Home again

Coming home at the end of an adventure is always fraught with mixed feelings, and given that I usually struggle to readjust to my weekday life after a weekend's hiking in the mountains, my first full day at home following 6 months of adventure is proving tricky.
I feel sad, lazy, relieved, exhausted, dispirited and selfish. The jetlag is giving me a horrible tiredness behind my eyes.
On my flight back, I was excited to get on with all kinds of things - I even made a big long list! But I can't really be bothered with any of it yet. I know I'm prone to wallowing in self-pity, but I also know that I'll come out the other side of my wallow with an abundance of enthusiasm for whatever it is I decide to do next.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share a few things I learned on my trip, in no particular order...

1. I keep waiting to grow up and become an adult. I have decided that my idea of an adult (someone who is in control of their own destiny, content with their choices and knows their purpose in life) is a child's idea of an adult, which is a lie. I have sort of known this for some time - I remember lamenting my failed entry to adulthood when I turned 21 - but now that I'm 26, I think I have to start accepting it. I'm not yet sure about how I feel about the fact that I'm never going to grow up.
Incidentally, my Dad has tried to impart his knowledge on the matter for some years, but I guess there are some things you need to find out the hard way.

2. Going on an adventure is a scary thought. Being on an adventure is not.

3. Whilst you're adventuring, the thought of coming home is scary. Being home is not scary.

4. There are a lot of problems with the world, which means there are too many good causes to fight for! How does one decide whether to be a philanthropist or environmentalist, whether to fight for social justice, human rights or prevention of animal cruelty, whether to join a cause or start one, whether to use your time or your money to do so? Objectively, I think that the choice of cause, the method and scale of impact are all irrelevant, as long as you're doing something to change the world for the better. Having said that, I know I'm probably going to spend a lifetime trying to chose the 'right' path for myself. Who knew that being a good person was such a selfish thing to do? (Probably Dawkins and a bunch of other philosophers.)

5. My experience has been that most people are good, caring, lovely people who will go out of their way to help you if they can. I think the reason that there are so many people in the world who need help but aren't getting it because there are so many of them! If you know that one person needs your help, you can give it; if there's a queue of a thousand on your doorstep, you are more likely to turn a blind eye because the scale of the problem is too overwhelming.

6. Travelling gives you perspective. The world is as big or as small as you make it for yourself and you can think of your own achievements and experiences as important or insignificant because they are both.

7. You don't realise that you've learned anything at all on your travels until your adventure is over. 

8. You can do whatever you want to do if you put your mind to it. And you definitely should!

9. I resisted the urge to stretch this list out to ten items but have yet to figure out the significance of that fact.

Referendum

We spent a fun evening in the lounge of our rental flat with beer and pizza in front of the live Canadian news coverage of the Scottish referendum. Thankfully the UK remains united! A yes vote would have guaranteed a fun shake-up of British politics, but hopefully there will still be some positive changes following the no vote...

Rockies to Calgary

Today we went for a short guided walk in the morning to see the Larch Valley near Moraine Lake. The larch trees are all a gorgeous vivid yellow - they're the only 'evergreen' tree to loose its leaves in winter. It was a bit drizzly but a lovely walk and our last look at the mountains before driving to Calgary for the last few days of the trip!

Waterfall day

On our last full day, we did a hike from Takakka Falls, not far from our cabin. The falls are the second highest in Canada and very impressive - a torrent of water tumbling down a barren rock face, fed from a glacier above.

After a good view of Takakka, we headed up the valley, following Yoho River upstream. It was a gorgeous woodland walk and we stopped at waterfall viewpoints along the way. In such a small valley, there was a lot of variety in the waterfalls! Some were spilling over rock faces, others carving gorges and one making a watery stairway.

Lake Louise

Canoe and hike

We thought we'd have an easy day to rest our legs, so went to Moraine Lake and borrowed canoes. It was 10am and the sun was still behind the mountains so it was freezing! We paddled to the other side of the lake to warm up, then the sun came up and it was gorgeous. There were incredible peaks all around and the lake was so blue! We stayed out for over an hour, looking at the views, enjoying the calm and occasionally arguing about how to steer.

Then we drove to Lake Louise, the most famous of the Rockies' lakes. Of course it was packed. There's a hideous monstrosity of a Fairmont hotel on the lakeshore, where we had a tasty lunch with a view. Then we decided to go for a walk.

