling by the lake was no issue, but the incline up to The Notch was, well, ugly. It started as steep switchback and quickly turned into a low visibility scramble over boulders. Because of the low clouds, seeing more than 30 feet seemed impossible. That said, all the snow cover made an accurate guess of distance impossible anyway. More than once I mistook a patch of snow below me for Curator lake.
There were times the closest hints of a trail were boot treads and the telltale holes from hiking poles digging in. The real terror was being on that steep, scree-covered bowl wall, and hitting a large snow patch with a split in the trail. I couldn’t see the end of the snow, one set of tracks went straight up like a snow ladder, and one went along the side of the wall. I was doing my best to avoid snow. There had been a few instances on less vertical terrain where running water had eroded the snow from underneath, causing me to break through, something I didn’t want to do at the angle or height.
Unfortunately, the trail I took, just led me to another vertical snow ladder. I climbed up it without much issue, but at the top of the snow patch there was no trail, just a few footprints, or rather, slid around stones from where people had stepped. Walking on the wet scree was very much like trying to climb a steep sandy hill, every step caused me to slide a foot down under my weight.
After a few meters of elevation gain, I found a slightly more solid footing. I was able to step from stone to stone, still sliding down the hill a bit, but this was still an improvement. After a few hundred yards, I hit another snow patch. In a brief break in the clouds, I could see that the patch took me over the edge of the bowl and the snow seemed far more level. I trudged over it, thankful to finally be able to walk upright.
The snow had led me right to the summit sign. I had made it to the highest point of the trail: The Notch. Visibility had gotten better, but still not enough to see anything of note. It was enough for me to see the next trail markers, though now I didn’t need them quite as much since the trail was a little more clearly packed down.
Not wasting much time in the wind and rain at the top, I carried on with the trail. I put my sunglasses on, pulled my scarf over my face, and pulled up my raincoat hood. The wind was cold, cutting, and cruel. I kept my head down and walked cairn to cairn. More than once I felt lost. The trail seemed to lead me the wrong direction. I didn’t trust my senses in those conditions. I just followed the trail, glad to see any form of marker when they appeared.
I remember walking a ridge-line and only briefly getting a glimpse between clouds at the lakes and trees below, with the low visibility I had no idea how high up I was. Eventually, I looked up and saw the silhouettes of hikers. I got close and said Hello. We chatted a bit and I mentioned that if it hadn’t been for their boot prints I may well have gotten lost. We hiked together for a bit, eventually losing some elevation and gaining a lot of visibility.
I guess this is the only proof I’ve been there
When my trail friends stopped for lunch, I kept going. I prefer to snack all day while I walk instead of stopping to eat lunch. Shortly after leaving their company, a series of steep switchbacks led me into a treed valley full of streams. A few of the streams had hard-packed snow acting as a bridge, something a man of my weight is always nervous about.
On the far end of the valley, I found my intended campsite, Tekarra. I arrived at 2 pm and it had just stopped raining and looked as though it may start again any second. I weighed the options and decided I didn’t want to sit in my tent in the rain waiting for it to be an appropriate time to cook dinner, then wait in my tent for an appropriate time to go to sleep. I opted to hike out to the end, an additional 14 km. The couple I had met the morning before, when I had parked my car, was at Tekarra having lunch. They were also hiking out that day.
Immediately after leaving the site, I had to cross a river with high water. I did my best to boulder hop, but my boots went from wet to soaked as a result.
The remaining trail was relatively uneventful, just a bush trail with some snow patches and parts of trail eroded from flowing water. At one point some trail-runners passed me and informed me there was only 10 km remaining. A few minutes later I ran into them again as they had stopped at the top of the fire road to strip off some layers before running it out. I had a sit myself and drank some water. The couple from the lot caught up to me.
We had a friendly chat with everyone, the runners were off, followed by myself. The couple stayed back to rest a bit. Shortly after my departure, they passed me with ease and a spring in their step. I felt rather worn out.
After what felt like a very long and painful walk I came across some hikers who informed me I was 4 km from the end. This news disappointing me because I thought I was seconds from the end. I shortly found a sign that confirmed they were correct.
After a walk that felt long enough to induce fears of purgatory, I finally rounded a corner and saw cars. As I walked into the lot, I saw the couple driving out. I got changed as fast as I could out of my wet hiking clothes. The mosquitoes were terrible, I got some bites in some places I would rather not mention.
I promptly drove into Jasper and bought supplies for the drive home: an iced chai latte from Bear Paw and a pizza from Northface Pizza. I also phoned Erin to let her know I had finished a day early and was headed home. I had hiked just over 30 km that day.
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The Iceland Saga Vol. 2 Laugavegur Trail
The first part of this series can be found here. Don’t forget to subscribe by entering your email on the right.
The day was young, the air was cold, the tent was wet… but that’s Iceland. A price that is well worth paying for an adventure. My nervous stomach was doing flips as we boarded the monster of a bus. Imagine a greyhound bus with oversized tires and a lift kit, that’s what I climbed onto shortly before sunrise. The bus made a few more stops to collect passengers. I watched out the window with interest as we turned off the pavement onto a dirt track. The trail itself wasn’t too terrible. It was soft sand, for the most part, but it was narrow and winding. The driver was clearly familiar because he was impatiently tailgating and honking at the slow-moving land rovers we crossed paths with. A few times we forded deep creeks that justified the tires on the bus. Eventually, we ended where we intended. We had made it to Landmannalaugar, now we just had to make it out.
When we first pulled in, my mind immediately thought of a refugee camp. It was raining, it was muddy, there were sad little tents everywhere and cold, wet people milling about. I immediately, and somewhat pointedly, crumpled this comparison and threw it in the trash bin in the back of my mind. These were tourists, here of their own accord, and I likely represented the poorest of the lot. There was a small shop that sold the basics, it was two old school buses pushed together and converted. I didn’t need anything so I didn’t bother going in. Just as well, the reputation of their prices preceded my arrival. Erin and I slipped into a communal cooking shelter and changed into our rain gear, as did several others. The rain was pretty steady at this point and I nearly ruined my trip before it started. I bent down to pick something up and managed to rip the front of my waterproof hiking pants. I thought I was going to have to hike the rain in soggy pants for 4 days. Luckily, Erin had some medical tape in her bag, surprisingly, that was sufficient to hold it together for the duration of the hike.
