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.

Backcountry camping: scree and sky

The hike up to the campsite was easy enough, 8km of switchbacks on a wide trail through the forest over three hours. And thankfully the clouds were around for the first time since Dave arrived, so the temperature was in the 20s rather than the 30s. The still, damp air brought out the forest's earthy smells.

At Taylor Meadows campsite, the meadow areas between the small alpine trees were teeming with grasses, mosses and flowers. We pitched our tent, had dinner with a few others in the hut and saw the sun break through the clouds just before it set. The hut at the campsite had an excellent view of the Black Tusk - a hard, jagged tooth on the top of an otherwise eroded volcano. We'd been thinking about climbing it. It looked scary.

The next morning, we woke to a few drops of rain and a dampness in the air that set the mood for the rest of the day. After a sociable breakfast, we packed a day bag and headed towards Mount Price. On the way, we went past The Barrier, a colossal natural dam. It was misty and when we first arrives at the rocky hillside used as a viewpoint, we could see only a section of the barrier and a valley full of cloud. The sound of falling pebbles filled the valley as the barrier eroded away, slowly, slowly. Then the cloud started to disperse and the view opened up. The full scale of the dam became apparent, a humongous wall of rock deposited by a volcano so long ago. A stream erupting impossibly from its base. Tree covered hillsides all around and glacier-capped peaks in the distance. But no sooner had the cloud cleared than it was back and the view was nothing more than a grey drop-off.

We continued to Garibaldi Lake for lunch and watched the intensely blue water from inside the hut as its surface was disturbed by raindrops. Past the campsite, past the ranger's hut and into the woods, following a well trodden but narrow and overgrown trail marked by flagging tape. This was the first route we'd done that wasn't marked by signs and maintained for public use. The further we walked from the perceived safety of the campsite, the more isolated we felt. 

The trail wound its way through forests and across boulder fields with the occasional comforting view of the blue lake showing us how far we'd come. The drizzle continued and we ducked, climbed, crawled and hiked through wet plants along the trail, hot in our waterproofs. Once we got out of the dense forest and into a moss-covered valley, we packed up the waterproofs and the mosquitos started to bother us. But the little valley was gorgeous. The forests in Canada are so wild and alive compared to those managed woodlands back home. You can see the stuggles and the cycle of life in action. Fallen trees lie slumped on the ground, great trunks bent to conform with the shape of the land where they came to rest, the wood turning to dust by the action of insects and fungi, the trunk half swallowed by the earth and half somehow intact, some bark on top still perfectly formed as it was when the tree was standing, even as the wood underneath is returning to the soil. 

Then we were out of the trees and into the rocks, a steep, barren slope ahead of us with a tree-lined ridge to the right. Clinker Peak. We couldn't see the top for the cloud but we had to go up it to cross over to the slightly higher Mount Price further up. We started up the sandy path that hugged the relatively stable vegetated ridge. The higher we got, the less stable the ground, until we were sliding back with each step forward. We past a boulder field, the mosquitos still following us, and paused to admire a view of the lake from between the cloud and mist. 

When we got to the top of Clinker Peak, we turned to find the view of the lake replaced by cloud and the fog closing in on all sides until the nearby rocks and dwarf trees we shadows against a grey-white backdrop. No lake, no sky, no ground. Just 30 meters of rocky slope, then nothing.

We gave up on Mount Price and descended Clinker Peak, skidding our way delicately down the scree slope into the mist horizon until we could see the trees again. At least the change in the weather meant that the mosquitos had gone into hiding and we could make the return trip in peace.

Back at the campsite, we made dinner in the hut and exchanged tales of the day with the other campers.

Backcountry camping: glacial landscapes

The next morning we woke to a toasty sun-warmed tent, had breakfast and packed a day bag. We'd found a scramble in our guide book that we wanted to try - it was a ten hour round trip but it was out and back, so we could turn around any time.

We set out east along the lake. The mountain to our left had a glacier on top and its meltwaters were coming down in lots of small streams that allowed a wildflower meadow to flourish all over the mountain side. We stuck to the path through the meadows to the end of the lake and hiked up the rocks to the foot of the glacier.

