Remember the Elaho

It survived for nearly a thousand years. Think about that. Ten centuries. The Elaho Giant, one of the largest and oldest Douglas firs ever to live in British Columbia, lived at least nine and a half of those centuries in complete solitude. After all that, it managed to escape being cut down in the 1990s, when the Elaho Valley was the site of bitter conflict over proposed logging.  Additionally, the building of a route which traversed the Elaho to the Meager Creek Valley was forged, which later helped lead to the designation of the area as the Stoltmann Wilderness, named after noted conservationist Randy Stoltmann.

The spectacular Elaho Giant in 2007

Years later, in June of 2015, a dry spring season took its toll, as a wildfire tore through the upper end of the valley. Though the grove of firs at the Elaho-Meager trailhead was spared, the Elaho Giant was caught in the midst of the tragedy, and rumour had that it  was burned beyond recognition. When a group of fire fighters who had battled the blaze reached the tree, they declared that it had miraculously been saved! Some limbs and branches were alive and green, they said, and though the trunk was charred, that seemed to be the only real damage.

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A look at the area, showing our ultimate destination. This is taken from an old Western Canada Wilderness Committee map. Due to a washout at Cesna Creek, the trail still remains inaccessible and has been for a very long time

Now, turn back your clocks to November of 2007. My only visit to the Elaho Valley was a brief one, featuring a lengthy day that featured enough torrential rain to put any set of windshield wipers to the ultimate test. The principals? Two guys willing to hunt trees in any given deluge, and that would be Chris, and me. We really wanted to see the Elaho Giant, and besides, what else would we be doing on such an inhospitable day? Armed with Chris’s trusty Jeep Cherokee, raingear, salty snacks, and a Backroads Mapbook, we were off!

Of all the day’s views, this would become the most familiar of all. It’s a long drive from North Vancouver to the Elaho Valley!

You must reach the Elaho Valley by making your way up to Squamish via Highway 99, then by following the Squamish FSR to its junction with the Elaho FSR. From there, it’s a question of driving about as far north as the rough roads take you! Even on an unpleasant day, the valley’s character somehow shines brightly. It is the gateway to an endless, rugged wilderness that few people choose to explore. It’s also remote enough that help is a long way away, and should you venture there you should be prepared and self sufficient.

As rainy an autumn day as you will see in the Squamish Valley!

The drive is more than long enough to immerse yourself in all manner of thoughts and conversation. What’s more, it’s male time to hone your imitation of nearly every Simpsons character, if that’s your thing! There was much to see, from shrouded views of jagged mountains and swiftly rushing creeks, to glimpses of glaciers and trees turned brilliant autumn colours in the icy November rain.


We did make one brief stop in the Squamish Valley to check out Huberts Creek, of particular interest to Chris and his love of canyoneering. Among my aspirations were spotting one of the transplanted herds of elk, or perhaps even one of the many grizzlies that call the Elaho home!

Huberts Creek. I don’t think Chris ever did descend its canyon, but come to think of it I never did ask him that!
The mighty Elaho River, very popular with rafters and white water kayakers
The roadside waterfall of Maude Frickert Creek
I took a photo of this sign so I would never forget the name Blakeney Creek
Blakeney Creek. Beautiful, mysterious, and fed by the glaciers high above on Exodus Peak and the Pemberton Icefield
Clendinning Provincial Park and its rugged wilderness is also accessed from the Elaho roads


As we bounced further up the valley, it was decided we’d first check out the Elaho- Meager Trail and its grove of ancient Douglas firs before doubling back to see the Elaho Giant on our return trip. Other than the rain, the trip was relatively uneventful, and we rolled quietly to a stop, right beside the trailhead. The view from the nearby bridge over Sundown Creek is something everyone should see!

Sundown Creek roaring down its canyon


Even by then, the trail had become pretty much inaccessible. A major flood had destroyed a makeshift crossing over Cesna Creek, making it impassable, and as a consequence the trail fell into disuse. With the limited time we had, the plan was to explore the grove and see how far we could get along the main trail before turning around. The first thing we did was to walk the Douglas Fir Route, which is a 2 km loop through an extraordinary and venerable forest. There has been some conjecture about the age of this stand, but some core samples taken from other trees in the area suggest some may be as old as 1300 years. In any event, we weren’t disappointed, as the firs were inspiring to see!