After a sufficient amount of stalling, on my part, we found the trailhead and started walking. The first bit of the hike was along the green valley floor, the trail was well worn in. Abruptly the trail stood on end, had it not been packed down and marked I would have assumed we hit the end. Up we went, then some more up… then some more… I didn’t know Iceland had this much up in it. The green shrubbery gave way to a rocky mountain top. The rain and wind picked up. Eventually, we lost most visibility, we walked through the misty fog barely able to see the next marker. The trail was occasionally dotted with cairns to help. Along the way, we passed a memorial dedicated to a young hiker who lost his life in a snowstorm in 2004. I place a rock on top of the growing pile at the memorial, and with a bit more solemn and introspective tone, I continued my hike. We arrived at the first campsite shortly after. It was still raining and windy and the campsites were all quite rocky. It was also only about 2 in the afternoon. We had some lunch, we ate what we called “SADwiches” they were a slice of ham and a slice of cheese in what tasted like a burnt compressed pita bun. Erin and I decided to press on to the next campsite which was only a few hours hike away and at a much lower altitude. We hoped by then the rain and wind would slow. As we pressed on, the landscape rolled us up and down deep and narrow drainages, passed shrubs, and then through the barren rocky land. At one point in our up and down and questionable ice bridge crossings, Erin noticed she didn’t have her phone. We then had to backtrack nearly a kilometer to find it. I told her, as punishment I would shame her on my blog. Eventually, we hit what felt like the edge of a mini-mountain range. The trail led down the side of one last little mountain and into a big open lowland. Down below we could see the land all had a gentle slope leading to a lake, we could see the campsite, Alftavatn, next to it. We made our way down and set-up camp. Luckily for us, the rain had nearly stopped, just the lightest drizzle and no wind as we set up. Every campsite had cabins, bathrooms, and showers. The showers were expensive and the cabins were only for those renting a bunk in them. Those of us who tented, congregated around the edges of the buildings, hoping the slight overhang of the roof would protect us from the rains that were inevitably coming. The remainder of the evening passed without a noteworthy event. We were ahead of schedule and I was plenty tired, sleep came easy.
Day two held a bit of everything, including a cold river crossing very early in the day. Immediately after the crossing was a long flat walk, it was on an open black plain surrounded, in the distance, by sparse mossy green hills. We eventually found ourselves in the mountains and crossing old volcanic terrain. I was beginning to feel a lot like a hobbit delivering jewelry. We reached our camp in the early afternoon. I purchased our camping permit while Erin used the washroom… We discussed it and we were both ok to press on to Thorsmork. I asked if a refund was possible, instead, they made a note on my permit that it would be valid at the next camp. We pressed on through the mountainous terrain. Eventually, the terrain became more treed and the rain began to pick up. I was beginning to regret not staying at the last campsite but we were well on our way to completing the Laugavegur trail in just 2 days. I finally hit my tipping point, every big trip beats me at some point. I always drag myself back up, but it still happens. In this case, we came down a hill in the rain to see a wide graveled flood plain. Narrow rivers spread like veins across the landscape. I was cold, exhausted, miserable, and starting to get vocal about it. Erin and I tried to hop from sandbar to sandbar but they all dead-ended eventually. Finally, we bit the bullet, in the cold rain, on the sharp rocks, we changed into our sandals to walk across the streams. Even that wasn’t easy as they were moving at an impressive pace. One miss step on slick rock or into a deep hole would send you tumbling down an icy stream, in this weather a soaked pack, and as a result, soaked bedding constitutes a literal emergency. We hit the far bank without incident. I sat on the bank shivered, dry heaved, and nearly cried. I don’t know if it was a panic attack but it sure felt like some kind of stress and exhaustion induced attack. For about five minutes I sat in the rain, with Erin casting a worried and unsure eye, and felt the absolute worst I have ever felt in my life, in every sense of the word. My stomach hurt from stress, my feet hurt from cold, my knees hurt from use, my head hurt from dehydration, my soul hurt from exhaustion. Slowly, I put myself together again. I took off my soaked sandals, wrung out my socks, slid them on and forced my boots into place. Things weren’t going to get better if I stayed sitting. It was time to go. We slung our packs and started walking. As luck would have it, it was calm trails through the trees all the way to nearby Thorsmork. We set up our tent and were thankful for the small communal tent they had set up for campers to cook in. We hung out gear to dry, cooked some supper and made tea to try and chase the cold from our bones. Words cannot describe the comfort one feels climbing into dry pajamas and a warm sleeping bag after a day like that. I took a deep whiff of fresh Icelandic air and I was asleep. We had just completed the Laugavegur trail in two days. In the morning we could catch a bus back to town or we could hike.
We had technically already completed the Laugavegur trail. The last leg was from Thorsmork to Skogafoss. This was the hardest part of the hike for me. I was already good and tired, physically and mentally. Then Iceland had a good sense of humor and threw some heights at me. The highlight of which was when I had to climb and drop down a few ledges, walk across a narrow peak, then climb back up another steep cliff and ledge combination with the assistance of a chain bolted to the side. While maneuvering the chain, my hiking poles, that were slung around my wrist, were doing their best to tangle between my legs. I looped my elbow around the chain, pulled the poles off my wrists, debated dropping them off the cliff, decided against littering, collapsed them and tucked them between my pack and my back. Once I completed the chain ordeal, I was rewarded with a nice steep hill to go straight up. I was glad I opted to keep the hiking poles. At some point we crossed between two large glaciers, over mountains, and crossed barren black volcanoes, the two youngest volcanoes in the world, I am told. Finally, we reached a river that would eventually feed Skogafoss. We walked along its edge, high above the water on more cliff edges. Every few hundred yards there was another spectacular waterfall. I knew we were getting close because I started to see people in increasingly casual clothing and good moods. Eventually, we reached the falls. The top of the falls, actually. It was crowded and spectacular. Erin took some photos and I stared, sore-footed and dead-eyed at the flights upon flights of metal stairs for us to climb down. As my stiff legs and sore knee carried me down the steps I overheard someone on the way up complaining about the stairs, I had just enough energy to stifle my laugh. Erin and I hit the bottom and hi-fived, lazily. We had just hiked 80km in 3 days. All we had to do now was figure out a ride back to Hella, where our car was parked.