I've never seen a glacier up close in real life. It was incredible. It was spilling down the valley, carrying jagged rocks, boulders, and pebbles, all irregular shapes and sharp angles, freshly plucked from the mountain - yet to be smoothed by rivers and oceans. The cracks and craters in the ice made patterns of curved lines and circles. Glacial till (rock dust so fine that it looks like grey powdered chalk) comes down on top of the ice and collects in groves and channels, giving the ice a dirty appearance. It was clearly a scene in motion but the movement of ice and rocks too slow to observe. The water was faster - it trickled and gushed from various under-ice streams which came together at the foot of the glacier and emerge from a clean blue ice cave to form a blue-green silty lake. Little icebergs floated on the lake but were melted by the time the water spilled over into a fast flowing stream that ran into the much larger Wedgemount Lake.

The sun was hot but the air coming off the glacier was cool. We set off uphill, passing the glacier on our right. After a few minutes of walking on rocks, we came upon a small trickling stream and realised we were on rocks that were in a stream that was on top of the glacier! We could see the ice under the flowing water. Oh god, is this safe? We hopped off an overhanging ice ledge to more solid ground and carried on.

We walked and scrambled our way up the valley and a stream - fast flowing and braided on the steep rocky slope. A lot of the rocks shifted a bit under foot, the hillside nothing more than a steep boulder field on the surface. At the top of the stream, we scrambled up a nice little section of solid rock, a welcome change from the boulders, and sat for some food in the hot sun overlooking the glacier.

We had reached another small lake and the foot of another glacier that we were to pass to continue up to the ridge. We started walking past the glacier but found ourselves on its terminal morraine, sinking up to our ankles in soft muddy till. Ahhh! Back to the rocks! Phew.

Another route took us a less muddy but no more stable way past the glacier. I looked up at the slope we were supposed to scramble. It didn't look safe. A steep slope comprised of boulders that were clearly on their way down. We heard a few cracks from the ice and saw miniature rock slides and tiny sections of steep banks tumble down. A landscape on the move.

We started up the slope on a section of firmly attached bedrock, but soon had to tackle the loose stuff. Even the huge rocks often wobbled or shifted and it didn't feel safe. I sat on a relatively stable rock and thought about how far it was to the nearest piece of terra firma. Can we go back please? Dave seemed happy with the decision and we started picking our way slowly back down. Down is always harder than up and we took our time, back across the bedrock, across the rocks, avoiding the soft morraine this time. And we had another snack stop at the top of our friendly stream with a view of Wedgemount Lake and glacier, feeling almost safe again.

On the way down, the hot sun was getting to us and we stopped in a pool for an icy swim. Then back down to the first glacier and its iceberg lake. There was a man on one of the icebergs and as we got closer, we could see he was wearing a suit, sunglasses and posh shoes... and there was a camera man and a crew there too. The camera man was stood in the icy water with nothing on his legs! Apparently they were shooting for a mobile phone advert. The suited man was posing on the iceberg, mobile phone in hand and the juxtaposed scene was quite striking. We chatted to a crew member for a few minutes then stuck around because I was curious to see how he got off the iceberg. They finished shooting and the camera man waded out to the iceberg and the fellow in the suit climbed on his back for a piggy back to shore! Not so dignified now.

Back down through the wildflower meadow then up to camp to drop off our stuff and head to the lake for another swim, having worked up a sweat on the descent. 

That evening we saw the orange glow of the sunset and got ready for bed. We watched the moonrise again from the tent - this time the moon was bright, shining white. We looked for a flattened edge where it should have been waning, but she still looked full.

The next morning we had to get back down the rock-root stairway of a trail to the car. A few mosquitos followed us down and we negotiated the tricky descent whilst swatting at our shoulders. It took a lot of concentration so there wasn't much chat for the three and a half hour walk!

Once back on the road, we drove to Pemberton in the hope it was more pleasant than the tourist-infested, new-built, fast-food centre of Whistler 'village'. And it was. We had showers in the quiet leisure centre, put a load of laundry on and went for a tasty lunch before stocking up on supplies and heading back out.

We had a one night car camping layover at Nairn Falls before hitting the backcountry again with (very slightly) fresher legs. This time we were heading for Garibaldi Lake, where we could camp for three nights and pack in a few day hikes to peaks and glaciers.

Backcountry camping: An uphill hike

We waved everyone goodbye on Saturday morning and headed for Whistler, collecting some hitch hikers in Squamish on the way. The two girls were hitching for the first time and one worked in the Fairmont in Whistler, so she gave us some tips on where to go camping. 