The thick bark of ancient firs is unmistakeable
So much to discover!
So what do you do when a tree falls in the forest?
We just make it part of the trail!

The firs in the grove were immense in girth, with many over eight feet in diameter. Old growth Douglas Fir is becoming an increasingly rare sight in British Columbia, where most of it has already been logged. Growing conditions in the Elaho have certainly been ideal over the years, and as proof the forest here thrives very well.

Pseudotsuga Menzieszi, the Douglas Fir
There were many healthy trees that looked to be over 250 feet high, though height estimation is challenging when the rain is pouring so hard!
Yet another giant
After a while, we got used to the rain. That was easy, as we’ve had plenty of practice!
If there’s one photo that sums up this day best, this just might be the one!

Though we only scratched the surface of this wilderness, it was easy to see why people worked so hard to save it. The Elaho-Meager trail had always been at nature’s mercy, inasmuch as the very forces that make it desirable have also served to caused its isolation. In recent years, the Meager Creek access has also been affected due to landslides and volcanic instability.  The long and the short of it? Now one of the most scenic trails in the province is unable to be enjoyed for the time being. There are no plans to repair the washout at Cesna Creek.



Having seen the trees, we now moved on to the main trail, which was, surprisingly, able to be followed quite reasonably. It led us through more old growth forest and a rocky, exposed area that looked a lot like a manicured rock garden.

It seemed as though every rock had been carefully placed, somehow
Delicate mosses and lichens
This clearing led to the forest beyond, but soon we began our hike back to the trailhead
Our turnaround spot, as the rain intensified!

Once we turned around, it was a fairly short jaunt back to the Jeep, where again we studied the maps. According to the Backroads Mapbook, the Elaho Giant looked as though it was within shouting distance of the road. It took us just another twenty minutes to locate, and fortunately at the time, the forest nearby had also been spared from logging.

The shadowy Elaho Giant was a standout on the dreariest of days


We had expected quite a battle to find this tree!
An unforgettable tree


The bark of the Elaho Giant

Well, it’s said that all good things must come to an end. An optimist by nature, I’m always reluctant to admit that, but I do understand that life has no guarantees. Our brief sojourn into the Elaho Valley ended several hours later, jarred by the reality of returning to the all too familiar signs of civilization. The downpour persisted, as though it felt the need to escort us, and we managed a few stops on the way that almost helped ease us back into humanity, as it were.

Squamish River
A last look
Cliffs below Cloudburst Mountain

The Elaho Giant, years later, was not as fortunate as we were. Its roots, thought only to be badly charred in that fire of June 2015, were later found to have incinerated, as it was  discovered in 2016 that the tree had finally died. A life of  a thousand years in such an idyllic place must certainly have been fulfilling, but I could not help wishing the tree had lived longer.  I did, however, take solace in knowing that its birthplace remains wild and untamed. Twelve years have passed since that cold and rainy November day in 2007, and though we’ve yet to return, I will always remember the Elaho.


******* Author’s Note *******

In my search for any kind of report on the Elaho- Meager hike, I came across but one good representation of what it’s like from a two people who managed to do it before the Cesna Creek washout. Thanks to Trudel and Andre for telling this story, which for all intents and purposes may not be duplicated for a while!

Dedicated to John Mann, lead singer of Spirit of the West, who lost his battle with dementia today, on November 20, 2019, at the age of 57. Live life well, you never know how long you’ve got! Thanks for the memories, John.





The Trouble With Joffre, Part Two

Welcome to the rest of the story! In Part One, I spent some time outlining the problems that have befallen Joffre Lakes Provincial Park. Things such as overcrowding, mismanagement, and poor behaviour from the hiking community have combined to propel the park into crisis mode. The question still looms: Can we fix what’s wrong? I believe the answer is a resounding yes, and here’s why…

In 2019, British Columbia Parks decided that all camping at Upper Joffre Lake would now be placed on the reservation system. They also took steps to manage the parking problem in Cayoosh Pass by creating a shuttle stop further up the highway which would serve to relieve congestion somewhat. Parking at roadside on the highway is now strictly prohibited, and they have also created more spaces in the parking lot. While the overall budget for parks has increased little with the change to an NDP government, at least some of the complaints have been heard and acted upon. At last check, the number of park rangers still needed to be addressed, but patrols were definitely being increased . A decision has also been made to ban dogs from the park trails. 

