Nepal Notes Part 9: Old Fashioned Nepal
If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.
After spending weeks in Pokhara doing not much of anything, I suddenly had a very busy week of seeing Chitwan and Bhaktapur, then hopping a plane to Bangkok. There were definitely a lot of things I was able to do and see in Nepal and yet every time I talked to a fellow traveler, I found out about something else. I think a person could easily spend months here just hiking and site seeing.
Bhaktapur
I had a few days left before my trip to Thailand so I decided to see Bhaktapur, an older outskirt of Kathmandu, famous for its architecture, temples, and a living goddess. I took the Nepali version of Uber and caught a half hour ride on the back of a scooter, while wearing my big backpack. Things like this are why I pack light. We found the neighborhood easily enough but my driver spoke no English and couldn’t find my hostel. Eventually he made some calls and someone came and found us. I was walked down a street, through a yard, a construction site, and down an alleyway to my new home… Hostel Swastik. And yes, their logo was a huge swastika. Glad it means something else there. The hostel was rough around the edges, but the staff were friendly. The man at the desk said he was friends with the owner of Planet Nomad, where I had spent so much of my time in Thamel. My room was outside of the hotel and the flimsy wood door opened directly onto an alleyway. I tired to shower but the water was cold and little more than a trickle. With my entire body tensed, I washed my hair, then went for a walk. I think I found the Nepal I was looking for, the one I had imagined in my head for years when someone talked about the far off land of Kathmandu. The architecture was what the guide book claimed it was and then some. Beautiful orange bricked buildings with hand carved wood accents lined every street. Every corner had some sort of shrine or temple. It felt like a person could spend a lifetime finding, documenting, and researching them all. Old public baths were everywhere, but they were all full of murky green water. They weren’t built with this many people and this much pollution in mind. Every doorway and window had hand carved details. Even dead end alleyways had some kind of statue or shrine at the end. It felt like the city had been there for thousands of years. The narrow streets kept most cars out so at times it felt untouched by modern man… then a scooter would fly by. It was also a relief to walk the streets and not see tourists and trinket sellers… or drug dealers.
That night I did not sleep well as I had a rather strange incident. A man in the alleyway was yelling a lot and banging on a door across from mine. My belief, even at the time, was that he had gone out for a few drinks, locked himself out of his house, and was now trying to wake someone inside to let him in. That said, I wasn’t interested in taking chances. I quietly got out of bed, left the lights off, and silently moved the small table and chairs to block the door. It was a wood door with a dead bolt across, but I didn’t trust it, and I dont trust drunk strangers. My fear was he would get tired of fruitlessly banging on his door, and possibly try another. So, the simple solution was barricade the door without him seeing or hearing it happen so as to avoid drawing attention. Eventually the yelling stopped, I hope and assume someone let him in to bed. It was an odd incident and, in the grand scheme of things, shows just how safe Nepal is. This being the most worrying incident I had in regards to other people, and it was just a drunk man pounding on his own door.
My only full day in Bhaktapur I went to the main square (also called Durbar Square) to see the sights. I was fast talked into hiring a guide for an unknown amount. I would later learn the price was $20usd AND I had to hear his sale pitch on art. The guide was good, he showed me around and had lots to say. I also got to see the Kumari. She is a living goddess, and very young girl, who is somehow the ideal beauty in Nepal. She occasionally comes to the window and stares at the crowd, it is said, if she smiles, it’s a bad omen. Photos are strictly forbidden. It was strange but fascinating. The guide also showed me several other small squares I would have never found on my own, it ended up being a full day of touring instead of just a quick walk to a square. I do think I over paid, but not by much. After my tour, the guide took me to his art studio to sell me some paintings, as with all art in Nepal, it was all religion based and wouldn’t fit in my backpack anyway. I took his card and promised that if I were to buy any art, it would be from him. Silently, I promised myself I would buy the first painting that didn’t have a god on it, just to support and encourage diversity in the art world.
That night I asked about the movie room they had a poster for. It turned out to be a very old beat up projector that took some effort on their part to get connected to a barely running laptop. They had about half a dozen pirated movies on offer, the only one that stood out to me was Uncharted. I had played the video game series and had been thinking that Bhaktapur looked like something out of one the games… so it felt fitting. The theater room was large, the projection covered an entire wall, and I had the place to myself. For 50 rupees, I ordered a bowl of popcorn. On the floor cushions, I sat thinking… I have a bizarre knack for ending up in empty hostels and hotels. My ex and I once had most of the island Nananu-i-ra to ourselves, it was just us, alone at the hotel, and 5 Germans at a neighboring resort… It kind of felt like we were about to be hunted for sport.