We set off around the lake at 2.30pm with the sun beating down on us. The lake and surrounding mountains are amazing and we walked past gigantic fallen rocks and huge cliff faces, on a busy but not over-crowded path.

Then came the uphill section. It was mostly exposed all the way up and it was so hot in the sun! We could see glaciers and rocky mountains and lovely rivers from the trail, which were beautiful, but I was overheating a bit much to fully enjoy it. Eventually we made it to the tea house at the end of the valley and had lemonade and pie in the shade, ahhhh. Then it was after 4.30 and cooler and we had an enjoyable descent but were knackered again at the end! We definitely earned a beer over dinner. 

Rocky Mountain adventure

On our first full day, we drove to Emerald Lake for a walk. The weather was beautiful and the car park at the lake was busy. The start of the walk around the lake was full of fancy-clad bus tourists, but once we got off the paved section and onto the trail, there were only a few others around. At the far end of the lake, we headed up into one of the valleys - Emerald Basin. The trial went uphill alongside a river and ended where the river could be seen pouring down the rock faces of the mountain ahead. 

We were out of the trees in the sun and walked over the rocky moraines and dry river beds to the bottom of the falls. It was a spectacular sight but we were starting to bake in the afternoon heat so headed back down.

By the time we got back to the lake, we were pretty knackered and by the time we got back to the car, we were all staggering a little and Mum was in hobble mode! Back for showers, dinner and bed.

To the Rockies

Mum and Dad returned and we went to collect them from the airport in a colossus of a hire car with all our stuff (including my bike) in the back. Then we drove towards the Rockies hearing tales of the amazing bear watching trip.

We overnighted in Kamloops then drove to the village of Field in Yoho Valley National Park, where we arrived at our cabin in the afternoon and set off for a short walk whilst the sun was still up. The Hidden Lake that we walked to was almost completely dried up, but it was a good climb and we saw some bear prints and moose (or maybe elk) prints in the lake bed.

Vancouver with Faye

Mum and Dad flew off to Bella Coola for some wild bear watching and we were left to the city for four days.

We went to the incredible museum of anthropology, ate a lot of amazing food, drank a lot of delicious cocktails and did some shopping. We had a super time but were ready for the mountains by the end of it!

Vancouver with the family

The day after my mountaineering course, I got the bus back to Vancouver with all my bags to meet my family! It was Christmas last time all four of us were together, so we had a noisy, chatty reunion in a bistro before heading to a flat downtown to unpack.

We spent two days exploring the city together. I introduced them to MEC, Canada's outdoors store mecca, and we spent half a day just in there! We went to see the Capilano dam and fish hatchery, ate a lot of amazing food and did the locally famous Grouse Grind. The Grind is a very steep walk up Grouse Mountain in the north of the city. I was told it takes around an hour for normal people and 45 minutes for fit people. It took the four of us an hour and three quarters!! We were dripping with sweat when we got to the top and panted our way into the cafe for lunch. But we were rewarded at the top, not by the views as it was foggy, but by a long sighting of the two resident grizzly bears in an enclosure (they were orphaned and raised in captivity). Then we saw a falconry show of local birds, which was fascinating. 

Mountaineering: Hike out

On the last day, we woke to yet more sunshine and another cloudless sky and after a relaxed breakfast, I learned to build rock anchors before we packed up all our kit.

Having eaten four days of food and packed more effectively, the bag felt better than it did on the way in! I was more comfortable in my big boots too, so our hike out was much quicker.

We went south over a bouldery moraine then met a hiking trail by a little lake. Oh how blissfully easy it is to hike on a trail! And the heather meadows and small trees were beautiful. We got a great view of the buttress we'd climbed the day before, then we had to start to readjust to life around other people. There were a lot of day hikers out and we even met an 83 year old man on the trail, which was awesome. I hope to be hiking in the sub alpine when I'm 83 too!

Back to the gondola, into Whistler village and to a quiet cafe for a burger and milkshake in the shady garden - ahh, so nice.

See the row of three buttresses, centre photo? We climbed the one on the left.

Pics

On Blackcomb peak and our campsite in the evening

Mountaineering: Rock climb

The next morning the alarms went off at 4.30am and Andrew's words of advice going around in my head helped me worm myself out of my cosy cocoon. "Nothing guarantees success in the mountains like a pre-dawn start."

