Some of you may recognize this as the Patullo Bridge, which spans the mighty Fraser River between Surrey and New Westminster - some of you may actually have read about Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah and me crossing this bridge a couple of years ago - but this time around, this bridge was just the beginning of different kind of adventure.
With Steve at the wheel, two kiddies in the back seat, me in the passenger seat with Charlie on my lap, and a trunk full of camping gear, the little Chevy Cobalt didn't know what was ahead. The views were lovely, a sparkling Howe Sound and snow capped mountains - this was the Sea to Sky Highway, and we were heading to the scenic area between Shannon Falls and Cat Lake - in other words, Squamish.
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This is probably one of the west coast's most famous landmarks - The Chief. Its proper name is Stawamus Chief, and although many people have climbed to the top, I had no intention of doing so, not even a little bit.
We did, however, plan on visiting Shannon Falls. I tried to get a pic from the moving car, but was a bit unsuccessful. No problem though - we would come back and walk up there after lunch. Nothing like a nice leisurely stroll through the forest on a pretty April day. One would think.
We headed to the town of Squamish for a Mountain Burger, as Steve thought we might need the extra boost of protein and carbs to get through the next few harrowing hours. Steve and Chris went in to order take-out - Lizzie and I stayed in the car with Charlie. After hours (it seemed) we drove the huge bag of aroma back to Shannon Falls park for a picnic.
It was a bit chilly, and I had to go back to the car for my jacket. Just a friendly reminder that it is not summer yet, no matter how pretty the sky looks.
These two fussy eaters had no trouble demolishing their cheeseburgers, which was a good thing as dinner would be pretty late. Sometimes it's hard to start a fire in the rain. Just sayin'.
The park is in a beautiful setting. (I only now noticed the hair on that gal on the left. Wow.)
Poor Charlie. He wanted his own burger but had to share mine. He does not like the car much, but he sure loves the destinations!
The trail to the Falls starts out pretty gently.
Lots of photo ops for the two young'uns. Meanwhile, Steve and Charlie were way up ahead, so we had to do lots of catch-up. He takes after his dad in some ways.
Mmmm. Looks like maybe a bit of elevation in my future.
But so much colour and texture, thanks to Nature.
Some Shannon Falls. Just spectacular.
But this was just the first lookout. Aren't most of us just a happy looking bunch?
Stairs. Oh well. What are a few stairs to someone who always walks up escalators?
I was so thankful for any excuse to stop and rest my burning thigh muscles. I just adore old rotten tree trunks. Really.
More water falls ....
It's really hard to capture the beauty of a waterfall, at least when I'm behind the camera. The roar and the spray .... God can make much more than trees. Wow. Splendor. This was on the third lookout (I think.) So now it was time to go downhill.
Lizzie and her heart-shaped rock.
Chris and his stick.
I figured I'd better move a bit faster before this happened to me .... but I love the moss on the trees.
And on another path we went. This one we hoped would lead to the Upper Shannon Falls trail, and I didn't really want to think much about that, but am game for anything. Obviously.
We weren't that far behind .... pant pant puff .... and it's pretty level here anyway, just lots of cool things to look at. Forest and moss and stuff. You know.
Hmm. Sometimes two paths do diverge, and it is tough to decide which one to take. Since we saw another couple skirt this orange fence because they said it would cut 20 minutes off .... we followed. Did I mention this was a young couple? I'm not even close.
Sort of kind-off steps built in.
But not everywhere. Chris and I would stop and let people pass. He was kind enough to wait with the old un - Steve, Lizzie (the mountain goatess) and Charlie were way ahead.
The more we climbed ..... the more the awesomeness got. (Great grammar, I know, but who cares?) However, we soon came to the spot where this trail joined to the trail going up the Chief. We (I) didn't realize the Upper Shannon Falls trail branched off the Chief's trail way farther up. But what the heck ....
After walking up about 5000 stairs, we come to this lookout point ....
When I realized this was just the beginning of the climb, I wimped out and said No more, no more, my legs are sore, my knees both ache .... for goodness sake. (Well, I didn't say that out loud. I'm not one to complain.) So we head down these stairs .... Chris and I head to the parking lot at the base of the Chief, and Steve and Lizzie head back to Shannon Falls parking lot to pick up the car and rescue us.
No Shit, Sherlock.
So now it was to find a place to camp for the night. We found the turnoff for Cat Lake, just a little dirt road to a provincial park. We hadn't really decided to camp at a park, but parked in the lot for a walk around the water.
Camping there would have meant lugging all our gear down hill, and hauling all the food related stuff back to the car before settling down for the night. It's not a good idea to have bacon and granola bars in or near your tent in bear country, so I'm told. However, our minds got pretty made up when the first view of the lake also included a bunch of teenagers with a slew of tents, an assault of music, and a lot of coolers filled with whatever one fills coolers with when you're far away from your parents.
Lizzie had to go to the Ladies Room, so I went back with her. Yes, these hole in the ground ones with God knows how many creatures lurking under the seat. Thank heavens I never had the urge.
By the time we caught up to the guys, they were (or were trying to) skip rocks on the water.
We jumped onto this floating jetty. Sometimes I wish my camera was always on duty, for I would have loved to have a picture of Lizzie when she sat on the end ....
