Top Ten Hikes

1. West Coast Trail

Number one on my wish list of prospective hikes would have to be the West Coast Trail. It's 75 kilometres of slippery, isolated trail, peppered with flooding, paralytic shellfish poisoning, bears, cougars and wolves. "Eighty to 100 seriously injured hikers are evacuated every season," according to Parks Canada. I think I'm getting too old, but I've heard stories about people my age or older hiking the trail. I want to tackle it this summer with a girlfriend (maybe two) and we would like to bring our guys, but we don't think they want to go. I'm trying to convince Betsy to go this summer, or, failing that, next summer at the latest. It looks like we may already be too late. Hikers must now make reservations and those reservations opened January 11--longer than a month ago! Maybe we're looking at next year after all.
Photo by Big A888 creative commons license: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/

2. Stawamus Chief 

I hiked the Stawamus Chief in my early 20s and I can't remember now which of the four available trails I was on. The following information comes from B.C. Parks:

• "First Peak: 1.5-kilometre trail with an elevation gain of 540 metres.
• Second Peak: 1.7-kilometre trail with an elevation gain of 590 metres.
• Third Peak: 1.8-kilometre trail with an elevation gain of 630 metres.
• To Shannon Falls: 1.5-kilometre hike from the Stawamus Parking Lot."

3. Sea to Sky Gondola

Early last fall on our way up to Whistler, we took a ride up  the Sea to Sky Gondola to the summit plaza and walked around at the top. I wouldn't describe that as a hike, but I saw a father and son come up the trail and asked them, enviously, how long it had taken them. They said an hour and a half. Figuring that the two fit-looking men probably move faster than I do, it would probably take me two hours (less with Betsy because she pushes me). It's $10 a person to take the Gondola back down. I can even bring my dog!

4. Grouse Grind 

I think I was in my 30s when I climbed the Grouse Grind with a couple of friends. It's another ride-the-gondola-back-down kind of trail, but I can't bring my dog. Warnings on the Grouse Grind website state that other trails might better suit the average hiker. At 2.9 kilometres and 853 metres in elevation gain, it's three times the elevation gain over roughly the same distance as Teapot Hill, my regular hike. It should be possible to make it over to North Vancouver this summer.

5. Elk Mountain 

I've climbed Elk Mountain a number of times, but not for a couple of years. Elk is eight kilometres in length and 630 metres in elevation gain, making it a challenging hike, but not, apparently as challenging as Grouse, which, according to the statistics, is much steeper. The reward at the top of Elk is views all over the Fraser Valley and Chilliwack River Valley. The reason Elk is five is because I think I can reasonably do this trail this summer. It's pretty close to home. That's me in the photo standing on the peak. I'm not completely comfortable with the drop into infinity.

6. Mount Cheam

Last summer, Mt. Waddington's Outdoors organized a number of hikes up Mount Cheam. For reasons that don't seem clear to me right now, but probably relate to being too busy, I didn't go. The elevation gain is715 metres over 4.2 kilometres, according to Club Tread. This summer, it's on my list.
Photo by Tim Gage creative commons license https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

 

7. Slesse Memorial Trail

The site of a 1956 plane crash, there's a propeller from the plane permanently installed as a memorial to those killed in the crash on what is now the Slesse Memorial trail.  See some great photos of the debris field on this Club Tread page.

8. Cholqthet and Pi:txel trails

They look easy, but I'd still like to try out the new trails the Chilliwack Park Society has built near my neighbourhood. Selectively logged 100 years ago and mostly forgotten until now, the 100-acre parcel could link Chilliwack communities of Popkum, Marble Hill and Ryder Lake and lead up to the Elk-Thurston trail, according to The Chilliwack Progress.

 

9. East Coast Trail

My father was born in Newfoundland and I grew up hearing stories about this place, told by relatives who all had the Newfie accent. They talked about icebergs, kitchen parties and snow up over the doorways, but they never talked about the East Coast Trail. if I ever go to Newfoundland, I want to hike this trail. It's near the bottom of my list because it feels like it won't be happening in the near future.
Photo by picknic creative commons license: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

10. Pacific Crest Trail

The Pacific Crest Trail is the trail I'm least likely to ever hike, but it is still a trail I want to cross off my list. I admit that I would never have even known about this trail if it were not for Cheryl Strayed and her book (haven't read it yet), which was turned into the movie Wild starring Reese Witherspoon. A trail is a great place to work out your demons and Cheryl Strayed had lots of them, Probably it would be a hard enough trail to work out all of my issues as well.

Always new on the same old trail

I know the point of this blog is to try out new trails, but most of the time I find myself on Teapot Hill. The trees look different every time, even though I should know this hill like the back of my hand. I love hiking in the mist. It's like being in a cloud. Everything looks different. Is there ever a place that you can see anytime you close your eyes?