Back to Kathmandu
The follow day, I took a taxi to a hotel near the Kathmandu airport. I walked to the nearby aviation museum and did my best not to laugh at the small plastic scale models, similar to what I built as a kid. Some were more of the fantasy styles but rounded out the collection nicely. The entire museum was contained within a hollowed out jetliner, which was quite interesting. The day before my flight I walked to the Pashupatinath Temple, it was quite an experience. I was swarmed by trinket sellers and guides right at the gate. The entire place smelled like death, literally and figuratively… there were homeless people who had parts of themselves rotted off, my guess is gangrene infected injuries. Nepalis, in my few weeks experience, didnt strike me as thieves, but all the same, I opted to keep my phone in my pocket to prevent a snatch and grab. Having gone this long without a theft, I opted to not temp fate. The temple is also a common place for cremation and the wind was blowing from the pyres to the walkway I was on. The smoke choked me and burned my eyes a little, but mostly, I was grossed out by the idea of what was creating the smoke I was now breathing. Like all of Nepal, the architecture was nice and you could feel the history around you. With the smell, the crowd and being hounded by desperate sellers, I just didn’t stay long. I was ready to leave Nepal, and in the morning, I would.
Technical
The shame, oh the shame. I was mistaken in my previous story when I had mentioned hiring a guide for a tour of old town… upon review of my notes, the guide was in Bhaktapur, that story has been edited and the information has been added to this story. My apologies.
I poked a little fun at the Kathmandu Aviation Museum. The truth is, the staff were friendly and doing their best, like many places, they are simply under funded.
With my illness and just how crowded the city was, I was hitting a mental wall and was glad to be leaving Nepal. I had a great time while there, and I think if I were to have stayed longer it would have been in my best interest to try to get into smaller surrounding towns or do another hike. For me, sitting around the city wears down on me quickly and the rough busses make exploration outside of the city a bit daunting. As I write this, I do miss Nepal, and have just texted my travel buddies to suggest we go back as I have just noticed I am missing a 500 rupee bank note that would complete my set… seems as good of an excuse as any to go back.
This is the final story of my Nepal series.. well of THIS Nepal series, maybe someday I’ll go back and have more to say. I did return after Thailand for a few days before flying home. It just worked out logistically to keep my original flights and fly round trip between Kathmandu and Thailand. All that is to say, Nepal was great, I highly recommend it… and next week I’ll have Part One of my Thailand adventure.
Posted in Photo Drop, Travel and tagged backpacking, bhaktapur, history, Kathmandu, nepal, Outdoors, travelwith 2 comments.
Nepal Notes Part 8: A Wild Tiger And A Life Changing Coin Toss
If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.
My two day motorcycle trip, part 7 of this saga, gave me a sufficient kick in the rump to get me moving. Despite still feeling the effects of my pneumonia, I was determined to get out of Pokhara, I had abruptly hit the wall for how long I could stay in that town. I had read about Chitwan National Park before my trip, but dismissed it under the assumption there wouldn’t be time, turns out there was time.
Chitwan National Park
The bus ride back to Kathmandu was 12 hours so I decided to break it up a bit by taking a detour to Chitwan National Park, its located south of and somewhat equidistant from Kathmandu and Pokhara. I was told the bus to Chitwan would be about 4 hours, it took 7.5. At the but station I was met by a man in a very rough pickup and taken to my hotel. It was hard to tell who was there to work and who was just a friend of the employees hanging out, nobody wore a uniform of any kind and everyone was just kind of hanging out. Also all of the men had short hair except for a small patch on the back left long, it was strange. It reminded me of my cousin who, in the 90s, had what we called “a rat tail”. I was fed a large, late, lunch and then was shown to my room. It was dated, dusty, and overall tired, but there were a lot of geckos around so that was nice, they look nice and keep the bugs down. Luckily they weren’t too noisy, sometimes geckos can make a barking noise that reminds me of a turkey yelp/cluck. With its thatched roof and wicker furniture, it reminded me of the budget hotels in Fiji. One strange thing that stood out to me at this hotel, the bed sheets only covered the top ¾ of the bed, meaning my feet were on bare mattress. It grossed me out, but I was so used to rough accommodation at that point, I just tucked the blanket under my feet. At about 4pm I was walked to a river front to take in the 630 sunset. We arrived at 415 in the blazing heat, after half an hour of standing on a concrete flood wall roasting in the sun, I decided to walk farther down the bank. At the end of the flood wall was a river front restaurant and beyond that were two locals riding elephants along the river. They saw me and wandered over, I took some pictures and patted one on the trunk. I had never seen an elephant up close like that. I wandered back to the restaurant and ordered a cold soda… it was now about 515… Finally, the sun set in a rather lackluster way and I was able to go back to the hotel. There were 4 other guests there, two couples and they said little more than hi to me.
