Wednesday, August 31, 2005
this time next week...
It's been hard to convince myself that this trip is actually happening. Somehow it just feels utterly surreal. I suppose it's like that for most trips though - being so used to a routine makes such a drastic deviation from it seem the realm of fantasy.
Today I picked up my plane ticket from Travel Cuts. Holding it in my hands and looking at that red carbon paper does help to bring the whole concept into reality. Tomorrow I will pack my remaining belongings into my backpack and get rid of the rest of my lingering odds and ends. That will help too.
I was thinking on my ride home tonight about how so far my biggest adventures seem to work out differently than expected. When I was a student, I thought about going on exchange to New Zealand. Then suddenly the opportunity to go to Portugal instead just fell into my lap, so I took it. This time I was going to go to Bolivia. I learned about Intiwarayassi from a co-worker at Mount Seymour and decided I would go in September. But then, out of the blue came the opportunity to be paid to go to Australia (paid in exchange for work, but paid nonetheless). So here I go. I wonder what adventure I will Not end up having next!
I came home tonight to find my roommate was having a party. Apparently one of his guests has consumed a little too much CH3CH2OH. About every 20 minutes since I got home, I've heard him stumbling across the kitchen then emitting unpleasant sounds from the bathroom. I just don't understand the fun in that. But anyhow.. everyone else seems to have things under control.
Well I guess I'm just rambling now. In fact this whole thing was about rambling. I'll stop now.
I'm going to try to cut down on the length of these posts.. really.
ooh that one sounded especially nasty.
-kat
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
a road trip.
two girls. a small car. and the open road..
day 1
-----
we were to leave as soon as brenda finished work sometime in the afternoon. I spent the morning carefully packing my belongings. ha. no. I spent almost the whole day writing up my last blog entry, describing an arduous journey in the Chilcotins. when Brenda sent me the message that she was leaving to come pick me up (in 15-20 minutes), it was a mad scramble to locate clothing, musical devices, camping necessities and other assorted items and assemble them for travel.
she pulled up in a black echo hatchback and did a beautiful job of parallel parking, followed by an amazing job of packing Everything into the teeny tiny trunk. meanwhile I sliced up the melon that would otherwise decay in my fridge -- and we were off!
a quick stop in Delta to pick up some special hot sauce and a tim horton's mug for Brenda's aunt, and before we knew it, we were at the border. given that we wore no bandanas, we zipped through the truck crossing without any hassles and proceeded on our merry way down the good ol' I5. even in Seattle we were lucky enough to hit only minimal delays, though the express lanes were going in the opposite direction. we took a quick dinner stop somewhere around Tacoma (mmm pizza hut and taco bell), and finally stopped for some gas about 300 miles from Vancouver.
when we pulled up to my Aunt Barb and Uncle Steve's place, it was before 11pm. cousin Marah greeted us at the door and pointed out a small dish of deelicious peach/plum cobbler that awaited our arrival. Brenda and I being completely exhausted, we quickly found our way to our already laid out beds and were soon fast asleep.
day 2
-----
after an unfortunately short visit with the Wilsons, we packed up again to set out for a fabulous breakfast at Grandma Dorothy's. again, we were greeted by a welcoming sight: three fresh miniature bouquets marked our places at the table and a feast of coffee cake, a mystery egg dish, and tasty berries were laid before us. we had a good visit then bade Lake Oswego adieu as we headed into the heart of Portland.
we cruised awhile for parking then opted for a parkade near the University with meters. meters that required change. with quarters still at the top of the change hierarchy (no loonies or toonies there), this meant a Lot of change. we finally found some at a nearby bank. first stop was the market on park st(?). and what a good first stop it was! we bought 6 delicious cookies, a quiche with some fillings that appealed to brenda, a bread stuffed with veggies and seasonings, a raspberry cream tart, kalamata olive cheddar cheese, and heavenly thai pesto made with coconut milk. Though we ogled many more items, we felt that should suffice, and a fine picnic in the sunshine ensued.
our next event was vegetable racing. Brenda selected a stunning eggplant fitted with wooden wheels, while I opted for the holy potato, though a carrotmobile was also under consideration. little did I know, I raced my potato backwards, resulting in a complete failure in steering and a crushing defeat by the eggplant. though really, I would call it a draw, as neither reached the finish line. on the second attempt, the potato went headfirst and had better luck, though it was still unable to overcome the power of the eggplant. [you might understand this paragraph a little better if you look at the pictures.]