The stars were beautiful, the whole milky way on display in the absence of the moon. We forced down some breakfast then set off up the boulders, headlamp lights bobbing along in the darkness.

It was cold but we were warm by the time we'd hiked up to the col and turned to see an orange glow building in the sky to the east as some birds filled the valley with their echoing squalks. Now light enough to see without our torches, we went down the ominously named Body Bag Bowl, over more boulders with rocky slopes to either side and a dim view of the mountains ahead. The glow of sunrise was behind us, so we watched the world be lit up from behind. The sky above the mountains turned pinky red in a long band on the horizon, making it look as though the whole world had a halo. Then the sunlight spilled over onto the mountain tops, bathing rock and ice in pink-golden light. Long shadows appeared and moved over the landscape as the sun rose quickly in the sky. We were in the cool shadow of Blackcomb peak all morning but the views of the sun drenched world were spectacular! 

Once we had hiked down into the valley and around the side of the mountain, we were at the base of Blackcomb peak and started making our way up its talus slopes (that's more boulders) to get to the base of the rock climb, where we stopped for second breakfast. The buttress we were going up looked cool from the bottom and we set off with Andrew in front, stopping on ledges on the way up. The rock was really solid and nice to climb and you could see down on either side to the couloirs below - enough of a view to make your heart flutter but not enough to be terrifying! 

The buttress brought us onto a beautiful sunny ledge near the top and we stopped for a snack and a rest in the sunshine, oggling the incredible views and feeling very lucky indeed for the fabulous weather! Two blokes passed us here on a trail run / rock climb, the only other people we saw in the area the whole time.

Then we had to shimmy up through a little chimney and walk out onto the summit for a full 360 view in the hot sun and not a breath of wind! It was only 10am, so we hung out at the top for a while, reluctant to leave the views behind. 

The walk from the summit back to camp was only an hour over boulders and we had lunch and then napped for a few hours before an afternoon session of rock skills, where I learned how to ascend a rope using two smaller ropes (prussiks) and descend safely by repelling. 

Another sunset dinner and a cup of tea as the moon got brighter, then it was bedtime. 

(See if you can spot the Black Tusk in the panorama - looks pretty gnarly, can't believe Dave and I went up it!)

Mountaineering: Snow skills

The next morning we didn't get up until 8am and after breakfast, we packed our day bags and set off to find some snow and ice to learn some skills. 

We hiked back up over the boulders to the col, then set off along a ridge with awesome views of our valley and the mountains beyond. There were a few clouds on the peaks along the horizon, but the sun was shining and it was a glorious day. It was a fun scramble over the ridge and when we got to the end, we were rewarded with a view of the Spearhead Glacier in all its terrifying glory - a great expanse of ice and snow with incredible crevasses, dips in the surface where there are hidden crevasses,  rockfall zones and overhanging lips of snow.

We scrambled up Spearhead Mountain and had lunch with a view before heading to a small, safe snow patch to practice skills on.

I learned about glacier travel, snow anchors, ice anchors, crevass rescue and how to arrest a fall. The latter was loads of fun - we hiked to the top and slid down, stopping with our ice axes at the bottom (woohoo!).

Then soaking wet, we hiked back to camp, which was starting to feel more like home.

Mountaineering: Hike in

On the first day of my mountaineering course, I went to a coffee shop in Squamish to meet my guide Andrew. It was 8am and I was sitting there in my squeaky new mountaineering boots with my 60 litre rucksack bursting at the seams and a full day pack strapped to the back of it. There was going to be nobody else on the course, so they dropped the classroom section of the course and me and Andrew were going to spend 4 days in the mountains to learn 'hands on'.

He rolled up to the coffee shop, introduced himself, made me unpack all my kit to make sure it was good, then I repacked (tried to squish everything back in) and he handed me an ice axe, a helmet, a bag of ice screws and a 40m rope. And where are these supposed to go?

Once I was vaguely organised, we drove up to Whistler to get the gondola up a mountain - less hiking and more alpine time! We parked quite a way from the gondola and the 15 minute walk nearly did me in, the bag being so heavy and awkward to carry with the small pack strapped to the back.

Up the Whistler gondola, then on the Peak2Peak to get to Blackcomb Mountain, where we walked out onto barren ski runs and made our way slowly uphill, away from the ski area. Hiking uphill with that bag was a challenge! And my new boots felt so strange to walk in! Mountaineering boots have stiff soles and high tops, so it feels a bit like walking in ski boots.