We walked to the information center on the far side of the little town at the bottom of the falls. They were closed, so we went to the attached restaurant, they closed 10 minutes later… We walked to the nearest bus stop and tried to decipher the schedule, as best I could tell the next bus was coming at 9 am… in 3 days. We debated sleeping there, as there was a little campsite available. We sat down at a little picnic table next to some other hikers and gathered our tired and flustered thoughts. Just as Erin was digging out the ingredients for tea, the hikers said “hey, our bus is here” and as a holy apparition, there it was. We repacked our bags, fast, and ran over and asked if they had extra seats, they did. I don’t remember the price and even now, I don’t care. Half an hour or so later we were in our car. We drove to the nearest gas station and I bought a bacon-wrapped hot dog and other necessary supplies. We drove to our next campsite, Selfoss. While preparing a snack a girl at the table next to us told me we simply HAD to stay up to see the northern lights. I didn’t have the energy to stay up or to explain that I am quite spoiled here in Canada when it comes to aurora borealis. In fact, Erin and I saw them on our wedding night in the middle of Edmonton.
The following morning we went to see another waterfall, Gullfoss, truly a monster of a fall. All I remember was being tired and sore walking from the car to the viewing point. For lunch, we stopped at a little cafe and as luck would have it, they had thermal bread which was something I really wanted to try while I was there and seemed to be having trouble locating.
The final day we took our time getting to the airport, we stopped at the famous blue lagoon baths and had a look. It was nice to walk around, Erin grabbed a coffee and we were on our way. It was too crowded and far too expensive considering we had already gone into the hot springs at Myvatn. All that was left now, was to catch our flight home and sleep in a bed for the first time in a long time. On the flight home, I realized I had actually set a personal record, eleven consecutive days in a tent.
Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travel and tagged hiking, iceland, travelwith no comments yet.
Jacques Lake Hike
Friday after work, Erin and I caught a ride with our friends Kate and Alex. We were headed to Jasper for a quick front country camp that night, and a backcountry camp the following day. It would be Kate and Alex’s first backcountry camping trip. They were due to start the West Coast Trail about a month later. I admired their ambition.
Our Friday night camp was quite straight forward. We set up our tents, made a fire, sat around it and I even enjoyed a beer. The following morning we met two more friends, Marc and Chelsea, in town. Everyone grabbed something from the cafe to start the day. I was feeling unwell so I declined any breakfast. We headed to the Jacques Lake trailhead, where Nikki (remember her from that time I was a hero?) was waiting. We got set up in the parking lot and headed in. I noticed Marc’s pack was quite big. I would later learn that had packed in a lot of creature comforts as the trail was not particularly demanding, and this turned out to also be Chelsea’s first backcountry experience.
Very early in the trail, we encountered a wide, shallow, fast-moving creek. There were two split logs acting as a bridge that led across it, but after that, the trail seemed to disappear. As luck would have it, there was a parks employee in the vicinity. She explained the faster water had washed out the bridge that cut back across the creek. Our only option was to kick off our shoes, roll up our pants, and walk across. It was quite refreshing. Further up the trail, we detoured slightly to a large meadow by a lake with low water. While eating we picked some wild chives to add to dinner later. While the others were eating I walked closer to the lake and found what I believe were wolf tracks in the mud at the edge. They could have been dog tracks, but there were no people tracks and dogs are not permitted off-leash. Still a possibility I suppose. Our hike continued.
After lunch and further up the trail we crossed paths with a man and a woman. They appeared to only have day hiking gear. She said there was a black bear on the trail ahead and that they were headed back as a result. I was not dissuaded, or even concerned. My years of hunting have inflated my ego and reduced my fear of wildlife. I had also recently finished an Andy Russel book on Grizzlies which had also relaxed me about bears. I have no doubt this confidence will be my downfall someday, but for now, I’m pretty fearless with wildlife. At any rate, we pressed on. Sure enough, on the trail, there was a bear… Actually, it was just off the trail ahead and to our left. Marc was at the front of our group and yelling to make noise to scare it off. He had his bear spray out, I drew mine and joined him. The bear was 50 to 100 yards ahead of us and the remainder of our group was about 25 yards behind us. Our noise was successful in scaring the bear, unfortunately, we just scared it up the nearest tree. It would come down, get scared, and climb back up. We called Alex up, he had mentioned earlier that he had some bear bangers. We were hoping they would do the trick. Alex seemed pretty excited when we suggested he fire one in the bear’s direction. He assembled the small pen-like device, took aim, and let loose a perfect shot. Straight-line to the bear and detonating just in front of it, which is exactly ideal. If you shoot over the bear, you could scare it to you. The bear barely flinched, climbed down the tree, gave us a long hard look and ran off the opposite direction. We all cheered Grizzly Alex. Marc continued to lead the way. I stood still watching the trees until the group passed. I then took up the rear and kept an eye out.
Eventually, we hit the camp and got situated. Tess (you may remember her from our West Coast Trail Hike) and her friend Jade were hiking in later. That weekend was Tess’s birthday so I packed in a loaf cake… It sort of a cake with the shape and texture of banana bread. They pack very well. I let everyone know I had it and to be ready to sing happy birthday at some point. During this time the reason for the size of Marc’s pack became clear. He had brought all the comforts of home. He packed in a full-size saucepan and made spaghetti in it. Afterward, he produced a washbasin, filled it with hot water and proceeded to wash dishes… he actually did bring the kitchen sink, so to speak. He also packed in two bottles of wine. In fact, funny enough, we all packed a lot of liquor thinking we were the only ones who would. By the end, we had; 2 bottles of wine, a mickey of rye, a bottle of gin, some vodka, and a 26oz of jack daniels. Shortly after we ate, Tess and Jade arrived. They made themselves some dinner and we all sat around and chatted. At one point we talked with some of the other campers. During this exchange, a woman had stated “I’m so impressed with all the stuff you guys brought in! I was watching you guys unload pots, pans, sinks, liquor, and even a cake!” as she said it, Marc waved his arms to shush her… Tess spun around with a big grin “I GET CAKE!?”. Thanks, lady. She was mortified when she realized what she had done. Personally, I found it hilarious, but I still gave her a hard time, in jest. We continued to socialize, people came and went to their tents to get bedding set. At one point when everyone was there, I dug out the cake, stuck some candles in and lit them. We all sang happy birthday and I cut the cake. There was just enough for everyone, including the couple that spilled the beans.
That night Erin and I slept in our little tent for the first time since west coast trail. It is a dual entry (door on each side) and she left the fly open on her side. All that separated us from the night air was a thin layer of mesh to keep the bugs out. It was just a small change, but it really changed the atmosphere of the tent. It made it feel like I was even more open and exposed to the wilderness. It was pleasant but a little strange, it surprises me how a few millimeters of nylon can provide so much more security in my mind.
