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.
Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travelwith no comments yet.
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!
Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travelwith no comments yet.
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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Shadow Lake Hike
Adrian and I have been friends since early elementary school, Troy and I have been friends since junior high. As many guys tend to do, we occasionally go months on end without talking much or seeing each other. Thanks to technology we now have a continuous group chat. It was in this group chat that it came to my attention that we hadn’t seen each other in a good long while. So I suggested a hike, Adrian lives in Calgary and Troy lives just east of Edmonton. So the plan was, Troy would pick me up on his way down to Calgary, we would spend Friday night at Adrian’s, Saturday we hike in and Sunday we hike out and drive home.
Friday night, Adrian and Troy convinced me, as is tradition, to go out for a night on the town. I’ve got to admit, Calgary is a nice city to wander around on a Friday night, the architecture is amazing, the bars we went into seemed quite nice, not too crowded or loud. At the end of the night, Adrian, being a bit of a foodie, took us to some rough looking truck stop for 3 AM breakfast. It was dang delicious.
The next morning none of us awoke with ambition. We slowly repacked and organized our gear, luckily Troy had a lot of his own gear and I had duplicates of most of my gear since over the years I have hoarded and upgraded my equipment. It was interesting to see their packing style compared to mine. I have started to get into that snobby minimalist hiker mentality, while they packed more like they were going car camping… I do not pack things that I MIGHT want to use. They, on the other hand, packed 3 breakfasts in case they changed their minds on what they wanted in the morning. Good thing they’re tough. In fairness, I feel I should mention I used to be much worse than them. On our early hikes Erin and I packed in cans of stew and I remember bringing multiple books, unsure of which one I would want to read that night.
We drove to Banff and went to the tourist office so I could replace my lost park pass and double check that our campsite was accessible. It turns out, that this early into the spring, the Twin Lakes campsite is still covered in snow and mud. So we made a snap decision to do a longer hike into Shadow Lake. We hit the trailhead and changed into our hiking clothes, slathered on sunscreen and bug spray (why has no one made a sunscreen/bug spray combo? seems I always use them together anyway). We then started our hike in, the trail started with along a wide mining road up a gentle grade. Along the path, we crossed a few patches of downed trees, likely from melting snow sliding down the mountain. About halfway to our intended destination, we reached a nice long bridge crossing a fast running stream and a campsite. It was nice to dip our hands in some cool water and splash it on our faces. From there we started to gain elevation on switchbacks. They led up through old timber and eventually brought us to our campsite. We set up our two tents, we had a 1 person tent and a 2 person tent. We figured the best sleeping arrangement was Troy in the single person and Adrian and I in the two person. The reasoning being, I toss and turn, and barely sleep at night on a good day, and Adrian sleeps like the dead… but also snores like a generator running low on fuel. So Troy being the only normal sleeper in the group would likely kill one of us if forced to share a tent. While we made camp, a French couple arrived and set up their tent, I gave a casual hello before we went to the kitchen area and made supper. We had some basic dehydrated food packs, they were… edible, for the most part. While we were eating our neighbours came by and said hello again and joined us at our table. We got to chatting and it turns out they were from Montreal and do quite a bit of flying around to go hiking. They seemed like thoroughly nice people.
Trees Knocked Down On The Trail
Selfie
Found Some Inukshuks
Adrian Crossing A Bridge
Found A Shoe, Nothing Weird Or Unsettling About That.
Flooded Kitchen
Mountain Man Troy
After supper, I washed up the dishes and we decided to throw around the frisbee that Troy brought “just in case”. Turns out those things are a lot of fun and super handy in the backcountry. The French couple even joined us, turns out ultimate frisbee is more popular in the east and they both played on teams… Once the sun went down we didn’t have much to do other than go to bed, so we did that… and let me tell you… Adrian and I are not small… but that tent sure is, good thing we are such close friends. I was fighting a cold all week and that night it decided it was time to strike and shut off the airway through my nose…. so I spent the night mad that I couldn’t breathe and somewhat annoyed at Adrian’s snoring… Maybe I was just jealous that he was able to sleep.
Cozy In The Tent
The next morning I had cereal with rehydrated milk while Troy and Adrian had rehydrated eggs… Troy being the over-packer that he is, somehow produced a few packets of ketchup.. he sure is handy to have in the backcountry. We bid the French couple adieu while we broke down most of our camp. We left Troy’s single person tent set up and cached our gear in it so we could hike the last few km up to Shadow Lake without our bulky packs. It was a bit of a chilly overcast morning, in fact Troy had to lend me the old farm jacket he packed. It was around that time I stopped making fun of his 75 liter pack. When we got to the lake it was just clear enough to see the mountains on the far side. It was an amazing sight.