Eventually I staggered behind Andrew to make it to the base of the Blackcomb Glacier. We dropped the bags, put on our glacier gear (sunnies, crampons, gloves, ice axes) and went for a little practice walk. It felt pretty weird walking in crampons but I got used to it enough for us to drag our packs back on and head up the ice.

It was a steep gradient and there aren't too many good resting spots on a glacier, so I tried not to moan and made it to the ice-free col for a rest. Ahead, another glacier. But this one isn't just bare ice, it is snow-topped (a 'wet' glacier), that can hide crevasses. We put on our harnesses and helmets and Andrew attached the rope to us both. Then we put on our slightly lighter bags and set off across the glacier. I went first (because if I fell into a crevasse, Andrew could rescue me, but I wouldn't know how to rescue him) and I had to go around a scary deep hole and step across a narrow crevasse! Then we walked quickly across a rock-fall zone and uphill to the next col.

The col gave a great view of glacier-topped mountains, talus slopes and boulder fields with a blue lake below. It was an incredible scene but it didn't feel particularly inviting... the world above the tree line looks a bit desolate. 

The glacier gear went back in the bags (damn) and we had to go downhill to our camping spot by the lake, across boulders and boulders and more boulders. There are no paths up here and if you're not on snow or ice, you're on boulders. I was struggling with the bag and my stiff boots on the loose rocks and it seemed to take me for ever to get down to the lake! Andrew found a sweet camping place and I happily ditched my bag, put on my trainers (ahhh) and we set up camp by a stream and some patches of alpine fireweed.

Once set up, I realised I didn't have my jacket... where did I leave it? It was getting cool as the sun dipped behind the mountains and Andrew started cooking dinner as I headed back up the boulders to look for my jacket. Thankfully I was a lot quicker across the rocks in my trainers with no bag, because I'd left it almost all the way back at the col! But when I got back to camp, tasty pasta was ready and we ate, sorted gear and went to bed early. 

Whitewater river run

On the second day of the course, we went out to the Cheakamus river and left one car at the pull-out, one in the middle and one at the put-in. Then we got our kit on, dragged the boats down to a gravel bar and got in.

The river was the lovely creamy green colour that's common in the area and it was bigger and faster than the one we'd practiced on the day before. We went across to the other side and back a few times, practicing the all important skills. If you don't tilt the boat when you cross the river, it pushes you under.

After going back and forth a bit, we headed downstream a bit and stopped in another eddy then went back and forth a bit more. Every time I went out into the flow of the river, my heart starts pumping faster, I'm concentrating on the angle of the boat, the tilt, my paddle strokes, and trying to look at where I'm going. There's so much to remember! But with every crossing, it feels more natural. 

Once we start making more progress, the river run starts getting to be fun. We leave an eddy, get into the flow, steer ourselves with the flow until we catch the next eddy to come to a stop again. The ripples are turning into small waves in places and there are rocks to avoid (or bump over - keep those hips loose!) and you have to aim for a safe part of the river all the time. Don't get trapped under deadwood or stuck up against a rock!

It's such a good feeling going down river over the rapids, sloshing through waves that splash over the hull and in your face, woohoo! And getting good at coming into an eddy lets you slide in like a skier coming to a stop.

We stopped for lunch, hungrily gobbled down our food and got back in. We were feeling a bit tired and a few people flipped over on the first set of rapids. I got stuck on a rock and pulled the safety maneuver that we'd just been taught to get myself off without tipping, phew! 

By the time we got to the end, we'd done 10km of the river, my arms and shoulders were tired and I felt exhausted! But I was relatively dry, having not capsized all day! We changed into dry clothes, packed up the kit and I got a ride home with Emily again.

That evening, Sally and I had dinner and her friend Nick came over and I managed to stay mostly awake until bedtime. 

Whitewater kayaking

Today, I did the first day of a two day whitewater kayak beginner's course. It was an itense day!

After kitting up and learning a bit about the boats, we had to practice getting in and out of them on land. Sounds like a silly exercise, but I assure you that it was necessary! I didn't even think I could fit inside my kayak at first. My knees just wouldn't go inside! But after a wriggle around, I got myself squished in. Even the thought of tipping upside down in that thing made the panic rise in my chest. I have two fears - claustrophobia, and a fear of being under water. So being trapped upside down in a kayak is not an appealing prospect! 