The hike out was surprisingly uneventful… aside from the swarm of mosquitos, I suppose. The bridge was repaired so we didn’t need to kick our boots off. I was able to round up some of the garbage I had spotted on the way in. I have a habit of picking up litter on the trail. I always try to come out with full pockets. At the trailhead, we all changed out of our sweaty clothes and searched our coolers for cold drinks. We then decided to hit a restaurant in town to grab some greasy pub food before heading home. Not sure why, but my body craves greasy food after hikes… of course, I always crave greasy food.
Posted in Hiking and tagged Alberta, backcountry, backpacking, hiking, Jasper, Outdoorswith 2 comments.
West Coast Trail: Part 2
This is the Exciting Conclusion to our West Coast Trail Adventure. Part 1 can be found here.
Day 5- Walbran to Campers
Another overcast morning with very light rain. Another morning sliding into cold wet clothes. My poor mood from the previous day had somewhat returned, and I was still interested in pushing a little harder to try and shave a day off. We realized doing so may require us to skip a major attraction, Owen Point, which can only be passed at low tide. Again we left it at “see how we feel at the first campsite.”
I skipped breakfast, as I usually do. I find I prefer to eat after being up and moving for an hour or two. I decided to start the day with some tea, as I was cold and wet everywhere. I asked Tess to add some of the whiskey we packed, for good measure. She handed me some whiskey with a hint of tea. I drank it down and we headed off, at which point I realized, not only had I not eaten yet, but that was the only thing I had drank that day. I was feeling pretty good suddenly, and the weather was clearing.
The day was all bush hiking. It was rough going, lots of mud and slippery roots. There were a few sections of boardwalk, and some ladders, but for the most part, it was a swamp, hopping from
While crossing a swamp, I spotted the lower section of a hiking pole. I grabbed it and asked Erin and Tess to stop so I could catch up. It took some finagling but I was able to use one of the screws and a piece of plastic to replace the missing bolt from Tess’s hiking pole. Just call me MacGruber.
Then we came out of the trees to the edge of a large valley and I saw it… three long ladders down, a long narrow suspension bridge, and three long ladders up the other side. All bolted to a rock face that went straight down to a depth sure to kill a man who dared to fall. It was a shame I couldn’t feel that whiskey anymore, I think I could have used the courage. I went first down the ladders, watching someone else cross was liable to make me panic. I then crossed the bridge alone, it was all less terrible than I had expected. I turned back to watch Erin cross and noticed a sign saying “max 6 hikers on the bridge at a time”. So I turned back to join Erin and waved Tess on, we took a few pictures and I turned to walk off and suddenly it hit me, the terror of heights.
I still had 3 ladders to go up. The first wasn’t bad, a reasonable lean and no left-right tilt. The second was
While hopping along roots over mud and water, I slipped and landed shin first on my hiking pole and putting a slight bend into the end of it. My shin was throbbing but nothing was seriously hurt. On the next section of boardwalk I was able to bend my pole back close to straight by wedging it between two boards.
As we reached the first campsite, “Campers”, the sky cleared up substantially. We checked out the campsite and realized we were the first ones there. We got an amazing spot in a sheltered clearing, and decided not to push further that day. Instead, we set up camp and I built the biggest fire I could.
As more and more people showed up, I made more and more friends. Everyone appreciated the fire, and slowly a ring of soaked boots materialized around it. After days of rain, it was nice to dry off around a fire and chat with all the friends we had made. It was also a little funny to see a bunch of hikers on day two while we were on day five; we felt like hardened warriors looking at new recruits. It is amazing the air or arrogance three hard days of hiking will give me.
We discussed the following day’s hike around Owen Point. Our options were to get up very early in the morning and hike in the dark to catch the morning low tide, or we could get a late lazy start, catch the evening low tide and risk setting up camp in the dark. Our party decided to get a late start and risk setting up camp in the evening. It seemed safer than hiking the rough bush trail in the dark in the morning.
After the point, we were told, is some serious bouldering and log clambering. We were up for it and asked another hiker, Lianne, whom we actually met on the bus ride, if she wanted to join up with us as going it alone didn’t seem safe, and four people struck me as more fun than just three. Our group of four also joined up with two other friends we had made on the rainy nights, Eric and Jarek. After a late night of chatting and enjoying the fire, we turned in knowing we had no reason to be up early the next day.
Day 6- Campers to Thrasher
I woke up early, for no particular reason. I moseyed around the campsite, took in the view, packed up slowly, and had some breakfast. Once everyone was ready, we slowly left camp. We all ended up leaving camp around the same time. It was Erin, Tess, me, Lianne, Eric, Jerek, and a group of four from Saskatchewan, whom we referred to as “The Prairie Boys”. I have to give them credit. It was an older gentleman, his two adult sons, and his son-in-law, and this was the first big hike for most of them. The patriarch, Tom, had bad knees with a limited range of motion, but that didn’t stop him. I think he pounded out that hike by sheer force of will. It was impressive and I hope I can do that when I find myself at his age.
As we hiked, we slowly separated apart, as we all hike at different speeds. After a bit of bush hiking, our group met up with Jarek, Eric, and Lianne on a large rock shelf on the beach, where we would wait for the tide to go down. At this point the weather was amazing, the sun was shining and heat was really coming off of that rock. We pulled our gear out and spread it to dry in the sun. Erin came over and informed me it was time to wash my shirt. I knew she was right because I walked upwind of one of the guys and he exclaimed: “Wow, someone smells ripe!” I gave Erin my button up shirt and she took it to the shore for a wash, I then decided I best wash my t-shirt too. I wrung them both out as best I could, I hung my button up on my hiking poles to dry and slid into my wet t-shirt. The
The ladies went for a swim in a little pool a few hundred feet down the beach, and I tried to start a little fire, with no luck. While we sat and waited, the patriarch of the Prairie Boys came down to say hello and have a look at the sea. They had decided to take the bush trail to the campsite instead of the beach as the bouldering struck them as inadvisable for a man who’s had two knee replacements. After he left, everyone just laid around.
Tess and Erin had a bit of a nap (as I mentioned in Part 1, those two can sleep anywhere). I sat on a log that did a great impression of a bench, put my headphones in, and drifted into some deep unknown level of relaxation. It was just amazing, I had been so tired, wet, and beaten down, and sitting in that sunlight, on that log, listening to music, was the most relaxed I had ever felt in my life.