our tour of the city continued via the library, where we had a quick visit with Beverly and were given a full history by a woman who saw us reading the stairs. not having had enough of books, we carried on to Powell's where Brenda found a way to express her love for meat and a box which guaranteed to improve her memory. we then decided to look for the World's Smallest Park, but realized en route that our meter was about to expire. We hopped a streetcar and hurried back to the car, arriving 3 minutes after a $15 parking ticket had been issued.
disappointed that we failed to reach the park, of whose location we were still uncertain, we detoured along Naito Parkway on our way up to the rose gardens. as luck would have it, not only did we manage to spot the park as we drove by, Brenda even managed to snap a perfect photo. I don't think there were cacti the last time I saw the park, back in April.
when we had our fill of smelling the roses, we took the scenic route (entirely on purpose, of course) to Brenda's aunt's place for a BBQ. mmm we had the best pork steaks I believe I have ever eaten - come to think of it, this trip was loaded with delicious food.
though we had considered stopping to camp in the mountains, we instead decided to go all the way to Sisters that night. when we pulled up to Aunt Kit's place on Willow Lane, the guest house was warmly illuminated and awaiting our arrival. there were even fancy chocolates on a little dish like in a luxury hotel. it was a perfect ending to a great day.
day 3
-----
after a long sleep and a leisurely morning, brenda and I mounted two of the assorted bicycles discovered in the garage - I chose a charming old road bike with a big basket at its front and a merry bell while brenda selected the hardier-looking black mountain bike which still bore its $15 price tag. we pedalled into Sisters and met up with Aunt Kit at the Depot Deli for a tasty lunch followed by a tour of the town. our most bargain-filled stop was definitely the thrift store, where brenda found hours of entertainment in a box for a dime and we both found lovely new hats for no cost at all! not to mention brenda's handsome new chia head.
in the afternoon, we took those bikes where they had never been before. our plan was to follow the "sisters tie" bike trail, but the 2-inch deep loose dusty earth proved more than a challenge on road tires. luckily, a quiet dirt road lay beside us, so we took it instead and were treated to spotting two groups of deer. on our way back along indian ford road, we stopped in for a moment of nostalgia at the old Sisters house that brought back many happy memories of childhood. with 4 miles to go before supper, we were lucky to encounter Clay's red jeep - he stopped to throw our bikes in the back and we climbed in for a speedy ride home.
dinner consisted of tasty mexican tamales made by an eccentric, pregnant, mexican woman; fantastically flavourful "green rice", a kit specialty; and a few other yummy things I can't seem to recall at the moment. we concluded the day chatting and being bathed with a slobber-infused ladybug by Lula the puppy.
day 4
-----
there were so many options, it was hard to decide what to do. the first choice was, of course, easy: we would go with Kit to the bakery for breakfast. the bakery we selected was on the main street (not Main St but the main street), and filled with the biggest donuts I have ever seen.
unfortunately, brenda and I were both disappointed by the utter lack of raspberry in our raspberry turnovers (they were cherry), but still it was far from being a bad choice of eateries. the difficult decisions came later, when we parted ways with Aunt Kit to go off on the day's adventure. In the end we opted for 3 stops: the "skylight cave" we discovered in the info centre, Dee Wright observatory, and a short hike to a swimming spot at Tenas Lakes.
We found the cave without much trouble and descended the ladder as described in a type-written brochure. We then turned to the right, hoping to make it to the part of the cave "From which it derives its name" despite our lack of flashlights. Well, it just seemed to get darker and darker. After stumbling down a little way and assessing the route with the help of the flashes on our digital cameras, we decided we could go no further and turned back, a wee bit disappointed. We then tried going the other direction from the ladder and saw the glow from shafts of daylight ahead. It was then that we discovered the large cavern whose roof was pierced by three skylights, through which warm beams of brilliant sunshine lit the underworld.
the hike to the lakes was pretty, and the route lined by miniature red huckleberry bushes. The miniature variety of these juicy little berries was much sweeter than the relatively giant coastal variety we find here in BC.
unfortunately, huckleberries were not the only snacks we had en route. we also made the mistake of cracking open the "Hot Mama" individually-packaged, king-sized pickle that we had purchased from the grocery store in town. The package contents were described as "one SASSY pickle" - a pickle that was at least 9 inches long and 2 in diameter. when they say "Hot Mama", they mean HOT Mama! as we sat overlooking benson lake, taking successively smaller bites from our pickle halves, we sniffled as our sinusses were excavated and our throats burned. we congratulated ourselves when the pickle was completed and continued on our way.