Once we could get in and out on land, we had to carry our boats to the water (Christ, that's heavy!) and get in on the lake. The first thing you notice when you push off from the shore is that the boat is very sensitive to your movements. It's not heavy and stable like a sea kayak or a canoe, it rocks easily and turns left and right of its own accord constantly! 

The first drill of the day was "wet exits" - tipping the boat and getting out whilst it's upside down. Great. They did the demo then everyone took their turn with an instructor. I went last. Emily talked me through it and I felt the fear start to take hold and spill over as tears. I pulled off my spray skirt above water, took a few deep breaths, flipped and popped up next to my boat. Phew! Empty the kayak, get back in and do it again, this time with the skirt on but holding onto the release handle. Flip, pull, pop, and up for air. The last time, I wanted to do it properly. Flip over, tap the hull three times, find the release handle, pull and then pop up. I felt surprisingly calm under the water when I talked myself into it and did the drill, feeling quite proud.

Worst part over, I happily learned a few strokes and we spent the morning going in circles (intentionally and unintentionally) on the lake. 

In the afternoon we were out on the river, paddling from one eddy to the one on the other side and back, over and over, each time learning something about the water or our own abilities. By the end of the day, we jumped a 4ft drop into the water in the boats and did a short section of rapids! Such a cool day! And damn, this means I'm going to have to buy a kayak.

Whitehorse to Squamish

My week in Whitehorse was not what I expected. I was physically exhausted, emotionally delicate, the weather wasn't great, and for two days I was in bed with a tummy bug.

On my first day, Ramesh took me to Skagway, Alaska. It was sunny and hot, the drive was absolutely gorgeous and we had a great lunch and milkshake in the picture perfect town of Skagway. It was a fun outing and a lovely day!

Apart from that, the only activity of note was a hike I did by myself, which was scary because I was the only one on the mountain. Or maybe even the only one in the entire valley. And I saw some cougar poop. Eek! But the views and weather were great that day too.

The rest of the week was rainy and I didn't go out much but I enjoyed reading a lot of books before I was forced to make friends with the toilet for 24 hours on the last day.

Then I flew back into Vancouver, went to my storage locker to collect my mountaineering kit and caught a bus to Squamish where I arrived at 3pm totally worn out, having not eaten for a few days! However, I was rescued by Sally. A friend of a friend, Sally and husband Sam had agreed to put me up at their place in Squamish! So Sally met me off the bus, made me amazing vegetable soup and sent me to bed with a cup of tea after a lovely evening chat. And all was well with the world. 

Whitehorse

Today I got on a plane in Vancouver and flew north for two and a half hours to land in Whitehorse, Yukon. The views from the plane were impressive - save a few roads, it was a landscape barren of human activity. Vast forests, mountain tops thrusting their treeless peaks towards the sky, ice fields, immense lakes, meandering rivers with their former courses etched into their floodplains. It was a geographer's sketch of the pre-human landscape come to life.

Whitehorse looks from the air like an ugly sprawl in an otherwise pristine landscape. Newly cleared areas for building lots on the outskirts of town, industrial areas and squares of land cleared for one reason or another. I landed right in the middle of it all and was met at the airport by Ramesh, a friend of a friend and an incredible person. I cycled across Canada but Ramesh hand-cycled across and did interviews and meets and greets along the way to raise money for polio eradication. 

Ramesh took me into town, we went for lunch and he showed me around. Downtown is nice, they still have the wooden buildings built by the first European settlers and the whole place feels like a friendly village. I'm staying at a campsite just out of town and can walk the 3km into town on the millennium trail along the banks of the Yukon.

I think I finally have to acknowledge the change that's coming in on the wind. The aspen trees' leaves are turning yellow, the fireweeds are shedding their flowers and releasing thin pods of fluffy seeds to be carried off on the wind, the sun rises later and sets earlier. Autumn is here. And as I felt a change in myself with the arrival of summer, I feel a change with its departure. 

The trip that felt like it would never be over is coming to an end. I find myself thinking more about the future - the return to work, being back with Dave, musing about what path to steer our lifes down... but I must turn my attention to deciding how to make the most of my week in Whitehorse.