Slalok Mountain and the Stonecrop Glacier reflected in Lower Joffre Lake

So what remains to be solved? Well, the paramount issue of too many day hikers during the summer months has been ignored up to this point. The simple fact is that the sheer number of people places an inordinate strain on the environment, and it’s likely that both a quota and a permit system should be required during the busiest months, at the very least. Permit charges could be used to fund park rangers, infrastructure, and  maintenance. The outhouses are in terrible condition, and require more frequent attention. Additionally, our tourism promoters need to join B.C.Parks in promoting “Leave No Trace” protocol and help to educate park users about correct hiking etiquette.

Paintbrush in Cayoosh Pass

Since the first few paragraphs here have been controversial, why not switch gears and return you to the mountains again? It is through showcasing the beauty of the park that we can not only share it with others, but also encourage its preservation. Joffre Lakes Provincial Park is a place that future generations ought to be able to enjoy!

Sunset glow as seen from Cayoosh Pass, 2012

It was another four years before I returned to Joffre Lakes. On that occasion, Doug and I were hoping to climb Mt Taylor, the 2318m peak which lies on the northwestern boundary of the park. The standard approach was identical to the one I had taken for Tszil Mountain back in 2008, so I also had the added benefit of being familiar with the route.

The last light of sunset over Mt Chief Pascall

Once again, we chose a day in July for the climb and planned to camp nearby in Cayoosh Pass so we could get a jump on the crowds. The weather was ideal on the drive up Highway 99 that afternoon. We knew that there was a good chance rain was on its way the next day, but we were both in need of a day in the mountains so we decided to roll the dice. We spent a fine evening enjoying just about everything, with the possible exception of the mosquitoes!

Unfortunately, the morning brought with it the expected rain, so the decision was made to forego climbing Mt Taylor. As long as we were there, however, we figured there’d be no harm in hiking the trail up to the lakes. That turned out to be a great idea, as the weather served to deter all but the hardiest hikers, so we actually experienced very little traffic. The rain hardly dampened our spirits, as we knew we would return on a sunnier day.

A rushing Joffre Creek


Even on a dreary day, Upper Joffre Lake is a standout!
A quiet moment on the Joffre Lakes Trail
Rain on the lake
Doug getting a photo

As it happened, that sunnier day came about a year later, as once again, Doug and I set up camp in Cayoosh Pass on an evening in July of 2013. Again the clouds of mosquitoes tried to deter us, but we came well prepared for their shenanigans. About the only inconvenience was mastering the art of drinking beer through bug nets but we were up to the task!

Sunset over Cayoosh Pass and Mt Chief Pascall

The next morning, we could see promising blue skies, and set out early for the trailhead. When we arrived, there were very few hikers around, and the only ones we met on the way up were campers on their way down from Upper Joffre Lake.

Matier and Joffre and blue skies as we broke camp in July of 2013
The always impressive Slalok Mountain as seen from Lower Joffre Lake
Morning at Joffre Creek
Mt Taylor reflections on Middle Joffre Lake

In order to climb Mt Taylor, you hike to that col it shares with Tszil Mountain then cross over to its opposite side, where you pick up a rough track that leads onto Taylor’s southeast ridge. Once we attained that ridge, no technical difficulties were anticipated, and that turned out to be mostly true.

More Paintbrush, one of my favourite wildflowers
I’m often shocked to see photos of people posing at the snouts of glaciers like this one, where seracs weighing tons routinely detach themselves without notice. Please, heed the warnings and keep a safe distance away!
Tszil Mountain on that bright and sunny day
Doug working his way up to the col
Southeast ridge of Mt Taylor
Getting closer to the summit now

The panoramas that unfolded as we climbed were impressive. Towering mountains and glaciers could be seen on every horizon, with resplendent lakes shimmering below. To call the views memorable seems woefully inadequate, but then, that’s why I carry a camera!