whoever it was that said the water was the perfect temperature was right. Tenas Lakes brought back memories of last summer's trip to Cabin Lake in North Vancouver - the lake was similarly idyllic (and less crowded), but the hike was prettier. It would have been a nice place to set up a tent for a night - and indeed, at least one party had done just that. But we had not planned for a campout and in fact were expected for dinner, and the day was quickly drawing to a close. We hurried down to the car and back in the direction of Sisters.
although it was getting late, we did not want to miss out on a stop at the observatory overlooking a moonscape of lava fields that I'm told was a favourite stopping point of my father's. we took some pictures of the lava and surrounding peaks, easily identified through small windows in the observatory walls.
dinner was of course delicious again - this time we had grilled salmon, phat thai, a mandarin-orangey salad and berries for dessert. we completed the evening with a four-player game of "ticket to ride", which I had been so eager to try since Brenda first bought it.
day 5
-----
I was afraid we had missed our final visit with Aunt Kit entirely. we found her baskets displaying colourful vegetables at the fair, but the girl who was selling them looked at me blankly when I inquired as to the whereabouts of my aunt. after a thorough search accompanied by lively music from the band, we concluded that Kit was not to be found and decided to try back at the house we had just left a short time before. sure enough, we found her there and the three of us ordered some last-minute pancakes (they are not normally served after 11) which awaited us when we arrived at the Depot Deli.
on the road again. The drive took us through the spartan beauty of the high desert landscape. Flat-topped and painted hills gave way to endless golden yellow fields as we approached the Washington border. we hurried to make it to Mary Hill in time to tour the mansion-turned-museum before it closed. I learned that Samuel Hill constructed the Peace Arch. we visited his concrete Stonehenge replica, built as a war memorial at a time when Stonehenge was thought to be used in sacrificial rituals.
when we reached Yakima, we both agreed it was time for dinner. we cruised around and happened upon an authentic mexican restaurant housed in an old auto repair shop (or so the garage doors led us to believe). I guess it was the decor that attracted us first - two picnic tables with fake grass umbrellas out front looked inviting, and inside the tables were covered with fish-pattern fabric. suspended from the ceiling was a big fishing net with assorted sea-themed items embedded in it. it was a bit concerning that no one else was there, or to be seen in the environs at all. we stepped up to what looked like a large hotdog stand at the front and puzzled for a few moments over the entirely spanish menu before asking the somewhat dazed-looking man behind it to interpret for us. he came around and slowly read through the items in broken english, seeming to sometimes use the spanish word without realizing it. luckily, we could figure out what things like 'grande' meant on our own. eventually, brenda settled upon something involving octopus, shrimp, and crab (beyond those ingredients, she had no idea what form the dish would take), and I opted for the safer-sounding snapper 'a la planche'. our waitress had been talking on the phone (in spanish) from the minute we arrived and didn't stop when we sat down inside, nor when we moved out to the cooler picnic tables, nor when she came by to pour us some water and give us some napkins. in fact, she talked on the phone right up until the moment she left around the middle of our meal, leaving our chef solely in charge. turns out the food was very tasty - brenda's dish was a kind of spicy soup and my fried snapper came with rice, beans, and tortillas to wrap it all up in.
dusk was approaching. the moon shining over the hills was picture-perfect. so we pulled into a viewpoint. the problem was, the viewpoint was on the wrong side of the hill. we decided to climb it, but by the time we got to the top, darkness obscured the beauty. oh well.
we needed a place to camp for the night. our first attempt was down a road off the highway, but we found it to be too open, and fenced on both sides. we decided our best bet was in Wenatchee national forest. we found a forest service campsite with a self-service pay station. $13 seemed a little steep, especially when we drove in and found that the only available sites were right next to the highway and one seemed to be claimed by a portable satellite dish. we decided to take our chances with the next one. but then we had a better idea. we turned off onto a forest road and that is where we found a perfect little spot, free of charge.