Solo hike

I got up at 5.40am to walk to get the 6.15 bus from Victoria to the Juan de Fuca trail. The bus ride was long and winding and bumpy and I was glad to get out at Port Renfrew for breakfast. After tea and a burrito, I set out further along the road we'd driven in the bus. The trailhead was still 4km away! What kind of trailbus drops you off 4km from the trail?! I was raging all the way (the bus fare was $60 each way) and was hot, sweaty and tired before I'd even started.

Finally! The trail. I paid my backcountry camping permit at the honesty box in the car park (that the bus could have driven to) and started my 20km hike. At first, the wide trail was easy going and I was soon at the rocky shoreline. After a quick chat with an Irish lady, I carried on along the shore in the trees. The trail was narrow here and harder to walk on - slippery roots, mud, sections of boardwalk built decades ago, mossy and rotten, some planks missing entirely, consumed by the forest floor. 

When I wasn't in the dense trees, I was in creepy dark sections of forest with no undergrowth or going through tunnels of bushes - salal berry bushes 7ft high on either side, closing in, trying to take back the trail. And it wasn't just people who used the trail. There were bear poos everywhere! Most looked like pats of smooshed salal berries. They were pretty big, so I guess their makers are too! I sang as I walked or recited poems to the forest, trying not to feel embarrassed when I met someone coming the other way. 

I saw maybe 20 people all day, in pairs or groups. And I saw almost 30 bear scats. When I got too tired to sing and walk, I whistled and walked. When I got too tired to whistle, I clapped. And when I was too tired to clap, I just walked. I stumbled a few times on slippery logs and was feeling pretty keen to get to the campsite. I'd set off in a pair of socks that had a hole in the heel and despite my efforts to plaster it over, my sweaty feet kept shedding the plasters and by the end of the day, I had a painfully raw heel.

The path took me down to the beach and I wandered across the rocks, rounded pebbles and sinking sand. I could see some tents around the bay but couldn't walk on the beach all the way to them - the path must go back into the trees somewhere. I saw a sign that marked an alternative high tide route, but there was plenty of beach, so I carried on along it. Then I saw where the tide came up to the cliffs. It was still shallow enough to walk but deep enough to get my feet wet. I ended up wading through 8 inches of salt water, my raw heel burning then being rubbed harder in my wet boots. 

I saw a rope hanging off a steep scree slope of a cliff and climbed up, only to find that the path at the top went the wrong way - it was the alternative high tide route I should have taken. Back down the rope, arms and legs mad at my bad decision making. Then along the beach until the path actually went back into the woods and I made it to the campsite sweaty, salty and bedraggled after 8 hours of hiking and a total of about half an hour in breaks.

I found a sandy pitch above the driftwood line, changed into dry clothes and hung out my sweat-drenched shirt and sports bra, socks and boots before setting up camp and cooking dinner. 

The campsite was fairly busy, being near a car park accessible from the road above. The girl in the tent next door was Elle, here on her own too, spending a week on the beach to unwind from her full time job and full time studies. I also met Mike, who gave me a beer before he set off down the beach to a quieter spot to cook up the muscles he'd colleted that day.

I went to bed early but was kept awake a while by the noisy people the other side of Elle (they had been taking acid all evening and were now feeding the gulls and playing music) and my thoughts about the day ahead...

If I'm honest, I didn't really enjoy the trail. I didn't mind being on my own too much, it's just that it wasn't as nice as the places I'd been with Dave. The forest wasn't as pleasant to be in and there were no incredible views, no mountains, no glaciers, no lakes, no alpine meadows. Just lots of trees and mud and poo. I was dreading getting up, putting on my wet clothes and doing another 20km that was marked on the trail map as 'very difficult'. Then I had an epiphany - I don't have to get up and do more of the trail! I am on holiday after all. My plan at the end was to hitch back to Victoria and I could do that from anywhere. So I turned off the alarm that I'd set and fell asleep with the weight lifted from my shoulders.

In the morning I woke to a spider crawling up the walls in my tent. I'd opened the door a little in the night and the warm, dry tent had attracted a woodlouse, several fattened mosquitos and a few spiders, all of which had to be captured and released. That done, I had breakfast under cloudy skies as a thin mist blew in off the sea, finished my book, chatted to Elle, had a nap then sat watching the waves, reflecting on the last few months and thinking about how to shape my post-Canada life as the gulls picked through the trash left by the acid-taking crowd.