A different look at the icefall showing the crevasses, some of which are quite intimidating
Rock Phlox
Duffey Peak
Wedge Mountain over in Garibaldi Provincial Park
Joffre Peak over the shoulder of Slalok Mountain. You can really see how much the glacier has receded in the last 20 years. The icefall used to reach all the way down to Upper Joffre Lake
Cayoosh Mountain. I almost climbed this peak back in 2010, which is a decent story in itself
The North Joffre Creek Valley
Another look at Duffey Peak and the sea of mountains beyond
Phacelia sericea , sometimes known as Silk Leaf Sky Pilot, is a showy perennial species of Phacelia endemic to western North America. I have found it at elevations of up to 2900m
Summit panorama from Mt Taylor
Cassiope and Saxifrage over in the Spetch Creek Valley.
The compelling Upper Joffre Lake
I could not get enough of this particular view!

Between eating lunch and taking photos, we ended up taking nearly an hour on the summit, an unusual amount of time for us! With the warmth of the wind and no weather systems expected, we felt no need to rush, though I did recall there was a possibility of thunderstorms forecast for later in the day. It was just after 1 pm when we began our trek homeward, and it occurred to us we hadn’t seen another person for about four hours.


After retracing our steps down the ridge, we were soon back on the snowfield, where the winds blew more briskly through the pass. Normally I’m strongly apprehensive when descending a mountain, because that’s when accidents tend to happen, but in this case all I remember feeling was calmness. I found myself daydreaming about how First Nations people might have experienced this valley centuries before. In some ways little has changed, in other ways, the change has been overwhelming.

Clouds begin to form above the valley as we descended in the shadow of Mt Taylor
Another look at the Matier Glacier, and a sober reminder that glacial ice on our planet is disappearing at an alarming rate
Looking back at Slalok Mountain

When we reached Upper Joffre Lake, we were soon jolted back to reality by the throngs of  people milling about. It occurred to me at the time that the popularity of these lakes was gaining momentum very swiftly! Aside from dodging hikers along the way, we made good time heading for the trailhead, as storm clouds began to build rapidly. It looked, for a time, that those lightning storms might just materialize after all, but they never did. Soon enough, we were back at the truck tackling the most difficult part of the day: somehow escaping the parking lot! It had been, without a doubt, a highly satisfying adventure.

Enjoying the falls on Joffre Creek on the newer trail section BC Parks built back in 2010, I believe
Sometimes nature gives you a pretty strong hint that it’s time to end the hike or take cover, like this one! Mt Matier towers above the icefall here, encased in a sinister looking cloud

In order to salvage Joffre Lakes Provincial Park, the hiking community must take on more responsibility. It’s unfair to blame everything on the government when we can help solve a lot of the problems ourselves. How can we do this? There are many answers, but one is paramount: the promotion of “Leave No Trace” practices in the wilderness! If you’re looking to learn about these principles, you might want to follow my friend Taryn, who serves as Mountain Equipment Co-op’s Leave No Trace ambassador. We were all novice hikers at one time, after all, and today there are plenty of good sources available that can educate you on how to treat the wilderness. Knowledge is power!

Why not encourage people to pack out what they pack in? We all know that leaving waste and garbage is wrong, so why do we still see this happen? I find it nearly incomprehensible that anyone who would wish to savour nature’s glories would leave their trash there, but this has become a chronic problem. Recently, local Vancouver hiking group CROSSNA devoted considerable time to collecting and carrying out refuse from Joffre Lakes, and the results were shocking, to say the least. We can encourage stewardship through our hiking clubs and media, and promote proper practices in our tourist industry as well. All it will take is education, and execution. That’s not much to ask to ensure that places like Joffre Lakes Provincial Park remain our sanctuaries rather than become victims of our own reprehensible behaviour. It’s time for everyone to work together and do the right thing!