day 6
-----
our big stop on the last day of our trip was in Leavenworth. Though I had never heard of it before, Brenda had chanced upon this place on an earlier road trip, so we were not surprised to come upon this bustling Bavarian tourist town nestled in the North Cascades. like Chemainus, leavenworth is one those little old towns that faced extinction when the single industry that drove its economy shut down. but rather than accept that fate, the residents decided to bring in tourist dollars instead. in leavenworth's case, someone thought it was a good idea to go German. the streets were labelled "strasse", the architecture is a cheesy Bavarian style, and yes, we did see men in leiderhosen. for lunch, Brenda ate spaetzle and I had some-kinda-wurst (I forget which one I chose) with weinkraut and german potato salad. we roamed around a number of tourist-geared shops, most of which were surprisingly un-german (the russian and australian gift shops spring to mind). it was a strange sort of plastic culture jumble. finally we topped off our visit with a stop at "Cold Stone", where you choose a flavour of ice cream and any number of ingredients you would like to have mixed in on cold marble slabs. brenda opted for coconut ice cream with heath bar chunks and rainbow sprinkles, while I went with strawberry with more strawberries and a brownie mixed in. mighty tasty.
after seeing the signs on the highway, we had to visit one of Washington's famous rest areas to check out the free coffee. as neither of us is much of a coffee drinker, and the temperature must have been high in the twenties (not sure what that is in fahrenheit), we were excited to find that there were also free juice and cookies. well, pseudo-juice sugar water anyhow.
again wearing no bandanas (that's the key, I tell you!), we breezed through the border crossing soon converted our thinking back to kilometres. and now we are home again.
a few pictures can be found in my gallery.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
South Chilcotins Trek
You've seen the pictures... now you want the story behind them.
The plan was ambitious, to say the least: an AVERAGE of 35km/day over 4 days. My jaw dropped when I first learned of this plan, especially since I thought this was to be a bush-whacking trip. But Scott soon assured me that we would be following marked routes and trails, which he pointed out on a very respectable- and offical-looking map. Besides that, based on the pictures from his previous trip, it looked like we were headed for open territory, easy to traverse even without a trail: (scott's pictures). So, quite happily (though with the teeeeniest twinge of trepidation), I agreed that this was a fabulous idea.
Fate seemed to be ruling against this adventure from the beginning. First off, when I hiked the Juan de Fuca trail the week before (http://gallery.antiflux.org/thekat-JuanDeFuca-2005), I found a gaping tear in one of the seams at the back of my 10-year-old backpack (actually, it was a mouse who found it first and used it to steal some oatmeal and trailmix). But that was ok: I had a full day off the day before we were to leave for the Chilcotins - I would use that day to shop for a new pack and get ready to go. What I didn't account for was the bug.
The bug remains to this day a bit of a mystery. Perhaps it resulted from a missing O-ring in one of our water filters. Perhaps it was a virus. Perhaps it came from food. Whatever it was, it hit Ken while we were on the Juan de Fuca, forced Kit and my mom to their beds two days after the trip, and caught up with me the day I intended to prepare for the Chilcotin trip. Thus, instead of merrily dispensing of dollars at MEC, Tuesday found me struggling to make my way home from the ferry terminal (I had been in Nanaimo) without expunging the contents of my gut on a bus or Robson Street. Once home, after fully emptying my digestive tract from one end to the other, I spent the entire day and night in my bed, hoping that, like the others, I would feel better the next day.
This brings us to Wednesday morning, the day we were to depart. I awoke feeling relatively lively and full of optimism. I pedalled to MEC, but found I had been over-eager and had to wait with the small crowd outside until the doors opened at 10am. I strode confidentally to the backpack section and a saleswoman helped me to fit 2 packs: an Arcteryx Bora 75 and a Gregory Electra. Both felt good. Both had nice features. I continued to agonize over my decision while I found some water-friendly shoes (an alternative to sandals), picked up some dehydrated food, and had my knife oiled and sharpened by my favourite bearded MEC employee. When Scott called me again around noon, I was still in the store, my stomach still completely empty (I was still afraid to consume anything, especially since I was not at home), but I had finally decided upon the Arcteryx.
By the time I got back home, I was ravenous. Hoping for the best, I ate a half cup of applesauce, then waited. After about 20 minutes, when no violent reaction seemed to take place, my confidence increased, and I had some more. As I packed, I proceeded to test my reaction to some chicken noodle soup, 2 pickles, some melon, and various other scraps of food. By the time Scott arrived to pick me up, I was confident that the bug had been banished, and so we set out happily on our adventure.
The "summer use only" road leading to Gold Bridge from Pemberton gave Dima's car (which he had so kindly lent us for the trip) a few rough jolts. It was dark by the time we pulled into the forest recreation site on Mowson Pond where we set up camp for the night, a short distance away from our chosen trailhead.
[and finally, we make it to the actual start of the hike!]