Suddenly, a whistle cut the silence around me. We all jumped to our feet. We could hear yelling, whistles and air horns. Everyone who
Suddenly we heard yelling from where we just were. We bolted back down the trail to find we had missed the action all together. It turned out that the bear had been scared off the trail above (by the Prarie Boys, we would later learn), and wandered down to the beach. When it wandered out onto the rock shelf, Erin, Tess, and Eric made enough noise for it to go away. I was told didn’t seem afraid or angry… more
After that excitement, Erin and Tess made some coffee and we waited a little longer for the tide. Finally, it was low enough to be passable. It was a short hike across hard, flat, occasionally slippery rocks to Owen Point. Upon arriving, we had to wait a little more for the tide to go down. Once it was low enough we walked through a beautiful cave. Many photos were taken.
Shortly after the point, we reached the bouldering section we had heard tell of. It was rough going, but I found it fun. I put my hiking poles away and put on some gloves and really went for it. The guys had really pulled ahead of us at by this time. After a lot of climbing rocks and logs, we finally saw it, a campfire on the beach.
We arrived about a half hour before sunset. We set up our campsite at the last stop on our hike, the campsite “Thrasher”. We joined the guys at the fire, and shortly after that, the Prairie Boys came rolling in off the trail. They regaled us with their version of the bear encounter. We had a good last night, talking and making friends.
This day was undoubtedly the highlight of my trip and the best day I had had in a very long time. We all agreed, the rain was a good thing. Without it we wouldn’t have appreciated the day as much, and it gave us a real feeling of earning that hike. That night, Erin and I slept with the tent fly open, so we could look out at the ocean. The moon was full and bright, and a sailboat had anchored just off the beach, it was the perfect end to an amazing day.
Day 7- Thrasher to Pub
We all agreed it would be best to get up early to make sure we didn’t miss the ferry back to the end of the trail. We said our goodbyes to the Prairie Boys who had places to be after the hike, while our three remaining trail friends informed us their vehicles had beer in them. It didn’t take much for us to agree to meet up with them at the end of the trial for a tailgate party.
The trail was another slog through the bush, with quite a bit of climbing up and down, but it was an easy trail to see, even if a bit tricky at times. At least it wasn’t raining. On the hike out, I managed one last slip and fall, this time, bending my other pole nearly 90-degrees. It was somewhat comical but quite embarrassing as it happened while I was trying to get around some hikers going the other way.
We hit the last ladder at the end of the trail. It was tall and almost perfectly vertical, somehow that really makes it scary, like you’re being pulled off of it. We laid down on the pebbled beach and waited for our friends to join us. They weren’t far behind. I put on some music for us all to listen to while we waited for the ferry. Eric, after climbing down the ladder, pulled a rope that raised a float to signal the ferry… good thing someone reads the signs, who knows how long us goofs might have waited there.
While we waited for the ferry, I got everyone’s social media contact so we could be real life friends. Then, there was nothing to do but skip rocks, a skill I have clearly let diminish over the years. I was also introduced to “Jack-Knifing”. The goal is to throw a rock into the water with as small of a splash as possible. Typically you throw the rock high with a lot of backspin.
At long last, the boat came and took us to our waiting vehicles. We drove to the trail office to let them know we had survived. I informed them of our bear encounter she replied “Oh, he’s usually not dissuaded that easily”… comforting. We enjoyed a drink in the parking lot and agreed to meet at the local Port Renfrew pub for some food. I had been dreaming about that chicken burger all week… It was everything I thought it would be, as was the company and conversation.
We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, all of us having grown, I believe, as people for completing this hike. I also think that having made friends on the trail added significantly to the experience. I also have to note that I am very glad we didn’t shorten our trip by a day. We would have missed a lot on those last two days. I guess there is something to be said for toughing it out and
For those that are curious, this is what my trail journal looked like; just basic point form highlights. The writing is rough because I already have ugly writing, and because a lot of it was done in a tent, lying on my back, writing against my palm for stability.
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West Coast Trail: Part 1
Many years ago Erin decided she wanted to do The West Coast Trail, sometime in March 2018 she decided she wanted to do it after her CFE exam. The original plan was for her and our friend Tess to go, an invite was extended to me, I was a solid “maybe”. After our multiday hike through Wilmore, I was a “for sure”. As the hike approached, Erin inadvertently threw herself into quite a whirlwind of a week. She was writing her CPA exam on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday… that’s correct, a 3-day exam. Saturday she was a bridesmaid at a friends wedding, then Sunday we flew out to Victoria, Monday we drove to Port Renfrew to the end of the trail, the next morning we caught a bus to the start and began our hike. I took basic field notes every day, so let’s try telling this story in order. Lastly, I apologize for the quality of some of the photos, many were snapped with a wet cellphone that has a bad camera at the best of times.
Sunday
Our flight left Edmonton about an hour after it was scheduled to. I was somewhat thankful because it gave us time to sit in the airport and get a meal… for the first time in a long time, neither Erin nor myself had anything pressing to attend to. I didn’t have homework, she didn’t have any studying to do, we weren’t at home so we couldn’t even try to clean our basement, our rushed packing had left it looking like a riot had befallen a flea market. All we could do was eat our food and wait, and it was exactly what I needed. I could feel the tension melting out of my body. Eventually, we all loaded onto the plane and headed west. We hit some serious turbulence on the flight, but I seemed to be the only one worried, so it was probably fine. We were picked up and taken to the rental car agency where, through a series of fortunate events, our rental for a small hatchback was upgraded to a fully loaded SUV, including a nav system. Off we went quite pleased with how that worked out. We found our way to the hostel and got some beds, we then decided to take in some of Victoria’s nightlife… by which I mean, go get some food. We found a neat little pub where all the food on the menu was $5.95, I was surprised by the generous portions. While eating, I recalled seeing a homeless man and his dogs about half a block from our hostel. I couldn’t handle it, I ordered some chicken and fries to go, on our way back I handed them to him.
Monday
The hostel had a free breakfast, in classic hostel fashion, it was just toast and coffee or tea. I could tell it was going to be a good vacation, I was really getting into it. Somehow I was just so very pleased with breakfast and found myself in an unusually good mood, it started in the airport and just seemed to carry forward. From there we made our way to Port Renfrew, which would serve as the end of our trail. The drive was amazingly scenic and our rental car was much nicer than my car at home, so it was extra enjoyable. Erin and Tess missed the entire thing, they slept for most of the drive. We hit the only restaurant open, a pub, we then went back to our hotel to repack and make sure we had all we needed.