We shopped, ate a disappointing lunch and headed for the mountains. First trip of the week was Wedgemount Lake. The gravel road was thankfully only 2km this time and we got to the trailhead without any trouble. We set off around 4pm and loads of day hikers were coming down. Most of them looked shattered! The steep grade was tough on the legs and one girl with a sweaty face said "I think I'm dying" on her way past. 

We were dying a bit on the way up and stopped pretty often to snack and drink. Slowly but surely we made it up the dusty trail that was basically a 7km long uneven staircase of roots and rocks. 

Towards the end of the four hour hike we came out of the big trees and into alpine meadows and dwarf conifers, up a rocky slope and over the lip to enter the valley and see the big milky-green lake below. It was quite a view - imposing dark rocky peaks all around, topped with glaciers whose runoff formed the lake. It was spectacular to look at but didn't have the nice safe feel of Rainy Day Lake or Elfin Lakes. The guys on the tent pad next to us were already in their sleeping bags, getting an early night ahead of a long day of ice climbing. We felt like we were in an alien environment without the necessary kit and experience. But after setting up camp and eating, it felt like home for the night and we stood outside to watch the world change...

The sun had set in the west and left a pale orange and blue glow across the sky. As it got darker, we looked to the east across the lake and saw the glow of the moon behind the mountains. We watched the moon rise - perfectly round, big and yellow, its craters visible with the naked eye. We watched until it was high enough to cast a reflection across the water then cosied into our sleeping bags to warm up.

Part 3.5

It would have been amazing to see the sun rise but we slept right through it and woke when the sun was warming the tent. A chilled out breakfast with Brandon and Gill then we packed a day bag and headed out towards Opal Cone, a volcanic peak to the north. It was only 200m higher than our campsite but we had to descend into a deep valley and get back out the other side, so it was a tough walk. 

We walked through more alpine meadows and saw dozens of types of wildflowers! They were pink, purple, lilac, white, yellow and orange - a fabulous display of colour amidst the grey rock and green trees. 

In the bottom of the valley, we crossed a raging river and we could see the glacier it came from only a few kilometres above. We hiked up out of the valley, around switchbacks and along a rocky ridge that looked like a moraine. On the right was a steep rocky drop-off to a barren plateau and opal-coloured lakes below. On the left the slope was shallower and covered with flowers and dancing butterflies. 

Then the path headed up steeply and we found ourselves on loose rock and scree on a ridiculous angle. Who decided to make a path up a scree slope?! We took our time and I did my best not to freak out, then we got to the end of the slope and saw the actual path and rejoined it. Phew - at least we don't have to go down that slope!

We had lunch at the top overlooking a barren rockscape and the opal lakes, a few trees in the foreground clinging to the cliffs. Then we had to go all the way down the steep cone, back into the valley and over the river, then all the way back up the other side. I was exhausted and hungry (anyone who knows me well enough to have met me when I'm tired and hungry will feel sorry for Dave at this point) and I whinged all the way back. Then, about 2km from the hut we passed a guy in a digger taking scree off the hills and piling it up. We chatted to him then carried on. His colleague then came past in a bobcat to collect the scree and take it back to camp. We chatted to him too and when he'd collected the scree, he gave us a lift to camp on his way back. Ahh.

We had some much needed snacks then packed up our stuff and started on the trail back to the car. Thankfully I'd cheered up a bit by then and we talked all the way down and enjoyed the views all over again. 

We made it back to the car around 6pm and started driving back down the gravel road we'd come up. I noticed one huge pothole too late and scraped the bumper. Bummer. 

That evening we drove back to Vancouver and checked into a lovely B&B on Capilano Road. We went for dinner in our smelly trail clothes then showered and crashed out exhausted. 

The next two days were spent recovering, eating and planning, doing chores and talking to the other guests, who were from all over the world! Breakfasts at the B&B were three course delights and we'd sit for hours learning about Lebanon, India, Dubai and San Diego whilst being brought delicious food. One afternoon, we headed to a park where there's a dam and fish hatchery in the forest. The hatchery was pretty interesting and we saw fish jumping up a fish ladder. We stood by the water in the shade of the trees and watched an osprey, a kingfisher and a heron all fishing in the same calm section between riffles!

Part 3: Raft and hike

We went to a hotel in squamish to meet the white water rafting gang and after signing in and wet-suiting up, we all piled onto two old school buses with the rafts on top to drive out to the river. 