Morning of day two I was crammed into a dugout canoe. I was sat near the back on a square stool with 2 inch legs and someone was place ahead of me, and someone ahead of them and so on until we were just shy of a dozen. It felt like a back massage chain, but sweatier. 3 canoes took off around the same time and we all floated down the shallow river, occasionally bottoming out right under me… I was still not feeling great about my weight, before this trip I had never considered myself in shape, but I also never thought I was overweight. I definitely put some pounds on after the divorce, I just never realized it was this bad. My more pressing consideration was that we were spotting crocodiles from a boat where the gunwales sat 6 inches above the water. It felt low to me, and apparently I would make a well marbled snack. Along the way we also spotted a wide variety of exotic birds include some beautiful teal coloured King Fishers. The boats brought us to a steep bank where we all piled off. I was fortunate that I was the only person my guide was taking on the jungle trek. We were able to see monkeys, spotted deer, barking deer, and in the distance some Rhino. I was surprised at how quiet my guide could walk the jungle, he seemed impressed with me too, all those years of hunting whitetail deer seemed to pay off for me. I was glad it was just the two of us, in my experience, very few people actually know how to be quiet. Our jungle trek ended at an elephant breeding center. I didn’t love the elephant center. Initially it was just elephants chained to posts under simple shelters, like a farmer’s pole shed. As I learned more, I found out the elephants were trained to be used for patrols in the park and were walked twice daily. It wasn’t a life too far off from some horses, but it still didn’t sit well with me.
In the afternoon I went on a jeep safari (I had the option of an elephant ride, and declined). I was loaded into the back with an American man, and a large, loud, Nepali family. We spotted a lot of wildlife but the preteen son kept trying to call the animals by yelling at them… It was a bit frustrating but also a bit funny. Our guide did his best to keep everyone quiet, and himself, used only a rock tapped against the metal bars on the jeep to communicate with the driver. It was a good system, were it not for my chatty companions. I also saw a wild peacock, and up until that moment, I had never thought about where they are native to, turns out they’re from Nepal and India area. They were just an animal that was around, like a loon in Canada. It was beautiful dark blue, high in a tree, and its long tail flowed gracefully as it jumped down and glided away. The jeep drove us to a Gharial hatching facility. It was about a dozen pools surrounded by chain link fence all full of little crocodiles. Its a good program, though not particularly photogenic. On our way out we passed some forest fires, at first it looked like small fires, but before long we were going fast down a dirt trail with flames on both sides and I thought I was at risk of losing eyebrow hair. It’s a strange feeling to be in nearly 40 degree heat and drive by a roaring fire, its like sticking your arm in the oven when its already just too hot outside.
At a military checkpoint, near the exit of the park, we crested a hill and saw, about 50 meters ahead, casually walking away, a tiger. The first thing that happened was the American grabbed the kid’s shoulder and pre-emptively hushed him. A much appreciated gesture. For about 15 seconds it walked down the dirt track without a care in the world, then turned left into the tall grass and wandered off into the wilderness. It looked thinner than I expected, to be honest, and its walk had more of a casual sway than the stealth walk my mind had imagined. It walked more like a domestic dog than a wild apex predator. Everyone in the jeep was glowing with excitement. The guide claimed he only has about 3 tiger sightings a year. I was skeptical about those numbers, he worked for tips and definitely wanted me to open my wallet a little farther, I did. When I got back to the hotel everyone there was exciting about it, wanted to hear the story, and made sure to remind me to mention it on my google review of the hotel. It was mentioned, along with the sheets.