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So Long Old Friend
It was recently announced that Wholesale Sports will be shutting its doors. I feel it is important that I pay my respects.
When I was a kid, it was always exciting to come to the city because it meant we might go to wholesale sports. I can still remember the layout of that old store and how I would drool over the airguns. When the new location opened, I couldn’t believe how spacious it was. When I finally moved to the city for university I, of course, applied. I told the manager I was willing and able to work in any department. I was hired on in the camping section with the understanding that I would train and fill in for other departments when they needed it.
It was at that camping kiosk that I read my first Capstick book. That turned into a lifelong addiction to books on African hunting and exploration. It was from that old used rack that I bought my first deer rifle. I paid $450 for a used Ruger M77 in .243, I’ve still got the sale papers for it buried away in my safe. It was also that job that financed by trip to New Zealand and Fiji. When I got back from Fiji I had $0 in my account but I walked into the store and was given a job, at the gun counter this time. It was all those conversations with hunters over the years that made me decide to take up bear hunting. It was those Capstick books that convinced me to write about it, and it was a coworker who told me to send my story into Alberta Outdoorsmen. It ended up being my first published story. When I finished university I moved on to a job on an oil rig. It paid well but was short lived, I was laid off and Wholesale saved me again, this time with a job in their warehouse. That job helped keep Erin and me afloat until our wedding and trip to South America.
My first deer rifle
I don’t know what their reason for the shutdown was but I would speculate they placed the blame on outside competitors and overall market down turn in the face of Canada’s current recession. I also have some strong held beliefs that some things could have been done much better, but that is simply a byproduct of working on the ground floor of a company for nearly a decade… You get to see behind the curtain from time to time.
Wholesale has announced that their last day of business will be December 28, 2017 until then there will be a continuous clearance sale. So when we go to cash in on the sales and pick the flesh from the bones of the dead.. lets try to remember that this old relic of the past was once a hub of education for young hunters. It also helped more than one person become who they are today… for better or for worse.
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Jasper’s Big Weekend
Erin and I had a pretty crazy weekend, it appeared we were double booked, plus we wanted to go hiking. Naturally, there was no compromise. First, we took our young Jasper to the Vermillion fair where we learned that he doesnt mind crowds, but has a real problem with heavy draft horses… I think its the bells that make him go so crazy. I also came to the realization the a fairway is dog heaven.. its covered in food and interesting smells.
After the fair we went to the farm where he just ran and ran to his heart’s content. The following day we went on a four hour drive to meet up with some friends to go camping. Again, Jasper was in his own version of heaven, the campsite was full of dogs and people willing to feed him.
The following day we drove another three hours to the town of Jasper. I giggled most of the way at the thought of taking Jasper to Jasper. We arrived late in the day and scrambled to find a campsite, as we pulled in there was a big no vacancy sign. I decided to go ask if they knew about the other camp grounds.. it turns out that sign was lying and they had a site we could take. We took it, set up camp, and made dinner.. smokies, cooked on the camp stove, with caramelized onions… because I’m fancy. The three of us cuddled up in our tent and froze all night. Erin was cold from the air mattress bringing the cold up from the ground and I was cold because Jasper stole my blankets. The things we do for our pets.
keeping an eye on the camp site
must be his rock
Jasper dog park
In the morning I made my super secret homemade pancakes and some homemade bacon I got from my step-dad at the farm. It was exactly what I needed. In fact, I was so set on that breakfast that I made a trip into town the night before to round up some maple syrup, we took Jasper to the dog park at the same time, it was quite nice. After overfilling ourselves on breakfast, we broke down camp and headed to the trail head. We decided to do Whistlers, its a hike that takes us up to the gondola which we can then ride down and hike along the road back to our car. Its also one of the few pet friendly hikes in the park. The higher alpine ones they are worried about dogs harassing the caribou.