The guides were brilliant - kept us entertained on the drive and pointed out views of waterfalls, mountains and glaciers. Then we got to the put-in point and got our life jackets and helmets on whilst the guides prepped the rafts. One safety talk later and we were out on the water. Our guide was Jean from France and he was hyper as anything, bouncing all over the place and getting excited about the trip. In our boat with us were a father and son from Luxembourg, an active middleaged British couple and two girls from Australia. I had my reservations about the crazy Jean at first, but he was amazing, his enthusiasm for being out on the water in the natural world was catchy and we all enjoyed ourselves. He steered us into the biggest rapids and told us about the landscape and his crazy kayak adventures - he did a 20m waterfall in his kayak once! 

The river we were on was called the Elaho then the Squamish, which flows straight from the icefields and glaciers - only 4 degrees and good to drink. I scooped handfuls on the way, it was delicious. The river wound its way through forested mountains and between granite rock faces, sometimes calm and sometimes a bubbling torrent of grade 5 rapids. One of the kayakers in front of us went out of view when he was in the trough of the wave and we were riding the crest. We got slammed with facefuls of water as Jean screamed "Bonsai!" and we all dived into the bottom of the boat. Woohoo! 

On a calm section, we jumped out and held onto the raft, riding the little rapids on our backs. Then we were hauled ungracefully back in by our life jacket lapels like fish flopped into the bottom on the boat. "Positions!" Then "Paddle forward! Harder!" And back into the next set of rapids. 

Between rapids, Jean pointed out the Weeping Wall, a mountain face covered with braided waterfalls, and we went along a calm section of braided river between huge piles of dead trees scattered on the pebbles. We were out on the water for two hours and had an amazing time. When we got out, we all helped get the raft back on the bus and sat in our soggy wetsuits on the ride back. 

It was 3.30pm when we got back to the hotel to change and eat and look at the photos on the big screen together. But Dave and I couldn't stay long - we had a three hour hike to do to get to our campsite.

We took a turning off a street in Squamish and were immediately on a gravel road in the woods. Doesn't take long to get out of town here. The road was 16km long and took us ages in the little Yaris, me trying to avoid potholes and rocks and driving off the road! We got to the car park, put our camping fee in the honesty box and started our hike at 5pm.

It was shady in the trees and we headed up the rocky path without too much trouble. As we got a bit higher, the landscape opened out to reveal alpine meadows of pink heather interspersed with clumps of deep green trees. Off to the left, views of huge mountains with green slopes and white peaks. The evening light was beautiful and thankfully not too hot and we kept stopping to admire the landscape. 

As it was approaching 8pm, we came over a gentle crest and saw a hut by Elfin Lakes. The air and water were still and the mountains and their personal clouds were relected in the clear lakes. One mountain light grey with an ice field on top had formed whispy white clouds atop its peak. Its neighbour was a jagged cluster of black rock peaks that had formed a dark, sinister cloud for itself. We went past the hut to the campsite - newly built tent pads on an alpine meadow overlooking the best of the views. The sun had gone behind a mountain but it was still light and we pitched our tent with an incredible view of the valley and mountains. The trees really are something else, I've never seen such a rich deep green.

There were two or three other tents around and when we went into the little cabin to make dinner, we chatted to Brandon and his 12 year old sister Gill. It was her first camping trip and they were having a great time.

By the time we'd cooked, eaten, washed up and changed, we were hanging our food in the bear-proof hanger in the light of the moon. It was such a gorgeous, still evening and we'd heard there was a meteor shower so we put the mats and sleeping bags on the tent pad outside the tent and looked at the sky. There were plenty of stars to see in spite of the bright moon and we saw a few shooting stars before I fell asleep and Dave had to wake me to get me inside as the dew was starting to form all over us in the cold night. 

Anna and Dave's adventure: part 2

Thursday was our transition day. We had to paddle back to the kayak shop, drive into town, resupply, do laundry, shower (there was no fresh water at either of the campsites and salty sea washes don't really cut it), repack for hiking and then hike for 4 hours! It was a long day but we did it all. We set off early enough in the kayak to ride the tide back in and arrive at high tide for easy unloading. It was a beautiful easy paddle, the sun coming up over the mountain forests, hot on our skin in the cool of the morning, the tide pulling us along.