The end of my action-packed day was to take in some cultural dancing in town. I was driven there in the box of a truck with a young couple that were a little better dressed than me. I was clearly in Nepal for the hiking, and they were there for the sights. It was a small theater with a broad stage and I was witness to some of the most impressive athletic dancing I had ever seen. In my youth I had witnessed Ukrainian dancing, French dancing, Powwow dancing, and breakdancing… none were quite on this level of both athleticism and team work. The first dance was a group of young men with staffs dancing and hammering them together, sometimes blind behind their heads, and doing it to make a melody. All I could imagine was a pinched finger. The ladies came on and did impressive dances with drums and twirls, then a man came on solo and spun fire in the dark. The fire spinning in the darkness with the hammering of drums felt like a trance, I was locked in and couldn’t look away. Towards the end there was a comical dance with two men, one dressed in traditional women’s attire who basically dodged the others romantic advances with twirls and jumps while the other tried to impress with dance moves, while closing the distance. Despite it not being in my original itinerary, I was glad to have made the trip south. I got some sleep, the next day was my bus to Kathmandu, and I could only imagine how long that would really take.
Back to Kathmandu
The 4-hour bus ride to Kathmandu was, naturally, about 8 hours. The American from the jeep tour was on the bus with me, we decided to share a cab from the bus to our hotels. While waiting for luggage to be unloaded, a woman beggar tapped my arm and held her hand out. I was in no mood and had been desensitized to beggars by this point. She kept stepping in front of me and tugging on my luggage and then giving me a blank stare with her hand out. Somehow that stare just felt entitled to me, like she expected me to pay a tax. Finally, as she was blocked me from getting to the taxi, I faked left and rolled right, just like I used to in my basketball days. The American said he thought I was being attacked by bugs, I guess my technique has rusted over the years. The cab driver scolded her and explained to us that she is always there and it pays her better than a normal job. Checking into Planet Nomad hostel was much smoother this time, I had texted the owner directly, a few days prior, and she just told me what room would be mine and to let myself in whenever I arrived, easy, peasy.
The following morning I started asking around about hiking Everest Basecamp. KTM airport was under construction and I was told I would have to take a 4-hour night-bus ride to a nearby airport then fly to Lukla. All in all it would cost me just over $2k USD, I could get it down a small amount without a guide, but not much. I thought about it for the day, I was still recovering from my pneumonia and had actually pulled a muscle in my chest causing some painful breathing. I didn’t have the heart for more frozen squat toilets and Nepali busses. I called my airline and asked about changing my flights to get home early, motorcycle fever still had me so I thought maybe I would buy a bike and tour around Canada. The customer service rep, without a laugh, told me to fly home early would cost me seven thousand dollars, the only available flights were first class. Naturally, I wasn’t about to do that. Natalie suggested I come to Thailand… over breakfast with her and some fellow travelers, I flipped a coin. Thailand it is. Within about an hour, I booked a round trip flight from Kathmandu to Thailand, it was cheaper than cancelling my flight home from Nepal. Natalie was headed to Thailand in a few days. Before she left, a bunch of us made friends with a Dutch girl and gave her all the hiking gear that we didn’t want to take with us on our next stop. Natalie gave her clothes, I gave her mitts, water tablets, and hiking poles. I burned a few days in Kathmandu, a few were spent just going for a walk to get food, much like Pokhara. Those days did make me feel a little guilty, like a fake traveler, hiding out in his hotel and venturing out to get western food. That said, one of the days I did wander to the old town part of Kathmandu, I took in a museum and the town square. It was called Durbar square, and I was mobbed by sellers and would-be tour guides, I also did some book shopping and found a few worth buying. In my wandering aimlessly about Thamel I also found an amazing burger place that sold buffalo burgers (water buffalo, not bison). In preparation for Thailand, I bought a cheap rubberized duffle bag and filled it with trinkets for my family as well as any gear I felt I wouldn’t need for the next leg of the trip. The hostel let me store it in their spare room. I put my information on a card in the top and plunked it in a dark corner, hoping I would see it again when I got back. My only real fear was losing my beloved sleeping bag, but I have a lot of trust in the Hostel owners and travelers dont usually steal as that just gives them more stuff to carry around. I had a few days before my flight to Thailand left, so I opted to have one more Nepal adventure, but that’s a story for next week.