Breakfast of champions
The start of the trail was heavily treed and consisted mainly of switchbacks. Jasper loved it, so much to smell. As we approached the treeline we had to cross a few rock slides. The trail was very well marked and not too treacherous but from Jasper’s low vantage point it was quite daunting. So Erin carried him, which allowed me to snap the best picture I have ever taken.
hiking up the switch backs
Best Picture I’ve taken yet
Always climb the rocks
Erin Taking a picture
The fires in BC reduced visibility
Just lookin good on the trail
All along the hike we crossed paths with people who had to stop and pet him and ask his name. All were excited about his name. We also crossed paths with a few marmots, Jasper was not a fan but luckily we kept him on his leash so he wouldn’t harass the wildlife and they were inclined to keep their distance. We reached the gondola and decided to go a little farther up the trail. Im out of shape so my legs were killing me from the 7km uphill, Jasper was still pulling me up the hill. Along the route we met a friendly stranger who stopped to pet Jasper and poured some water from his bottle into his hand so the dog could have a drink. It was a very kind gesture.
one of the many animals Jasper didnt care for
We reached the first summit and I had decided I was tired enough, we still had a gondola ride down. We headed back to the gondola and purchased tickets for the ride down.. and an “I heart Jasper” sticker for my water bottle, I couldn’t resist. While in line we started talking to the kind stranger who had given Jasper some water, he had a family with him and they all had English accents. We crammed in the gondola like sardines and made the 15 minute ride down. We still had to walk from the parking lot to our trail-head, about a 5km walk along the road. As I readjusted the gear in my pack and dug out my sweater, the English family took one more chance to pet Jasper before heading to their vehicle.
Erin and Jasper
Taking in the view
Some Cool Dudes
Erin and I were walking back along the road to our car when a camper pulled up beside us and yelled “hey Jasper, want a ride?” Erin and I shrugged and said “sure” so we hopped in with the English family and chatted while they drove us. It turns out the gentleman who shared his water was from Vancouver and everyone else was visiting from England. My guess was they were his aunt, uncle, and cousins, but that’s purely a guess. I asked him to drop us off at the turnoff about a mile from our car as the road was really rough and there was no sense subjecting that nice family and their rented camper to those kinds of roads. We hopped out and thanked them for the ride. They waved and were on their way to explore more of our country. I got the impression they’ll fit right in.
After we reached our car we headed for home and I finally made a point of stopping and walking around in that nice shallow water just off the road outside of town. For years I had been driving passed and saying “eh, next time”.
Walking on the beach
he just never looks at the camera
P.S. Sorry mom, I got into a vehicle with strangers. But don’t worry, I had a terrier to protect me.
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Little Shovel Pass
Despite all the time I’ve spent outside, I, for some damn fool reason, have never gotten around to actually going it alone. A few weeks ago I went to Jasper by myself and stayed in the huge public camp ground. This weekend, I decided to up it a bit and try a solo back country hike.
Early in the week I called the booking office and asked what they had available for the weekend, I was told that all they had left was a campsite at “Little Shovel” it is one of the first stops for people doing the famous Skyline trail. As I only had one night, my plan was to simply hike into the campsite, then in the morning hike to the pass, take in the views, and hike out the way I came in.
Saturday morning I drove to Jasper, and was thoroughly annoyed when I hit a heavy traffic jam at the entry gates to Jasper. It is understandable that there would be a line, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that I was trying to escape the city, and its traffic, only to be stuck in traffic at the park. Finally I got into the park and checked in at the park office and headed to the trail head. It was a lengthy, but scenic, drive passed Maligne lake. I parked my car, loaded my gear on my back and hit the trail. This would be my first run with my new backpack, a Tenzing TZ 6000, which I have purchased with the crazy idea of someday doing a back country hunt…….. someday… someday.
I immediately noticed that I am too tall and too thin for it.. I did some tinkering and found that if I maxed out the waist belt it finally snugged up enough to be useful, after a few hundred yards of walking I found that the pack settled into a more comfortable position. That said, it still wasn’t as comfortable as my regular pack, and old kelty that has more miles than most cars… so maybe its not a fair comparison, at this point my body may have broken into the pack and not the other way around.
A Little Extra Strapping
Anyway, lets continue. I noticed on the drive in that some of the landscape was recovering from a fire a few years ago. Much to my delight, so was the trail. It was neat to see all the old burnt trees standing stoically while the green grasses and shrubs displayed their vibrant green around them. All along the trail I noticed there was nearly an infestation level of squirrels, they were cute, but it also made me think about hunting some. I have always wondered what they taste like, they are popular table fare in the USA so they cant be that bad right? The trial was initially well packed, wide, and on a gentle grade. As the miles went on the trail steepened and turned to switchbacks. It was still clearly marked and well worn, the Skyline trail is one of Jasper’s most popular so that’s not surprising. All along the trail I munched on energy bites and dried apples and bananas. I prefer to walk and snack instead of stop for lunch, I find it easier on my stomach to eat small amounts over a long period instead of gorging myself, which I can easily do as I have extremely limited self control.