Day 1 – Trailhead to Michigan
An early start, we drove to the trail office and found parking. Turns out, a local resident rents out the yard of a burnt down house to hikers as parking space. At $30 for the week, it didn’t seem too bad. While waiting for the bus I made friends with some of the people waiting with us, I get the habit of talking to strangers from my mom. Eventually we jumped on the bus and off we went. Leading up to the hike the bus ride is what scared me the most. I have a bad stomach, and I knew it wouldn’t be a charter bus with a bathroom. I had been assured by a friend that the bus makes regular stops at bathrooms along the way. As we piled on the bus, the driver announced “There’s construction along the usual route, so we are going to have to take the back way, it’s a four-hour drive. I’ll stop half way so we can jump out and take a pee in the trees.” My stomach immediately churned. We started down an old beat up row of potholes held together by ribbons of road. The drive itself was uneventful, I listened to podcasts while Erin and Tess slept… seriously, those two can and do sleep anywhere.
By the time the bus arrived, I had a headache from the rattling and the dust. We sat through the trail orientation, which was basically how to use a tidal chart and to not feed the wildlife. We then began our hike. The first bit was on the beach that quickly turned uphill into the woods. Once in the woods, we decided to start using our hiking poles. It was then that Tess realized that her new poles were missing a tension screw that held the lowest portion in place. Luckily Tess isn’t particularly tall, so she was able to just extend the middle section to get the necessary length. A little further on, we came across an old dirt-bike on the trail. Erin informed me that there was time that people would try to run the trail with bikes and that some ended up abandoned on the trail.
Some distance after the bike we heard a strange barking noise. I was pretty confused until I saw on the map that we were near “Sea Lion Rock”. We came to a lookout from the ridge over the beach, and sprawled out on a nice big rock outcropping were dozens of sea lions. I can’t help but wonder how they got up there, they seemed to high above the water and the rock looked pretty steep on all the sides I could see.
Farther on down the trail we came across a lighthouse. The caretaker was friendly and he asked if we were on the first or last day. When we told him “First” he replied “Oh boy, have fun.” It struck me as ominous. Eventually, we arrived at our campsite, it was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was on an amazing beach and all the trees were full of floats. They must have washed up on shore and people strung them up It was quite beautiful.
We filtered some water from the nearby creek, it was dark red, like tea. Undoubtedly stained by the leaves on the ground. It tasted fine but was a touch concerning. By this time of day my headache had become somewhat debilitating. Luckily Tess had some painkillers in her first aid kit. It turned out that in the pre-trip chaos of weddings and exams, Erin’s carefully packed first aid kit had been left at home.
We built a small fire and cooked some supper, Erin’s famous Mac and Cheese with summer sausage. There were some other hikers camped beside us who were on their last day. They came over and said hello and offered us some of the extra food they didn’t need for their last day: five high protein granola bars. I was worried that had I under-packed my lunches, and these things ended up saving me. Eventually, the day turned to evening and as evenings tend to do, it turned to night. It was Erin and my first night camping in our new tent. It was a dangerous decision to use untested equipment but we simply had no time to take it out before then. All we had time to do was set it up in the yard.
Day 2- Michigan to Tsusiat falls
I woke up early and had a walk around while the tide was low. I was able to walk out to an outcropping of rock and get a closer look at an old boiler from a ship named “MASCOTTE” that burned up in a fire in 1893 after it was sent there to salvage the “MICHIGAN”. The campsite is actually named after the “MICHIGAN”. Once Erin and Tess were up we had some breakfast and began hiking.
The morning had some light rain and it was quite humid. It was during this days hike that we started to see some taller ladders and our first cable car. The wooden ladders were scarier than I thought they would be; they were nice and tall, and had been worn nice and smooth from all the use. They also had a nice layer of water on them to make them perfectly slick. It was like cowboy boots on ice.
Along a section of beach, we stopped for a break on a washed up log of the largest tree I had ever seen in Canada. On an island of big trees, this one was noteworthy for its size. I wonder how long it had lived, how long it took to fall down, how long it took to wash away into the ocean, and how long it took to come back to shore… boggles my mind to think about the things this tree was around for, the changes it was a witness to.
Eventually, we found our way up into the forest and back down a tall set of ladders and onto a beach. This campsite was Tsusiat falls, named for the nearby waterfalls. We wandered, looking for a good place to set up a tent and saw that the campsite was very crowded and by rather young people, we later found out it was an outdoor education class… but, at the time, I worried that it was a Junior B hockey wind up party… some of you might get that joke… let’s just say Junior B hockey is, in my experience, known for fights and drinking more than its known for hockey.
I set down my pack and began rounding up rocks to set up the tent. In that nice soft sand, our tend could not be pegged into the ground properly so we were using rocks to hold the pegs in place. I had just started actually setting up the tent when Tess came back from gathering firewood and informed me that they found a much better, and more secluded campsite.
I put my pack on my pack and bent forward to grab the tent, and the worst thing I can think of happened… I had left my rain cover on my backpack which had filled with sand when I set it down, then that sand fell, with great precision, down the back of my pants, into my underpants, and right between my cheeks… I hate to tell this story, but its almost funny in hindsight. Just imagine being tired, sweaty, and a little chilly and having about 3 handfuls of sand shoveled where the sun don’t shine… We headed to the new campsite, and I grumpily set up the tent while we still had light, I then went straight to the outhouse and did my best to get sand off, and out of me… It has been a few weeks since and I think most of it is gone now.
We then did our best to round up firewood and made a fire. While I got the fire going, Tess and Erin waded into the pool under the waterfall. I ran over and dipped a toe in and decided it was far too cold. We then enjoyed a delicious supper of mashed potatoes and sausage. After we had sat for a bit, a group of 4 came and set up nearby. I wandered over and let them know they were more than welcome to join us at our fire, I used the logic of “one big fire is better than two little fires”. After their camp was established they came and cooked on our fire and we became friends. They were headed the other direction and were from England. They were pretty fun people, and one of them had said that this was his first hike ever. One of the friends chimed in a corrected him, they had taken him up the Grouse Grind in Vancouver to test his tenacity. I cant think of a better trail to test grit. I have actually done that hike and found it pretty rough. So good for him for handling it.
Day 3- Tsusiat falls to Cribs Creek
In the morning, along our hike, we passed under an outcrop of rock that formed a short tunnel. The spirit of vacation overcame me and I climbed up to the top for a photo op. It started to drizzle rain and we put on our rain gear for fear of getting wet, shortly it turned into pouring rain. The gear was a bit of a useless gesture as we were hiking through wet trees. We reached the edge of the Nitinat Narrows around lunch time and waited for the boat to take us across. By this time our rain gear was soaked right through.