Technical
There’s not much in this story for gear other than me being thankful I brought some shorts and my crocs. They came in very handy in the 30 to 40 degree Celsius (86f to 104f) heat.
The elephant breeding center was certainly a mixed bag of emotions, it felt cruel, but it was mostly just under funded. The animals appeared fed and in good health and this center did increase the elephant population, but it wasn’t a wild population so does it even count? The elephants were trained and used in anti poaching patrols so they were doing good. I suppose, like most things, its shades of grey rather than black and white.
The coin toss. I was debating toughing out Everest base camp, trying to get home early, or going to Thailand. I’m rarely one to gamble and usually only do anything AFTER a lot of research. It was out of character for me but a coin toss felt right and it ended up working out. I had a lot of fun in Thailand (you’ll see) and spending more time with Natalie, built our friendship and as a result, led to me gaining a few travel friends and ended up inspiring 3 trips so far and two more are in the planning stages, so I am calling that coin toss life changing in more of a butterfly effect kind of way.
Lastly, a bit of gloating or maybe therapy? I sometimes on this trip, on days I didn’t do much, felt a bit of a fraud. Like I wasn’t really having an adventure because anyone can fly to any country and just hide out in a hotel only venturing out for western style food… Upon writing and proof reading this story I realized that driving a jeep through an active forest fire in the jungle is barely a note, so maybe, just maybe… I should go a little easy on myself when I take a day or two off during a long trip. Also shoutout to my sister for telling me to be nicer to myself in my stories.
And if you ever find yourself in Kathmandu, I know a place for a good burger.
Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, Chitwan, nepal, Outdoors, Rhino, tiger, travelwith 2 comments.
Nepal Notes Part 7: Motorcycle Trip
If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here. As always, questions and feedback are always appreciated, as is sharing my stories with your friends.
Before my trip, I looked online and had found a motorcycle club called “Hearts and Tears” in Pokhara that did tours. I had motorcycle fever since my divorce, and had the foresight to get my International Drivers Permit before leaving. This was what I needed to get out of my rut. I had looked for the physical location before, but wasn’t able to find it. Some locals pointed me to where they thought I should look and all I found was closed garage doors in an alleyway. Rita, of all people, told me she had found it. She had gotten stoned at breakfast and gotten lost getting back to her hostel and came across it. She walked me over, it was right where I was told, this time they were open. I went in and talked to the main guide, Prabin. I told him I was after just a day trip to get a feel for the bike, a Royal Enfield Himalayan, because that’s what I was thinking of buying back home. He suggested an overnight trip because he knew an interesting hotel that was a fun drive to get to. I exchanged numbers with him and agreed to go in two days time.
That afternoon, Natalie finished the Annapurna Circuit and met up with all of us at the Juicery, she also introduced me to her friend Renata (keen readers will note that Natalie and Renata have come to visit me here in Alberta and I have gone to Guatemala with them).
I asked Natalie if she wanted to come with me. At first, she said she wasn’t particularly interested, but later changed her mind. She also suggested that since we were leaving early the next morning, that she should just sleep in my room on the spare bed. I worried briefly if this was another case of someone using me for my generosity and what little money I had, but she paid her fair share of everything as a matter of her own principles.
The Bike Trip
As though the good lord has a sense of humour, Rita left town that morning, unfortunately she did so with a book I had lent her that I never got a chance to read. There was also an odd introspective moment for me the night before. I had known Rita was leaving but didn’t get a chance to say goodbye in person, Natalie asked me if I was sad about that… and I really wasn’t. I was ready for her to leave and for me to get out of my rut. Natalie and I started our motorcycle trip and that morning was a real pivot for me on my trip, this is when my plans went out the window and I went off script. This is when I started to reflect, learn, and heal instead of pine and brood.