Beginning Of The Trail
Along the way I passed a few small lakes and ponds, most showing a beautiful turquoise colour and filled with dead fall. They looked exactly what you imagine a pristine alpine lake looks like. I was the second of 8 parties to reach the campsite so I certainly had my pick of where to set up camp. I looked at the remaining sites and chose the high ground, for no particular reason beyond it was level and I remember being told, in my childhood, that high ground was an advantage for some reason. I set up my tent and then went to the eating area and had a boiled egg and some orange bell pepper that I had chopped the night before. I then went and laid in my tent for a few hours.
Alpine Pond
Bridge on The Trail
Selfie on The Bridge
Campsite Number 5
My Bedside Table, Good Reading Is Important
Dinner With a View
I was half asleep when like a thundering herd, a family with a small army of children came roaring into the campground. As best I could tell, the three young boys were having a yelling competition, if so, they had all certainly brought their “A” game. No doubt they were professionals. I decided I best go use the “bathroom” before I lost the daylight. For those of you unfamiliar, a back country bathroom is essentially a toiled seat on a large drum with some wood that goes about half way up your back for privacy. It is nice to be out in the open and take in nature while doing what nature compels you to do, however, there is always mosquitoes to… hurry the affair along. At any rate, I needed to use the facilities. I grabbed my toilet paper and wandered toward the toilet. Along the way I stopped and chatted with the parents of the amateur choir. Unfortunately, while I was chatting, one of the kids ran up to the table and grabbed their toilet paper and ran off. Knowing that privacy was limited, I decided to wait around at the eating area for the kids to come back before heading to the facilities. To my understanding, based on what I had heard, the kids decided that the mosquito infested toiled was better used as a drum set/ sound stage. I got so tired of waiting I decided to go back to my tent and wait for the noise to get closer before attempting to use the washroom. After about an hour of spirited yelling and kicking of the facilities, they finally decided they were hungry and I climbed out of my tent and finally got my chance.
Throne
I went to bed and began to read my book, again, hampered by the noise outside. Eventually the parent intervened, I guess eleven pm is the curfew for yelling in a campsite these days. I am glad that parents are trying to get their kids into hiking and the outdoors, dont get me wrong, but people hike 10 km into the wilderness to get away from people and noise, or maybe that’s just me. At any rate, that all seemed like nice people despite being a little rambunctious for my mood. As dark descended, sleep did not come easy, even in the quiet of night. I tossed and turned most of the night, in the early hours of the morning there was some gusts of wind and a bit of rain, but nothing exciting.
The next morning I had another boiled egg, this time it was called breakfast. I then hit the trail to see Little Shovel pass, long before anyone else in the campsite got out of bed. I stuffed some more dried fruit in my pocket along with my bear spray and a bottle of water. It took just over an hour to reach the beautiful alpine meadow and another half hour to reach the end of it, and the sign declaring it the pass I was looking for. I then spun on my heels and headed back to the camp ground. I quickly broke my camp and headed back toward the trail head.
Just a Few Miles of This
A Patch of Flowers I found in a Little Dip
Proof!
Along the way I passed a few muddy patches with what looked like either moose or elk tracks. I could tell they were fresh because there where still wet track on the dry parts of the trail. When I came to a nice wide bend with a lake below I was sure I had lost the tracks I had been lazily following, I stopped to dig a granola bar out of my pack. Below me in the lake I heard water splashing. I thought at first it might be a person, this left me in a strange dilemma. If it was a person, it would be creepy to sneak down silently and watch them, if it was wildlife, announcing my presence might scare it off. Luckily my question was answered when I heard a deep grunt, at this point I was sure it was a moose. I stayed quiet and leaned left and right trying to get a good view through the trees when I suddenly heard more splashing. Slowly a swimming cow moose, making her way across the small lake, came into view. I was watching intently when two hikers rounded to bend ahead of me. I waved, made a shushing motion and pointed at my eyes and then to the moose. They were as enthralled as I was. After a few short minutes the moose was across and the hikers and I crossed paths we exchanged a polite “good morning” and a “good eye” and we were on our respective ways. Unfortunately it was simply too far away to get a good picture, sorry. Someday Ill invest in a good camera.
I made it to the parking lot, loaded my now heavy backpack into my little car, changed into clean clothes and began the long drive back home. I had set out to do what I wanted, do a solo hike. I just hope that next time its a little more solo. I also hope that that family keeps hiking, and never gets dissuaded by grumps like me.
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