It was a short boat ride and ended at an amazing little seafood restaurant. We stopped in for lunch. We also huddled around a wood stove and hung our rain jackets, desperately trying to dry off. While we ate lunch, we were informed that the local band that owned the area rented cabins, just basic 4 bunk cabins with wood stoves for $100 per night. I thought that would be nice, Tess also mentioned she would be ok with it, but for some reason, neither of us really put it forth as an option, all kind of assuming no one else wanted to.
After lunch, we continued our rainy walk along the beach. It was along this stretch that Tess noticed some beach glass. We had been told at orientation that we could take anything man-made from the beach, so beach glass is fair game. I collected beach glass for the rest of the hike, it seems many people have no idea what it is or how to spot it.
We nearly missed our campsite as we were walking along a bit of rocky platform away from shore when we ran into a group coming the other way. They were looking for the same campsite, “Cribs Creek”. Both groups panicked worried that they had severely overshot their destination. As luck would have it, it was right where we had met, and just kind of hidden into the trees a bit. We walked along the low tide and made it to shore to find that everyone had set their tents up in the shelter of the trees, right next to the outhouse and bear boxes (food storage bins). We all kind of shrugged and set up our tents in the group, hoping that so many tents would dissuade a curious bear. We also cooked right next to our tent, another camping faux pas. While setting up to cook, we discovered that our soaked lighter no longer worked, luckily other campers were more than willing to lend us a lighter. Safety in numbers I guess.
We took a look at the map and discussed the possibility of pushing to a farther campsite than originally planned for the following day to try and shave a day off of our hike. It is a very bizarre feeling that I had never experienced before, no matter how bad things were we were minimum 2 nights away from the end. All the other multi-day hikes I went on, there was never a time you couldn’t just hike out in a day. It was a frightening “trapped” feeling. We left it at “we will see how we feel when we get to the next campsite, if we are up for it and the weather is still bad, we will hike to the next.”
At 6:30 after cooking and eating in the rain, we were ready for bed. We climbed in our tent and stripped out of our soaked clothes, wrung them out outside of our tent and set them in the fly. I used my soaked shirt to try and squeegee up some of the water in our tent floor but it more just spread it around. I then hung it up inside the tent in hopes it would go from soaked to soggy by morning (it did not). We then set out our bedding and changed into dry sleep clothes. It is a great feeling to go from cold and wet to dry and warm in a sleeping bag. For as bad as it was, our sleeping gear was still dry and that is worth more than you can imagine until you are there. I laid there wishing I could go back in time 7 hours and rent one of those cabins. We read for a bit and went to sleep, somehow I managed to sleep from sometime between 8 or 9 until 7 am.
Day 4- Cribs Creek to Walbran
The rain had nearly stopped by morning, which was a lucky break Setting up or taking down camp in the rain is miserable and really opens the door to soaked gear, though most of our gear was soaked anyway. Getting dressed in the morning was something akin to torture. ALL of my clothes were sopping wet, including my underpants that had spent the night in the fly of the tent getting nice and cold. I slid them on while making a variety of interesting noises and faces. Erin saw the humour, and I do too, now that some time has passed. Don’t worry, they still had some sand left in them.
There was a river running right beside our campsite and into the ocean. I watched as some hikers attempted to cross it via the rocks we had hiked on the day before, but it appeared just too deep and too wide to jump or rock hop. I decided the smartest way to cross was over a large slick log running the width of the river.
I explained the plan to everyone and said I would go first, to prove concept. I unbuckled my pack so it wouldn’t drown me if I fell. It was a slow cautious walk, but I made it without incident, as did Erin, Tess, and several other hikers. Shortly after that came another ordeal, and outright scramble over a pile of logs that looked like a lumber mill accident… or ambitious beavers, but we made it over. Our trail continued with a lot of beaches. The highlights of the day were seeing another lighthouse and a lot of bear signs, had that bear poop been any fresher we would have seen it being deposited.
We crossed two more rivers via cable car. The rain began again in the afternoon. The last stretch of trail up to the last cable car was all bush, and undoubtedly the worst excuse for a trail I had ever seen. It was not uncommon for the trail to be rough and muddy up to this point, but this was on a whole new level. I would look at the bush closely and see a boot print in the mud 15 feet ahead and know that’s where the trail was. I was essentially acting as a tracker following previous hikers, it reminded me of tracking animals while hunting. At times there would be a bit of trail, that would end abruptly at a deep swamp that we had to scramble around. All while in steady rain and on slippery tree roots. It was at this time that my attitude really fell apart, I didn’t have a big flip out, but I think it was obvious to my companions that I had started to breakdown.
There was nothing to do but keep pushing forward. We were coming up on the campsite and pushing on to the next one simply wasn’t an option, that last push through the woods was too taxing physically and mentally. Again we set up a small tent city in the campsite, this time at Walbran. There were fewer people and the rain had let up somewhat while we set up camp. We borrowed a lighter and made some supper.
We began chatting with some of the hikers we recognized from previous campsites and actually the bus ride to the trailhead. It was nice to talk to some other people and hear their thoughts on the weather. Misery loves company, but I still think I had the worst attitude about it, or maybe we all hid it well from each other.
After supper, I decided to try and light a fire to boost morale. After nearly an hour of making nothing more than smoke, it had gone to the hardest rain I had seen all trip. I was thoroughly soaked, Tess came and informed me that she and Erin had actually gotten a fire going on the other side of the campsite. The spot they had found was a little more sheltered, and the underside of one of the previously burnt logs was still dry when they flipped it over. They then found kindling under some large fallen trees and used some wood shavings from the composting toilets as fire starter. By the time I got to it, it was a true roaring fire.
We stood around it for quite a while, steam rolling off of our sopping clothes. So much steam that it was a little hard to breathe at times. I didn’t care, I’d rather suffocate on steam than freeze to death in wet clothes.
It was another soggy night in the tent, but again, we had the amazing luck of still having dry sleep clothes and sleeping bags. Someday I’m going to write a book about hiking, half stories and half instructional. Rule number 1 will be: ALWAYS keep your sleeping bag and sleeping clothes dry, no exceptions.
Make sure you bring your butts back for part two, coming soon!
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Erin’s Cafe
Erin had a brief break between classes (shes headed for her CPA in September, so send some good vibes), so we decided to take a long weekend off of work and head into the mountains, along with our dog, Jasper.