We met our guide at the shop, he was 15 minutes late, but called to let us know he was late. We had loaded our gear into my little fifteen-liter day pack and strapped it to the back of my bike, I then put my water bottle in the tank bag. Prabin gave me a quick primer on Nepali driving: don’t trust signal lights, honk as you pass, and try not to stop. With that, we were off. The first challenge was following Prabin, who had Natalie as a passenger, down the narrow alleyway from the shop then through heavy morning traffic on roads that to my understanding, have no rules and no maintenance. It was absolute white-knuckle chaos at first, but then I fell into a groove. It was actually a bit intuitive, it felt like walking in a crowded area. Everyone was constantly watching and weaving around each other. The only hazard was stopping and interrupting traffic flow. My “no rules” theory was, somewhat, confirmed when we crossed a double solid line to blaze by two cops on a motorcycle who did little more than glance at us. Eventually we broke free of the city into the winding country roads along the edges of the steep foothills of the Himalayas. The roads were a variety of gravel, fine dirt, cobblestone, tarmac, and pavement. Most were in a state of disrepair. Tight switchback turns were the norm, which created blind corners that buses liked to take wide, I got in the habit of riding on the far edge of the road, and still had some close calls.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside hotel and restaurant. The guide checked on the kitchen and then informed us they just made fresh Dal Baht. This was by far the best meal I had my entire trip. The chicken was crispy and spicy, but in a flavorful way. As we ate we watched music videos on the TV and Prabin translated the songs for us. Their music carried a much more wholesome atmosphere than what we seem to get in the west. Our next stop was the main draw of our trip, The Kushma suspension bridge. To my understanding it is the highest and longest in Nepal. I have a normal, healthy, fear of heights. I let the guide know, to which he replied “I can drive the bike across for you, if you like”. In this situation, despite the almost comical length of the bridge, my ego had more pull than my fears. I wasn’t going to let another man drive my bike across for me, especially in front of a girl. Yes, its that fragile. Prabin and Natalie crossed first, I was told to wait until they were all the way across before departing. When it came my turn, I took a deep breath and slowly released the clutch. Every cell in my body screamed in terror, but I wasn’t about to stop, and this was no place to lock up. I looked out at the valley and suddenly felt very high above the hand rails while seated on the bike. I had to make frequent stops and crowd to one side when pedestrians and I crossed paths. Somehow a motorcycle/pedestrian bridge felt like it shouldn’t exist, but I was the only one who seemed worried about it. The view was amazing, but staying upright on the slick steel bridge took all of my concentration as a novice rider. The crossing probably took less than a minute but felt like ten.
On the far side of the bridge, we took a few minutes to rest and have some water, I did my best to hide my frayed nerves. While crossing I had passed an older woman carrying a large sack of potatoes loaded on her back and held on with a strap across her forehead. Me being a taller blond man, I stand out as a foreigner, this always leads to conversations, and this was no exception. Using Prabin as a translator she asked all about us and told us she was a proud mother of 8 and walks this bridge daily. A tuk-tuk taxi came to pick her up, and without a word or hesitation, Prabin grabbed the potatoes and loaded them for her. I already respected Prabin, but this little gesture told me a lot about him.
Immediately after the bridge, the road was beautiful smooth tarmac lined by spaced conifer trees. It felt like we had briefly left the country, I felt I was back in the Alberta foothills. Nepal is normally shrubs and rough roads. The last leg of our days ride was a return to the familiar rough roads, and a few water crossings that found my foot pegs well under water… on a public road, shared with buses. The only other time I had seen a bus cross water was in Iceland, and it looked a little more purpose built than the busses here. Towards the end of the day, the weather started to turn, we got rained on for a few minutes then hit with wind, which caused the dust and dirt to stick to us. Then with little notice, we took a right up a steep hill to a gate, honked, and were let into a large, well manicured, yard with a beautiful mansion on the far side, opposite the gate. The yard was amazing, and as soon as we entered, even the weather got better. It was like magic.
We were introduced to the owner, Mick. He had worked in New York for years and had English better than mine. He told us the story of his hotel. His great grandfather, a colonel in the army, had built the huge house. Then, the family retained the property but moved away from it, for two generations it sat abandoned. Slowly it crumbled under the hard monsoon rains year after year. When Mick was ready to come home and retire, he restored it to a hotel. He replaced the roof and said the support beams, eroded by rain, had been cut so cleanly it looked like a saw had done it. The brick walls and dark wood furniture created an amazing atmosphere of old-world cozy relaxation.
We were shown to our room, a large room with two single beds and a fireplace. We had showers, got changed and relaxed on the front steps before supper. An old, decrepit, Land Rover in the back of the yard caught my eye. Mick said he belonged to his dad and he was going to fix it up someday.