We did all our chores and had two good meals in Powell River, so by the time we set off on the Sunshine Coast Trail, it was 4.30pm. My hiking bag felt heavy and the sun was burning but when we got on the trail in the shade of the forest, the hike started to feel good. The forest was lovely, tall trees with bare, straight trunks and canopies high above. There were fallen trees everywhere, lying at every angle and leaning up against each other. An unmanaged forest except for a narrow trail. There were a few good views of the bay along the way then we headed uphill to Rainy Day Lake, where there is a hut.

On our approach to the hut, we heard voices and called a friendly hello. It was 8.30pm and we didn't want to startle anyone who might be worried about bears! Emma and Jeff greeted us cheerily at the hut. They were a lovely young couple and we had nice chats about hiking and cycle touring and life in Canada. Dave and I went for a swim in the lake, which was the warmest lake I've ever swam in! Then we had dinner and set up camp in the loft of the hut.

The next morning, Emma showed us edible salal berries and huckleberries and Dave and I set off up Mount Troubridge on a day hike, leaving most of our kit at the hut. It was a big day - the mountain is around 1300m high and the walk only 10km each way so pretty steep. But what a hike! We walked through the forest to a logging road where we were greeted with impressive views of the sea and mountains. Then we hiked up through an exposed section, logged at some point recently but grown back thick with sunshine-loving berry bushes. There were huckleberries everywhere! We stopped to pick the biggest, juiciest berries and gorged like hungry bears. Then sweating we came back into the forest - old growth forest, the tall trees standing strong and proud above the ferns and moss on the forest floor below, old trees dripping with lichen, dead trees standing naked of leaves and bark, their trunks knarled and twisted, home to fungi and insects. Fallen trees everywhere - on the ground, leaning against other trees or rocks, some broken, some still growing defiantly in a new direction, others uprooted, revealing the soil to be only around a foot thick, and mostly moss.

Up we climbed, past incredible fungi and trees, saw a bald eagle riding the air currents, stepped over little green and brown frogs and watched garter snakes slither off the path as we approached. The cobwebs caught on our faces and a few horse flies buzzed around us, joined by the occasional mosquito. 

Once we got to the top, we were tired from four hours of hiking and stopped to admire the views and have lunch. Then we embarked on the decent - speedier, but not to be underestimated! Half an hour of decent was enough on the knees and toes really but still two hours to go. We met Emma and Jeff on their way up, cheerily humping uphill with their big bags and we wished each other happy travels. Then down, down, all the way back to the hut. The sun was still coming into the narrow valley over the mountain and we went down to the lake for a swim in the balmy waters.

The next morning we were heading back to the car by another route, uphill at first through more beautiful forests and along a ridge line with more great views, then all the way back down to sea level and back to the car. We were knackered and had root beer floats and egg sandwiches waiting for the ferry. From the ferry we could see where we had walked, although the trail itself wasn't visible. We could see the clear felled patches that had been largely hidden from view on the trail. Once we started looking, we saw evidence of logging on almost every mountain! I hope the remaining areas of old growth are protected. 

We travelled all the way back to Vancouver then headed north to Squamish and found our B&B - a house with a lovely garden on a brook in the town that's nestled in the mountains. 

On Sunday we had a much needed day off and did some kit organisation and planning.

Monday we went on a multi-pitch climb with a guide. I'd heard about a huge rock / cliff in Squamish called the Chief and we were heading up its Apron. Connor got us kitted out and we walked and scrambled to the start of the climb. Even the climb itself was far from vertical and we could walk on hands and feet up the first pitch. Then along a seam, then up again, slightly steeper. My feet slipped on lichen covered patches a few times and I was a little scared but made it up without a fall.

On the third pitch, Dave skidded down a section on his feet and we had to pass each other awkwardly on the rock face for him to continue ahead of me. There was a tricky section that took me about four attempts but I managed to haul myself up it ungracefully to join Dave and Connor on a narrow ledge by some trees. The next three pitches were fun; we climbed cracks and seams between ledges until we reached a point where we could walk back down. The views from the top showed us Squamish river meeting the sea and kite surfers making the most of the sea breeze. The river was full of log rafts used by logging companies to transport timber. The scramble down was over boudlers in a big boulder field - they must have all fallen off the mountain at some point or been deposited by a glacier. The forest is strewn with them, from little ones to 50ft high ones!

So in the afternoon, we went out bouldering for a bit, enjoying the cool forest and rocky forest landscape. The climbs were pretty tricky and without a crash mat we didn't attempt much but it was a nice place to hang out and have lunch, in awe of the amazing climbers.