Start of the hike
One of my favorite restaurants is Erin’s Cafe. It’s a bit hard to get to and its always moving around, but the food and the atmosphere are hard to beat. The Chef is cute too. This time, I was informed the Cafe would be popping up in Willmore Wilderness Park. We drove there and started hiking in, our first meal was lunch, a light snack, if you will, of dried fruits, nuts, and a hint of chocolate (regular trail mix with the addition of almonds and dried apricots), our lunch dessert was chocolate drizzled over nougat and peanuts in bar form (snickers) it was delicious. The hike in was fraught with rain and river crossings, the deepest being somewhere just below knee height which did require me to carry my dear companion, Jasper. He was less than impressed with the idea. I, on the other hand, was really enjoying myself, I had never really hiked in a heavy rain before and found that it was not the hindrance I thought it would be. Turns out having a good raincoat and rain cover for your pack works as well as advertised. We also got very lucky and didn’t have to set up our tent in the rain as it died down just before we got to our campsite.
River crossing fun. Seriously though, this is my favourite picture of myself.
Jasper wasn’t big on the rain.
At the end of our 20km hike in, we set up our hotel room (tent) and I watched the expert chef prepare the first supper of the trip, a single course meal of Rotini with fettuccine sauce and summer sausage. Literally just boiled noodles, with a pack of knorr soup mix and some cubed summer sausage, it was good but made me… flatulent. After supper entertainment was conversation around a campfire. The sky was overcast and threatening to start raining again, we laid our gear out to try and dry it a bit, but shortly after supper, it started to rain. We retreated to our tent, read our books and went to sleep. Jasper curled up in Erin’s sleeping bag with her.
Our campsite
Making a fire
Day two, breakfast was a medley of fruit, granola, milk, and some hints of chocolate. It was granola cereal with dried fruit, chocolate chips, and dehydrated milk (it works great, just add water and go). We then proceeded to hike up a mountain on the south side of the pass. On top of the mountain, we found some sheep sign (poop) but no sheep. We were fortunate enough to spot a ptarmigan, it was the first time I had seen one. Once on top of the mountain, I glassed around and we decided to go down and back up the next one to have a look around. Besides the view, it seems all there was to see was a curious marmot. We stopped for a repeat of lunch, complete with another snickers bar, and then headed back to our base camp. On the route back we spotted 7 marmots in a group, two of whom were wrestling each other, must have been brothers. Once back at camp I looked at the menu and ordered the garlic mashed potatoes with summer sausage with an extra dash of olive oil. It was powdered garlic mashed potatoes that Erin made, she then added a bit of olive oil for calories, some Parmesan cheese and again some summer sausage, it is one the best meals I have ever eaten… it is very likely my hunger made me bias. The day concluded with us sitting around a campfire. I took an occasional break to look at the mountains with my binoculars in a vain attempt to see wildlife. That night I decided to try and let Jasper cuddle up with me. It turns out we are both too fat to share a sleeping bag. I ended up stuck on my left side all night, I barely slept and awoke with a sore shoulder.
Attempting to dry our gear before heading out.
Jasper looked chilly so we put Erin’s bandanna on him.
Erin having a nap after our trail lunch
That Island in the middle is our campsite
Me glassing for sheep
Alpine flowers
there was still snow in many places
Jasper tired out from a long day
Supper. Dehydrated garlic mash potatoes are the best ever.
Dis mine
Cozy
Day 3, we looked for a trail up a mountain on the north side of the pass but were unsuccessful. We instead did a lengthy walk through the valley. It was a nice and gentle walk on a nice wide trail. Which was just too simple for Erin and I so we attempted to blaze a trail through the bush… It didn’t go well, but Erin did find a huge morel mushroom. We gave up on blazing the trail and headed back to our base camp, the way we came in. We made it back to camp and for supper enjoyed conchiglie pasta noodles with an amazing cheddar sauce and just a hint of summer sausage… We just packed in some macaroni and cheese and added the remainder of our cubed summer sausage. For dessert, in honor of Erin’s late grandfathers birthday, we had a lavacake and shot of whiskey. The lava cake was just a dehydrated one from the camping store and we packed in my flask. It was all quite good. We then had another campfire and sat around a chatted. I filled up our water bottles from the stream and then we went to bed.
Jasper borrowed my jacket
Lots of animal tracks
Erin Climbing
Found this at a campsite
Giant morel in July
Erin Climbing
Erin Climbing
me, from Erin’s climbing spot
our trail
one of the many campsites
mid-hike nap
tired and cuddly
family portrait
Mac and cheese is already dehydrated so it only make sense to bring it hiking
no time for pictures when you’re eating cake
scenery
Day 4, the last day, we got up a little bit earlier than usual and packed up our camp. We more or less retraced our trail in, this time the weather was amazing and the barefoot river crossings were more refreshing than torturous. That said, I found that the blisters I had started to develop at the end of day 3 were starting to really ripen during the walk out. We stopped along the trail around 9 am for some breakfast as I prefer not to eat immediately after waking up, I find it upsets my stomach. On the last, and widest river crossing, I decided to just let my boots soak, they were already quite soggy as I had to cross the rivers barefoot and my feet didn’t dry completely before putting my boots back on, so over time they got wet. This decision was likely a mistake as my now sopping wet boots really made my blisters come to life. Blisters are a rarity for me, typically my feet are very forgiving. On one of our stops, Erin was kind enough to bandage my foot for me… Hey, this cafe has a nurse too!… wait, I hope she washes her hands before preparing food. We finally limped our way to the trail-head, Jasper immediately ran under the car to get in the shade. Erin and I changed out of our sweaty clothes and I began working the water pump in the parking lot, after a few minutes I started to think maybe it’s just decorative, as nothing was happening. A stroke before my surrender, I heard that unmistakable sound of water coming up the well. It was ice cold, I pumped it while Erin splashed some on her face, then we switched.. it may be the most refreshing experience of my life, that ice cold well water helped peel the layers of sunscreen and bug spray off my sweaty face. Glad I didn’t give up on pumping.
Our campsite had a “green thrown” (open air outhouse)
Breakfast
The crossings were much nicer on the hike out
We loaded our gear and our dog into the hot car, rolled the windows down and headed out. Erin had to drive because I was too burnt out and my feet hurt. We stopped for pizza on the way home and it was everything I thought it would be. Erin calculated all our walking, we did 72km total those four days… no wonder Jasper was so tired out, what a trooper.
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