In the afternoon, I walked along the beach and bumped into Elle again. She told me about a nice waterfall and some good bouldering rocks so along I went. The rocky beach was home to ants, spiders and other creepy crawlies. There were so many spiders sunning themselves on the pebbles that I'd see them scatter with every footfall. I'm surprised there were only a handful in my tent this morning! I got to the rocks in a nice bay and did some bouldering - I even got kudos from a passing couple for some nice moves on a little overhang. Then I headed up the creek and saw ahead 20ft rock faces either side of the creek and a fallen tree on top, creating a cave effect by blocking some of the light from above. At the back of the cave, a waterfall cascaded down and the walls were damp with mossy growth.

I wandered back to my tent, waved goodbye to Elle as she left to catch the bus and sat on my driftwood log as the sun came out from behind the clouds and warmed me up. I watched a spider hunt and kill an ant and saw a seal in the water, then turned my attention to people watching. The couple in Elle's old spot had carried in pillows, a hammock, a bbq, chairs and a big water container in addition to all their camping gear. The big family further along had a collection of coolers and food boxes and even brought a hammer to put their pegs in with (on a beach full of rocks!!). Lots of people had brought heavy containers of tap water all the way down here - madness!

As evening came, I took another walk along the beach past all the people and climbed back onto my boulder. It only had one dry edge now so I sat on the top at the far side where the waves were all around. Earlier in the day, the waves had crashed onto the beach with thousands of pebbles dancing ahead of them, catching a ride up the beach. Now the tide was on its way out and the sound of a wave breaking was followed by the rain-maker sound of thousands of pebbles being dragged back into the sea. The low sun reflected on the water and little wading birds hurried back and forth along the shore. 

Eventually I went back to my tent, had a chat with a couple next to me and made quesadillas before going to bed.

In the morning, the forest looked magical as the sun shone shafts of light between the big trees whose branches dripped with lichen. I packed up and headed towards the car park behind a couple who were parked there. I asked for a ride and got taken almost to Victoria, where I caught a bus to the hostel.

Views

Backcountry camping: Black Tusk

Friday was our last full day in the backcountry and we woke to the sunshine slanting through the trees. Yes! We'd been hoping that the weather would dry out so that we could attempt the Black Tusk.

We discussed the route over breakfast with a local family - the dad had climbed the tusk years ago and recommend it. You don't need ropes - the climb is actually rated as a grade 3 scramble, although it's scary in places. He said it's doable and we should give it a go, so off we went.

By the time we were leaving camp, it was almost 11am, so we stopped just outside camp to have some cheese and biscuits and look at the tusk that stood so defiantly on the top of the mountain. It was a beautiful day and the forest had dried out already. We set off in the sunshine along a boardwalk then a trail through the alpine meadows of heather and wildflowers interspersed with clumps of forest. The flowers were amazing displays of colour and shape, my favourite being the spiky-looking red and orange Indian Paintbrush.

Halfway to the tusk, we met up with Tod on the trail and chatted our way up past the tree line, along a flat section of rock and scree then up a steep slope that led to the base of the tusk. The sun was occasionally dimmed by clouds and we felt the wind rushing past us whenever we weren't sheltered by the mountain. We made it to a ridge just below the tusk where we had a view of the landscape on the other side of the mountain and a closeup view of the formidable looking tusk itself. The tusk occupied the entire view to our left - a huge vertical face of shattered black rock with some lesser faces below, the whole thing looking structurally fragile, on the brink of turning to dust. We heard a small rockfall and saw some scree sliding into the dark cavern between us and it. Ahead of us was a vast barren area of snow-dotted rock and scree and to the right a continuation of the ridge with a mini glacier nestled into its north-facing hollow. The tusk was all that was left of a once humongous volcanic peak, the rest eroded away. Someone had walked along the ridge with his guitar on his back whilst we were there and started playing, the music coming to us on the breeze.

Beyond the volcanic scene, a perfect picture of the natural world at work. Glaciated peaks in every direction - huge ice fields spilling off the tops of the mountains and melting as they descend down the slopes, turning into rivers and lakes. To the south, the huge Garibaldi Lake, fed by many of the glaciers, still a perfect blue even from a distance. Forests as far as the eye can see with alpine meadows filling the gaps between trees. And clouds forming over the peaks; the water returning to the sky, to return to the earth.