CROSSNA hiking club, along with BC Parks, volunteered time on a cleanup of Joffre Lakes. This is the kind of effort we need from the outdoor community!..thanks to Gloria Z for this photo


****************************Author’s Note*************************

In 2019, there were at least two significant landslides on Joffre Peak. This has affected access to the park via Cerise Creek and may possibly do so in the future. The access via Joffre Lakes Trail has not been compromised at this time. Keep apprised of safety bulletins regarding the area, as conditions may be subject to change. Some additional perspective offered in the article here

As you can see here, a massive section of the mountain has broken away on Joffre Peak



The Trouble With Joffre, Part One

You’ve no doubt heard the story by now. It’s one of overcrowding, lack of planning, and the abysmal management of a natural treasure. With all of the current controversy regarding Joffre Lakes Provincial Park, sometimes it’s hard to remember that it ‘s also one of the most idyllic places in all of southwestern British Columbia. This park, located at the summit of Cayoosh Pass, is just north of  Pemberton on Highway 99. The turquoise lakes, glaciers, and towering peaks make it popular year round, but the summers are when it’s busy beyond description.

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So exactly what happened to cause all the issues? Well, with the advent of social media, the expansion of the Sea to Sky Highway, and the excessive promotion of tourism, came a huge influx of visitors. When you combine that with the destruction of the old trail in favour of a wider gravel path, and a zero dollar increase in parks management funding over the last fifteen years, what you have is a recipe for disaster. Long before the ridiculous and sometimes unruly crowds, however, Joffre Lakes was a markedly different place to visit. Even if you turn back the clock a mere dozen years, the park was a far more pleasant experience, though even then there were clear signs of change. Well, if you’ve been of the mind that a place this overrun just isn’t worth seeing, then continue reading and I’ll try to illustrate why you might want to rethink that resolve!

It was in July of 2008 when I finally found my way to Joffre Lakes Provincial Park. I had heard it could be a bit crazy in the sunnier months, so I’d avoided it mostly for that reason. Most of the people I knew in the hiking world had already spent plenty of time there by then. It was an overnight stay in the parking lot and a trek to the 2377m summit of Mt Tszil that served to change all of that for me. I arrived on an early July evening to meet up with Ted and Denis, who were climbing nearby Saxifrage Mountain earlier that day. Once there, I spent a lot of time rambling back and forth to Lower Joffre Lake just to photograph the mountains and glaciers as the sun began to set. The parking lot had but nine other vehicles in it, which is unimaginable by today’s standards.

Sun shining through the trees!


Evening at Lower Joffre Lake
Mt Matier and the Matier Glacier, with the shoulder of Slalok at right


Look at all that glacial ice!
Lower Joffre Lake reflections
Cassiope and Saxifrage in the Spetch Creek Valley, where Ted and Denis had just spent their day


Slalok Mountain alpenglow

The guys arrived around 10 pm, a bit tired and short a couple of pints of blood courtesy of the hordes of mosquitoes in the Spetch Creek Valley! We hung around shooting the breeze and enjoying a couple of cold beers before settling in for the night. We knew we’d be starting out very early the next morning.

Arising early to make coffee, I found the clouds had closed in and the bugs had now come out in full force. During the night the valley had chilled and we awoke to clouds of mist swirling in the parking lot. The weather was expected to clear as the day wore on, as we geared up for what was sure to be a long trek. Soon Denis and Ted were ready to go, and a short while later we were hiking the beautiful trail up the Joffre Creek Valley. Rolling fog and cooler temperatures made for fast travel, and on the way I enjoyed the Kendal Mint Cake Ted had brought up for me!

At Lower Joffre Lake the sun had been struggling to emerge, but by the time we arrived at Middle Joffre Lake half an hour later it had nearly won its battle. There was plenty of chatter to kill time, bit it was a lively discussion about the right kind of chips to eat that dominated the trail conversation. Denis is strongly against flavours, strictly preferring plain or ripple chips. Despite the fact I am of the same mind, it was fun getting him to evaluate all the other varieties. Lines like “If I wanted a dill pickle, I’d be eating a dill pickle. Why would I want my chips to taste like one!”, and “Ketchup is a condiment. If you must add it to your chips, please do so privately with packets, because I don’t want it on mine!”, or “BBQ flavoured chips don’t really taste like anything I’ve ever barbecued, so I don’t understand that idea at all!” were the order of the day. Ted had heard it all before, and seemed more concerned with where we were going next and the beer we’d be drinking later on.