I know I shouldn't hike alone, but there were plenty of people on Teapot Sunday afternoon and it didn't even rain. As I started up the trail, I noticed a woman behind me and thought that she was one of the regulars. She always hikes alone. She caught up and passed me, moving very fast. From the amount of grey in her ponytail, I guessed she must be about my age. She was faster than Betsy, who kills me every time. I tried to keep up to her and found myself doing the kind of breathing I do when I'm hiking with Betsy. Both of us passed groups of younger people, which is not at all unusual. I tried to keep the woman in sight, but lost her half-way up the hill. When I got to the top, she was starting down. There's no way to know how long she stayed at the top, but she was definitely faster than me.
The question is: why don't I get any faster? I seem to have reached my maximum. Why is Betsy always faster than me? Is it inevitably downhill on the downhill side of the hill?

Crocuses in the Rain

Trinity and I got soaked yesterday walking in a downpour on Bridlewood trail near home. When I got home, I was soaked right through my pants and shoes, but my waterproof rain jacket had done its thing. The best part of the walk was spotting lilac crocuses by a trail marker. It's February!

Terror on the Green Run

I tried a new snowy trail this week--the Wagon Trail run in Manning. Randy had told me stories about how people learning to ski were up on the regular runs by the end of the first day, while I had spent four days on the bunny hill. So, after a couple of bunny hops, we shuffled over to the blue chair. The orange chair wasn't running due to high winds, so the blue chair was busy for a weekday. I had picked Friday to go because I thought it would be the least busy day of the long weekend, and it probably was. Still, there was a lineup.

When it was our turn, Randy told the ski lift operators that it was my first time. They slowed the lift and I heard a woman grumble behind me. I thought I heard the lift operator tell me to ski up to the line, but what he actually said was "when you go, ski up to the line." Too late. The ski operators waved their hands and shouted "don't go." I skied off to the left, hoping I was out of the way of the chair. They stopped the lift and we got on the chair.
The woman behind me grumbled again. We were up and the view was magical. I twisted around, taking pictures, and my water bottle fell out of my pocket. The woman behind started yelling at us about a $5,000 fine. Clearly, Randy would have to go and get the water bottle. Randy told me to keep my ski tips up as we approached the top of the hill. "Stand up," he said, and I hesitated. Then I stood up and dropped about a foot to the ground, racing off and falling, hitting my head on the packed snow beside the lift. Eventually, they stopped the chair again. Pure rage flooded through me as Randy said "I told you to stand up." I was surrounded by ski operators who seemed concerned. I noticed the grumbling woman did not stop to see if I was okay. Now I know why there's information on the ski park website about recommended helmets. Falling repeatedly on the bunny hill made me wonder why anyone would need a helmet. I fall in the snow. Big deal, right?
I took off my skis and told Randy to go and get the water bottle (and his sunglasses, which had also fallen) while I calmed down. I had time to watch the crazy skiers head toward what looked like oblivion,while Randy flew down an unintended black diamond run. Eventually the ski patrol came over and asked me if I was all right because I had been standing there for a while. I told him I had hit my head and asked if he had the training to check for concussion. He checked me and told me I was fine, and asked if I was all right to ski. I was feeling out of my depth and a bit nauseated, but put the latter down to being shaken up by falling. When Randy came back, we started off for the easiest run.

Right away it was too steep for me. The run was narrow to my eyes. It looked like I was going to fall over a cliff and into the trees. Some guys near us were joking about how old one of their party was. "He's going to be 40 and hasn't been up for a while," one said, pointing to another. Randy told them it was my first time ever. I am substantially older than 40. The guys told me I was going to be fine. "You got this," they said. Not so much. By the time I got around the first corner I fell on my face in the snow and cried like a baby for 10 minutes. My breathing came hard and fast. Then a little girl, about five or six years old, came around the corner and fell on her face in the snow and cried. "I hear you sister!"
Randy told me it was no steeper than the hardest part of the bunny hill, but I did not believe him. What skills and confidence I had were gone. It took me two-and-a-half hours, with plenty of coaching from Randy, to get down to the bottom. I knew I didn't have the ability to turn or stop exactly when I wanted to. Nearing the bottom, Randy said we should go again. No way. He didn't realize it was only minutes before the hill closed for the day. There was just enough time for him to take a run. I waited at the bottom of the hill.

It wasn't until I was about half an hour outside of Hope that the first headache hit me. It was so powerful that I had to pull over. We were out of cell range, away from civilization. There was no one to help out here. Cars racing past wouldn't know we were in trouble. I drove to Hope as Randy told me I was just stressed. I followed the signs to the hospital. Unbelievably, we were processed and waiting for a doctor in about 10 minutes. Were we really still in B.C.? I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
A nurse brought me two Tylenol and two Ibuprofen. All that? Really? I took them and we waited. Several ambulances came in. Hope is located at the confluence of the Fraser and Coquihalla rivers between Merritt heading into B.C.'s Interior, Princeton, heading towards the Kootenays, and the Lower Mainland. You have to get through Hope to get pretty much anywhere else, so one would expect the Fraser Canyon Hospital to be busy. When the doctor did see me, he told me I had a concussion. He wasn't too worried about me because the impact had been longer than four hours before. It wasn't the best time to teach Randy to drive a standard and we couldn't find one of my sons, so I drove home. When I got home, I saw that the information sheet from the hospital said I shouldn't drive. Oops.
It's definitely time to teach Randy to drive a standard--and to buy a helmet. Anyone know of a sale on ski helmets?