Tomorrow, we are going white water rafting before heading out on a two day trail for a hike and camp. 

Anna and Dave's adventure: part 1

So, it's been a while! And we've done a lot of stuff...

When Dave arrived, we hired a little Yaris and drove out to a cottage in Garden Bay on the Sunshine Coast. The weather was beautiful and we oggled the views from the ferry and the road on the way. It was evening by the time we got there and after a quick swim in the sea and dinner, it was the end of the day. 

The cottage was in a gorgeous location, the veranda overlooking the steep hillside and rocky coast below. There were bald eagles and hummingbirds and lush green forests. 

On Sunday we went for a colossal Canadian breakfast before going on a steep hike through the forest to an incredible viewpoint - the bays and islands below dotted with cabins and pleasure boats. 

When we got back to the cottage it was time to pack up ready for an early start on our kayak trip!

We got up just as the sky was getting light and caught the first ferry to continue our journey along the sunshine coast to Desolation Sound. The views of the mountains from the ferry at dawn were stunning; each mountain a different shade of green depending on the light, and shafts of sunrise light pouring out between the peaks. And the further we went, the fewer houses there were around.

At the other side, we drove until the road ran out at Lund, had lunch at a recommended bakery then went to the kayak hire shop. By the time we'd got our hire kit and loaded the boat, it was the afternoon and it was very hot. We paddled for an hour along the shore of a peninsula, looking at the intertidal life on the rocks and cliffs exposed by the tide. Seaweed, barnacles and mussels clinging to the rocks and purple starfish nestled into the crevices. We made a pit stop on some shady rocks to refuel then got back on the water. There were a few cabins along the shores, only accessible by air or water, and a few speed boats were zooming past.

After just over two hours, we came within sight of the campsite. This section was narrower and shallower and the tide was absolutely gushing through! We paddled like crazy to inch our way to the sheltered bay where we could get out and unload.

There were a few other groups of kayakers at the campsite and we got a tent pad in the merciful shade at the far end of the site with great views of the bay. Unloading on a rocky shore at low tide in the hot sun after a tough paddle is not the best and it was a slog getting the boat up above the high tide mark. Double kayaks are heavy! But we had the evening to chill out and make tasty dinner before an early night. I woke up in the night and the stars were incredible in the absence of any other lights anywhere. Even the moon was nowhere to be seen. I'm sure it was up in the day though... 

The next day we set out along the bay in the shade of the shore and enjoyed the forest views. There doesn't seem to be any soil, just trees growing straight out of rock or patches of moss. The trees are mostly pines and firs but with the occasional arbutus, a strange looking tree with three layers of bark - the outer layer brown, the middle layer red and the inner layer bright green. The layers peel off to reveal each other; you can hear them flaking off sometimes when the forest is quiet.

After lunch we had to cross 2.5km of open water to get to the Curme Islands. It was hot and hard work into the wind and I'm afraid I stopped paddling a few times and let Dave do more than his share of the work! But we arrived with the afternoon free to explore and after a swim in the sea and second lunch, put on our climbing shoes for a tour of our little island. 

The tide was out so there was plenty of rock to play on. We crunched our way over barnacles and seaweed near the water, enjoyed the bare rock near the high tide mark and put our fingers in crispy lichen-filled hand holds on the rocks above. It was so sunny and hot, we were absolutely baking in the afternoon heat! But the climbing was fun and we saw seals in the water. One seal was sunning on a rock with her pup, giving it a gentle scratch on the head. They were so sweet and we went over the top of the island for a bit so as not to disturb them. Then one precarious but exhilarating cliff face later, we were back at camp hot and dehydrated, ready for another swim to cool off.

The next day we paddled a different route back towards our first campsite, sticking to a shady shore and making good progress across the open water with the wind at our backs. It was a nice relaxed morning but I had a bit of a moan about having to sit in a wet boat in a restrictive life jacket and paddle with sore arms. My arms haven't done any work for months! 

We got back to the campsite, unloaded and went for a swim. Dave brought his goggles so we looked at starfish and sea urchins by the shore. There was even a spiny orange sea cucumber! We were the only ones at the campsite that night and it felt so different. It was peaceful but we were sure to take all possible bear precautions to avoid unwanted encounters! We had dinner, sorted all our kit, set the alarm for 5.30am and crashed out.