... and decided to let her feet hang down. Up to her ankles in Cat Lake water. Oops.
Not only did Steve help Chris bridge the gap between shore and jetty ...
... he also offered to toss him in. Chris wasn't very impressed.
In fact, no one seemed very thrilled about the jetty adventure.
Poor Lizzie.
Oh well, So much for the lake. We hopped aboard the car again and headed up the road. Which turned into a logging road. Which had a sign saying that this particular logging road was not being tended to. Which meant potholes and gullies and god knows what. Remember, we were in a Chevy Cobalt. I'm sure all the 4x4s and trucks were really impressed.
We finally found our spot to camp. It was just before we reached an impossible for our car to cross washout across the road, but after a 15-point turnaround on a narrow 'road' with mountains on one side and gully on the other (which happened to be my side) we headed back to our spot.
First thing was to raise the tents. This didn't look quite right.
But thanks to Steve's know how, we soon had our bedrooms already for night time. My major priority was to have them close to the car so we'd be able to dart into safety when the bears came by.
Meanwhile, we kept hearing this really weird noise in the woods on the other side of the road. This was on the valley side, so we knew whatever monster was whooo whoooo whooo whoo oo oo whooing wouldn't be able to reach us without us hearing it clamber through the trees, but it was still very unsettling. And no, it wasn't an owl. It was definitely some kind of wildlife animal, possibly even a Sasquatch. The fact that it was a very consistent call and lasted all evening wasn't reassuring - anything that had the stamina to produce such a loud and terrifying noise was no doubt a terrifying creature. (It did stop after dark, though, so we were just hoping it had settled down in its den for the night.)
Road looking up from our camp ...
Road looking down from our camp. We scavenged both sides for downfall branches, sticks, etc for our fire. You wouldn't believe how much fuel we'd need to feed a fire until bedtime, aka as dark. Steve does have a wonderful lantern, but it stayed back home in the garage. Alongside his folding saw.
Path to the bathroom, which raises another question: Do grandmas pee in the woods? Well, I'd rather pee in the woods than use these roadside/park outhouses with cavernous pits staring up at my butt. One must just remember to face uphill and spread out these feet. All is good.
Meanwhile, back at the base, it was time to get a fire going. This was about the time the first rain shower started.
Coaxing that little flame. Our little rack is all ready to cook our evening meal.
Believe me, where there's smoke there isn't necessarily fire.
But finally! Nailed it!
Meanwhile, a cold little girl with cold wet feet waited patiently for heat.
... and her sneakers and socks were the first things on the grill. Along with the butter. Reminder to self: Next time bring Becel.
Steve prepared the wienies, and I got the Heinz beans in the pot ....
Because the lantern was back in Surrey, and we had to save enough firewood for the morning, we headed into our tents before it got really dark. The fact that it was pissing down rain made it impossible to count the thousands of stars we knew were hanging in the sky, anyway.
So we drifted off to the sound of a thousand raindrops on the roof of our tent, and awoke about 6am when a kind person roaring by in his vehicle tooted the horn just so we'd know he was up and at'em while we were sleeping the day away. And of course he awoke the monster in the woods too.
So I woke this little monster, but about an hour later.
At this point I checked the temperature on my phone - it was a lovely balmy 2 degrees. No wonder I was frigging frozen, my sleeping bag was only meant for 5 degrees. Brrrr. When I reached for my jacket, I found it at my feet - against the edge of the tent. Great. Wet jacket.
However, not to be deterred by anything as trivial as hypothermia, I asked Steve to help haul me to my feet (remember yesterday's hike?), wrapped a Lions' blankie around my shoulders, and headed to the washroom. Steve, meanwhile, got the fire going again.
We just needed a little fire to heat up hot chocolate water and perc some campfire coffee.
By now the temp had risen considerably, and there was lots of traffic heading up country with dirt bikes and skidoos, making Steve incredibly wishful. Everyone waved at us going by, and of course we waved back.
Some gave us the peace sign - Lizzie asked what the two fingers meant. Steve told her. Then she asked What do three fingers mean? And Steve said, It means Read between the lines. I don't think she got it. I did though. I am still smrt.
And we were lucky enough to actually see some wildlife! Besides the monster in the forest, we had heard the flutter of a big bird's wings last night, and I heard it very close to my tent early this morning. I figured it might have been a buzzard checking to see if the bears had left any parts, but Steve said big birds don't flutter their wings. Makes sense. Most big birds I see glide.
This slug drew in his horns when I took his picture, guess he was camera shy. I did go looking for him while I was drinking my coffee, but couldn't find him. Maybe he's on the bottom of my shoe ... or heaven forbid, in one of our sleeping bags.
Ooooh, coffee. A bit weak, but who knows how much coffee goes into a percolator? I use a Tassimo.. Doesn't everyone?
The hot chocolate, however, got rave reviews.
I'm hoping this video works - it's a short clip of part of our journey back to civilization. I was holding the phone very still - but the road was incredibly bumpy. The driver was incredible. If I had to drive down I would have just sat on the side of the road and cried.
And of course - what better way to end a wilderness adventure but with a stop at the Golden Arches ....
... and a Sausage and Egg McMuffin ... and a real coffee!
Huge thanks to Steve for an amazing weekend. Huge thanks to Penny for covering for me at work.
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