For supper we were treated to barbequed chicken and a sweet desert. It was some sort of small donut like pastry, think donut hole or Timbit submerged in sweet syrup. I tried to thank our server in Nepali by saying “Dhanyabad” which came out close to “dandi-bad”. She gave a confused look, said something to Mick. Mick looked at me and said “she just asked if you were asking for Dal Bhat.” The table erupted with laughter as I tried to explain I was extremely full and was just trying to say thank you. I decided I best just stick to English. A testament to Nepalese hospitality, I do believe that woman probably would have whipped me up a batch if I were serious.
After supper we had long and fascinating conversation. It turns out Mick and Prabin had been friends for over a decade. The hotel was a regular stop on the way home for longer motorcycle trips that Prabin guides into Mustang and even Tibet. After a few drinks came the stories of rowdy Australians burning patio furniture and Americans making midnight beer runs into towns, that shut down at 4pm. They also told us of the time Prabin and a client got food poisoning on their way to Micks hotel. They were so sick they needed to go to the hospital but there was an election so travel was banned that day to prevent people voting multiple times. Mick was able to reach out to the local police and get a permission slip to travel, but only because it was a tourist that was sick.
It was a nice cultural experience to spend time with two locals giving their perspectives on politics and telling us the history of Nepal. Prabin told us he was a porter first, then a cook, and he saw how well the guides got paid so he learned English. He was a mountain guide for years but got injured and decided to switch to motorcycles, somehow, they are safer. I think that tells me more the dangers of mountains than the safety of bikes. The only flaw with the evening was treating myself to too many cups of milk tea. The caffeine and excitement meant I didn’t fall asleep until nearly 3am, I should have had the rum instead, but I had recently sworn off drinking.
The following morning, I found myself a little green around the gills and not wanting to stray too far from a washroom. The reality was we had to get moving, so I swallowed a fist full of diarrhea meds and hoped for the best. The rumble of single cylinder engine was not ideal, but the distraction of the road and sights was a great help. As we passed through small towns, kids rushed out to wave and get high fives from us on our passing bikes. It struck me as odd because bikes are very common even in small towns in Nepal, maybe kids just don’t have much else to entertain themselves. I started to partake in the drive-by high fives… until… I stuck my left hand out for an enthusiastic young boy. As my hand made contact, he grabbed it. I pulled my left hand away from him and my right, on the handle bar, also pulled in. The bike swerved hard towards a parked car. I leaned hard left and saved it, but it definitely put a scare in me. In that moment, I had a quick thought about how far away a hospital is from here and how just how rough those hospitals had looked. The thought of getting loaded in the box of a stranger pickup and hauled across these roads for a few hours to an underfunded hospital send a chill down my spine. I gave my head a shake and carried on.
We made a stop in the town of Baglung to see the Kalika Bhagwati Hindu Temple. We parked our bikes and Natalie and I made the walk in. It was a wide cobblestone path cut into the forest. At the end were rows of bells and large brick buildings with beautiful sculptures of animals. A local woman grabbed us and forced us to dance in a large group with her friends. I don’t think that was religious, I think she did that for entertainment purposes. We looked around a bit, made a donation and Natalie received a Tika (red dot on the forehead, I’m told it’s a blessing/ well wishes/ safe travels). I declined as I was worried it would smudge around in my helmet, I guess my loosening up has its limits.
To my dismay and my companions’ entertainment, our next stop was for lunch at The Cliff. It is a resort that caters to adrenaline junkies with bungee jumping, sky walks, cliff-side swings, and all other sorts of fear inducing antics at heights. The catch was that we had to cross, on foot, another very high, and very long suspension bridge to get to the restaurant. This bridge had bungee jumping in the middle. Prabin joked he would pay for my jump if I wanted to go… Some small part of me considered it, just to say I did. My hand over hand grip on the side rails of the bridge explains why I didn’t take him up on the offer. After lunch we made the short trip back to the club house. I was sad it was over. I wish I had planned a three- or five-day trip instead but, my back was sore and my wallet was draining like there was a hole in the bottom.