Day 1
=====
Our adventure began somewhere near Gun Creek, or was it Eldorado creek? I don't have a copy of the map. Anyhow, after getting past a very high-tech gate by lifting up a small log, we started up the road. We past a trail that branched off to the right. We continued climbing up the road. Eventually (maybe 10 minutes later), Scott pulled out the map and GPS to check on our location. Apparently we were supposed to take that trail that went off to the right. Instead of backtracking, we decided just to head due south - a few minor scrapes and many pebbles in the boots ensued as we quickly dropped down to the trail, our little detour behind us.
As we followed the trail for the first 12km or so, the going was easy. We were in shade. The terrain was mostly flat. The trail was wide and obvious. I felt that I could continue in such conditions almost indefinitely.
It was when we stopped by Eldorado Creek for a snack that we encountered the first of our foes - bugs. Mosquitoes and cabin flies to be precise. I tried sitting down to rest but found that I was able to spend less time swatting if I moved around while I ate. We were happy to reshoulder our packs and continue on our way.
When we came to the general area where the "route" on the map diverged from the trail, we watched carefully for any sign of a path leading off to our left. With Scott ahead of me, I noticed the faintest hint of a what might be a trail leading out of a little clearing - after finding nothing else promising, we came back to this and followed it a short distance to find that it quickly developed into a dusty trail winding off through the woods.
Though it had more ups and downs and a few more fallen logs to hop over, we were happy to find that the route seemed well-travelled (mostly on horseback, it seemed), and that it was quite distinct. Blazes oozing yellow sap marked the trees along the sides. Speaking of blazes, the sun was beating down with increasing intensity as we ascended among the dry and dusty pines. Sweating my weary way up a hillside, I started to wonder how many kilometers we had yet to go. What a relief it was to stop for lunch looking out over a beautiful valley, listening to a stream roar down through rocks, with a touch of a cool breeze delighting us by its presence. While I ate my bagel with cheese, I found that if I continuously swept my free arm back and forth over any exposed skin (as a horse might swish its tail), I was able to keep the swarms of bugs at bay.
I'm not sure exactly where it happened.. it happened in a gradual way so that you never were entirely convinced that it had happened.. but
somewhere on a scree slope or maybe in a marshy patch, the route which had once been so clear and well-trodden eluded us altogether. For a while, we would continue to find occasional bits of flagging tape when we scoured the edges of the next clump of trees, and these would lead us a few steps down the route, but then we would emerge to the open again, or find ourselves no longer on the route, but on a moose's trail that would vanish to no particular destination. Instead of pushing steadily along, we now found ourselves pausing, hesitating, trying one route then another, and our progress slowed as the sun shone on. We started to push through patches of thick brush and dry branches. The whip of a branch on a shin produced a searing pain as a red scratch appeared. I tried wearing my sunglasses to protect my eyes from spruce boughs, but the dappled light reflected inwards and made it difficult to see. We tried going up and picking our way across large scree and boulder fields, but the going was slow. We tried going down where it was flatter and there were frequent animal trails, but it was marshy and riddled with dense clumps of sharp-branched knee- to shoulder-high shrubs. The day wore on, and the thick bugs continued to make stopping far from restful. I struggled to keep up with Scott as he wove his way along - if I were to make the slightest pause, the trembling of branches to the right or left would be my only clue as to which way he disappeared.
Exhausted, aching, hot, hungry, and with dusk fast-approaching, we stopped in a little clearing in a clump of woods where the ground was not marshy and the slope not too steep and a source of water available, and made our camp. We were 5km short of our intended destination of Leckie Lake, after 11.5 hours on the "trail". The car was 35km behind us.
Day 2
=====
Bushwhacking is much easier and less painful with a little practice. And when it is not unexpected. I felt a bit like a moose or a deer gracefully making my way up the valley in the relative cool of the morning. As we approached the lakes, the country became more and more open and we were treated to beautiful vistas in every direction. A boulder balanced at the edge of a distant precipice. The clear sparkling blue Leckie Creek burbled merrily down the valley. Bold granite boulders punctuated meadows of wildflowers. And up by the lakes, a strong breeze kept bothersome bugs away. As we basked, smiling, in the sunshine, it felt as though all of our hardships, now behind us, had been worthwhile.
On our way up to our first pass, traversing a broad green hillside, Scott spied a large grizzly rooting around a fair distance above us. We moved a little closer up towards him to get some pictures (still at a very respectable distance), and spent a couple of minutes watching him in awe before he spotted us and galumphed away into the safety of the bushes above.