We sat and had lunch, contemplating the climb. Tod didn't want to go any further, so we parted ways after lunch and Dave and I walked towards the imposing tusk. The path went up to it then around to the left and we looked up at it from below, hoping it wouldn't drop any rocks on us. We were nervous and excited, feeling like we were on a proper adventure. Tod was below us, walking towards to guitarist whose music still reached us. Around the side, the black tusk sloped away from us rather than overhanging our heads and looked only 20 meters high, the summit being suddenly out of view. We found the chimney that is the base of the scramble and set about deciding whether to go up.

The first section of the chimney is the hardest part, the crux. If we can do the first six meters of the climb, we can make it to the top. It looked scary - the black rock cracked open by the weather, turned into chunks of rock held together by a powdery deposit that seemed to be solid until it was disturbed and turned to dust. Test each hand and foot placement before you commit to it. Take your time. We were stood at the top of a scree slope at the base of the tusk and it was the exposure that made the route tricky - the thought that if you fell, you might be sliding a long way. I could see Tod and the guitarist on the ridge and heard singing and playing in harmony. Way below, a few people were having lunch but otherwise there was nobody to be seen. 

I tested the first few moves to a small ledge, then came back down. Slowly, slowly. I felt sure we could do it but my heart was pounding with fear and excitement. Dave went up to the second ledge then came back down without any trouble. 

Okay, let's do it.

I went first, up to the first ledge, up to the second ledge. Concentrate on hand and foot placements, try not to think about the space between yourself and the unstable ground below. I was nervous but I enjoyed it. It was an easy route with a bit of fear factor but nothing I couldn't talk myself out of - exactly the kind of scramble I'd been looking for. 
Up on the second ledge, Dave came up to join me. Then I carried on up to the next ledge that was at the base of a scree slope in a narrow gulley, which continued off the side down a vertical drop to my right. Each time I waited for Dave to climb, I was frozen to the spot so as not to kick any loose rocks onto him. Once he was up, I walked tentatively up the gulley and out onto a tiny col where my gulley went off into the abyss in front of me and I was between two rock faces, the one on the right being the main tusk. I climbed up the little rock on my left for a view of the world we'd left behind as the mist filled the abyss next to the tusk. 

We looked at the next section with trepidation, not because it looked difficult but because it went further up onto the scary formation that we didn't trust to hold us. The mist was enclosing the tusk and apart from a narrow view of the forest and lake paradise to the south, all we could see was black rock and grey cloud. But once we climbed out of the gulley onto the route to the summit, we felt like we were on relatively solid ground. The route was a well worn walk from there to the summit over loose rocks but not on a steep gradient. 

As we hiked to the top, the cloud around us cleared to give us a view of the world we'd seen from below but with extra mountain tops in view. It was a fairly incredible sight, the world from 2500m. Clouds hung over the mountains and in the valleys. A hawk circled the tusk. The views came and went behind clouds that were blown along by the same wind we could feel on our faces. We stayed up there until an ominous dark cloud came our way - we'd hate to have to descend in the rain!

We hiked down to the gulley, scrambled down to the chimney and I tentatively climbed back down to the start of the scramble. Dave followed on and we celebrated our successful ascent. Woohoo! I'm so glad we went for it.

On the way back, we took a detour along the ridge to say hello to  the travelling guitarist. We chatted to Ryan for ages about London, New Zealand, Canada and the incredible landscapes of the world. The clouds were all but gone and we had a fabulous view of the area from the ridge. Then evening was upon us and we hiked down together, scree-surfing off the slopes below the tusk and bounding back down the trail through the meadows and forests before parting ways to go to different campsites.
What a day! We finished it off with a refreshing dip in a little plunge pool under a six foot waterfall before dinner and bed in our nicely dried out tent. Then... was that thunder? We'd better close the vents and door just in case.

The rumbles got louder and louder until there were such loud claps of thunder that it seemed like the sky would crack open. The rain hammered on the tent and the lightning lit us up in bright white flashes. The rain collected on the ground and gushed in torrential little rivers that sprung up all over - we could hear them rushing under the tent pad. Then suddenly all was calm for a few seconds - the eye of the storm - before the wind and rain returned with a crack of thunder and we were being pummeled once again.

In the morning, a fog hung quietly over the rain-drenched world and we packed up and headed back down.