Since this trip my fear of heights has seemed to subside, Natalie and Renata visited me here in Alberta and we hiked Crypt lake and I had zero trouble with it, unlike when I did it 10 years ago and was white knuckling the cables and crawling up the rocks. When I told my therapist I was going to Nepal and was going to have to face my fear of heights, she tried to explain to me that I don’t have to face all my fears. She told me its perfectly OK to just avoid things you are afraid of, and I just couldn’t help but disagree with her on that one point. I think I needed to face that fear, I think I need to face a lot of fears. One by one, I am working on them.
After getting back to Pokhara, I decided it was time, I had to get moving. I had planned on only spending a few days in Pokhara and then doing the Everest basecamp hike, I had, instead, spent nearly two weeks in a depressed confusing spiral of self discovery, all while on the mend for my pneumonia, which I still didn’t feel fully recovered from. I had to leave. I had to do something. It was time to get back to Kathmandu and get my trip back on track.
Technical
The motorcycle rental agency is called Hearts and Tears and if I ever win the lottery I will use that money to go on each and every trip they offer. Don’t tell my mom, but I am currently saving my pennies for their trip into Tibet, so if anyone wants to donate money to that cause… I am kidding, give money to charity, not people going on vacation.
The bike I rented was a Royal Enfield Himalayan 411cc. I did try to buy one when I got home, but the dealership in Vancouver that had them in stock was an absolute nightmare to deal with so I ended up buying a used Interceptor 650, lots of photos in my story here. It ended up being a smarter purchase, despite my soft spot for the Himalayan, it suffers from a lack of power that makes it less than ideal for the amount of highways we have here in Canada. That said, Royal Enfield Himalayans will always have a special place in my heart and someday when I spot a cheap one on the used market, it’ll be coming home with me.
In the first photos you can see some older style bikes, Prabin had told me they used to run the 500s before the Himalayan went onto the market, they just dont hold up as well as the purpose built adventure bikes. He did offer to rent me one of the bullet 500s to take a drive around town, in hindsight I regret declining the offer, but I am a far better rider now than I was then, so it was probably smart to decline.
I did bring my gopro on the trip, but I am inexperienced with it and its a less user friendly older model. As a result the footage is not great, I have it on Youtube here. If you jump to 4:42 you can see the bridge crossing, and at 2:00 you can see one of my close calls with a bus on a switchback.
If you want to get a better idea of what riding in Nepal looks like, there is an organization called Rally For Rangers. It is a charity where individuals buy motorcycles and then drive them to be donated to park rangers around the world. I actually saw them in Kathmandu towards the end of my trip but I didnt connect the dots on who or what they were until I watched a documentary about them on Amazon Prime. I found the trailer for it on Youtube, I highly recommend it, its an interesting watch.
Posted in Motorcycle, Photo Drop, Travel and tagged adventure, Adventure riding, motorbike, motorcycle, nepal, Royal enfield, travelwith no comments yet.
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.
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!
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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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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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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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Photo Drop Part 3 (Fishin’ Buddy and An Old Hiking Photo)
Hey, this week I was camping in Jasper so I didn’t get much time, or internet access, to write a post for this week. I don’t want to leave my faithful readers high and dry (I can’t risk losing all 6 of you). So here’s a few old photos that just never could find their way into a story but I still feel merit some exposure to the world.
It’s Important To Have A Fishing Buddy
Everyone who knows me has likely met my dad and his dog, Rose. She goes with him everywhere, that includes hunting and fishing. This picture more or less sums up every fishing experience they’ve had: my dad catches a fish, and gets Rose to inspect it thoroughly before he throws it back… every single time. Believe me when I tell you that Rose is a fishing fanatic, you can’t hold a fishing rod in that boat without hearing her bark and squeal with excitement, its a bit annoying, but at the same time anyone who fishes can understand her excitement.
Carefully Stacked Rocks Work Almost As Well As A Camera Tripod
Shortly after Erin and I got back from our big New Zealand Trip, in 2011, we had started to do a lot more hiking. If I recall one of our first day hikes was up Bald Hills in Jasper National park. It was a nice hike, but nothing worth writing a long story about, so here’s the highlights. We hiked through some beautiful trees, then up a steep hill and used my cameras timer to take this photo of us next an inukshuk we found and added a few rocks to (I had to Google the proper spelling of inukshuk). We then hiked to the top where the winds were amazingly strong, then we hiked a little way down, had lunch, and then found our way back to the car. I highly recommend this hike.
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