At the pass, we stopped for lunch and gazed out at the broad valleys and peaks stretching ahead. Our plan from here was to drop down into the valley, meet up with a trail, and follow it over another pass and on, around through the valley, near the end of which we would camp for the night. Before reaching the trail, we would have to cross a creek, which we hoped would not be too difficult.
Well, everything started out as planned. The descent to the creek was easy and the beauty of our surroundings was stunning. Crossing the
(at most) knee-high creek in sandals and shoes felt wonderful on our battered legs. After a short break on the other side, we climbed up and followed a narrow horse trail up to the next pass. As we descended again into the next valley, Scott pointed out a line of forest cutting down the hillside and mentioned that we ought to make sure we stick to the trail once we reach it since that would surely be easier than bushwhacking. I heartily agreed.
The problem with sticking to a trail (a trail clearly marked as a "minor trail" - the step between "route" and "major trail"), is that a trail must exist to be stuck to. We began by following what Seemed like a trail, but
it soon vanished completely. The terrain was still open though, so we carried on, keeping our eyes open for the path, as clumps of trees loomed. Well, I think that, what with all this foreshadowing and all, you know what happens next. We found no trail, the bush came on, and it was day 1 all over again, only worse. Worse why? Because the ground was steep, the bush was denser, we were more tired, and worst of all, we had expected easy going. And the bugs were relentless.
We felt that we should stay quite high on the slope since we still had hopes of finding the mythical trail and furthermore the valley would be swampy. Frustrated and angry at the uncooperativeness of the land, we pushed on. I began to despair as we moved farther into what seemed like an increasingly impenetrable and hostile place (despite the still beautiful views), wondering how I would ever make it back out to the car in the next 2 days, knowing that each difficult and painful step was only making it farther away. And still I couldn't rest because of the bugs and Scott kept disappearing ahead of me and it was so hot and each branch that brushed my legs brought renewed pain to the scrapes it touched and my feet were blistered and sore and I felt like a wimp for all these despairing
thoughts and... ARGH!
We slowed our pace a little and pushed on and eventually my spirits improved enough that I could laugh at our predicament instead of cry.
When we hit upon a broad stream channel which afforded us a view up to the peaks above us and down to the valley bottom far below, we stopped to consider our options. We could go up.. up to the top, where there were no trees.. but the climb would probably take 2 hours. Or we could go down to where the trees might be a little bigger, the ground a little flatter, and where we might manage to find a campsite.
We opted to go down, and came across a pretty little clearing with a relatively flat place that looked just right for the Hubba Hubba. Scott discovered a water supply nearby and so we decided that this was indeed
to be our home for the night. We set up the tent and went inside to escape the bugs and consider our plan for the rest of the trip.
Days 3 and 4
============
Rested and refreshed, we decided that we dared to proceed towards Warner Pass, but that we would not worry about finding the trail and instead take a shortcut to get there. The thought of retreating to the previous pass and taking the known trail from there back towards the car was entirely
unappealing.
As it turned out, going down the slope had been a good choice. An excellent choice. It may have helped that we were going around to the drier side of the mountain too, but suddenly we found that the going was easy. The trees got bigger and farther apart. The ground was flatter. Choosing a route was easy (most of the time). And our surroundings were becoming more and more beautiful. We made it to the top of Warner Pass by lunch time.
From here on, there is little to relate (which is good, since I've been at this for far too long). From the top of Warner, a clear trail led our way down to turquoise lakes and wildflower meadows. We took a highly refreshing dip in Warner Lake. We camped at the next lake where there was a picnic table, a fire ring, and even a rustic outhouse. In the morning as we gazed out over the calm lake sipping our tea, we saw what looked like a black dog but must have been a wolf running along the opposite bank. Hiking through wildflower meadows dotted with groves of white birch trees, I can't begin to describe how wonderful it was.
Day 4 was a long day at 28km. When we finally spotted the gate and the car, both Scott and I burst into a run. Altogether, we covered 35 + 21 + 21 + 28 = 105km in 4 days. At least 15-20km of that was hard bushwhacking. We learned many lessons: don't make the first day too hard; don't count on trails merely because they appear on a map; don't tell Scott you want a challenging trip :). All in all, though, we had a wonderful time, as the photos will attest (of course there are very few photos taken during the rough spots). I would highly recommend the
Chilcotin as a hiking destination.
happy trails!
kat
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if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
Picture update!
South Chilcotin hiking/bushwhacking/flyswatting trip: http://gallery.antiflux.org/thekat-Chilcotin-2005
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