Joffre Creek crashing down the valley!
This was our view of Middle Joffre Lake
Bright greenery around Upper Joffre Lake


In no time at all, we had reached Upper Joffre Lake and would be scouting for the somewhat obscure trail that leads you up into the alpine. It winds through the woods and eventually to the bottom of a large lateral moraine of the Tszil Glacier, where a steep and rough track follows a spine into the col between Mt Taylor and Tszil Mountain. The path was soon located, and so was a sweater lost recently by someone we knew through the Clubtread hiking website we all hung out on. The guys, uhhhh, put that to good use in their latest comedy routine of the day.

Hammer (Ted’s nickname among friends) and rock. The trail to the Tszil Glacier begins around here
Comic relief


The route ahead looked just a little foggy!
Making the way up the moraine of the Tszil Glacier
One of those mystic moments

The route was well marked and reasonably straightforward, and soon we found ourselves staring down the summit block of Tszil Mountain. The line of ascent was simple to figure out, and much sooner than we had figured we were standing on the summit, in less than four hours from the cars. Not too bad, especially for Ted and Denis, who had knocked off 1500m of climbing the day before!

Quartzite bonded to a granite boulder
Islands of granite led us to the summit of Tszil Mountain

Originally, we had planned to climb Slalok Mountain, but the guys were pretty burned out from the previous day’s climb so, between that, and the whiteout we encountered, Tszil would be enough to content us that day. We sat high above the clouds, enjoying our lunch and the constantly changing scenery.

Slalok Mountain cloaked in cloud cover
Nearby Mt Taylor
Suddenly the route up Slalok became visible, but moments later it would again be enshrouded by fog
Looking down the Tszil Glacier at Upper Joffre Lake

Soon, with snacks now consumed, we departed the summit, and were now basking in the warmth of sunshine. Along the way the guys ran into a couple who had just finished a trip to The Alps, and spent a while discussing their experiences there. Feeling the need for some solitude, for whatever reason, I decided to wander down the ridge further to take photos of the lake and mountains. I marvelled at the clusters of tiny wildflowers, and the way they take advantage of every opportunity, while the calls of pikas occasionally broke the silence.

A splash of colour amid the boulder field
Wildflowers of highly unique colour , these are Inky Gentian ‘Gentiana glauca’. ( Thanks to good friend Maisie on the identification of these attractive specimens)
An icy tarn below Mt Taylor
Looking down toward Upper Joffre Lake. It was not that long ago that this whole valley was covered in glacial ice
The beautiful colour of these lakes is one reason why they are so popular!
Looking back at the summit of Tszil Mountain
The Tszil -Slalok Col
Ted and Denis bantering with the couple from France

Eventually, it was time to retrace our steps back down to the lakes, where we experienced a fairly hectic hike back down to the parking lot. Keep in mind this was a weekday in 2008, and the crowds today have increased at least twenty fold! Then, as now, there were a lot of impatient people on the trail, many spectacularly unprepared, and plenty of peculiar behaviour to go with them.

Entering the woods again at the bottom of the moraine
Closer to the icefall
Upper Joffre Lake
Middle Joffre Lake. At right you can see the infamous “Instagram Log” which has become so obsessively popular
Old growth forest
One last look at the icefall

We were happy to reach the parking lot, now jammed with cars, and kick back with some cold Stella Artois and those potato chips we love so much. Plain ripple, of course, if you’re keeping score, as I had no ketchup packets! Then, as now, it was a day worth remembering, and it had me planning future visits to Joffre Lakes Provincial Park.

But what of today? Despite the fact that this park faces many future challenges, it is still a wilderness worth preserving. In a world where outdoor recreation has reached record demand, there will have to be some well reasoned solutions so that it thrives. I’ll discuss those potential answers in this story’s next chapter, to follow soon…







Autumn Begins on Klitsa Mountain

It was 3 am on a Monday morning when I rolled reluctantly out of bed, making it as far as the couch. You know, I used to be an early riser, once, but that’s becoming something reserved for special occasions lately. As I forced down coffee and breakfast and read my computer screen in the fading darkness, my eyes later came to rest on a sentence: “430 am and heading for a hike, Mt Klitsa, here we come!” The words were Mary’s, and it occurred to me that despite how early it was, everyone else was getting up a whole lot earlier! Less than an hour later I met up with Dustin, Jim, and Mary, and we were soon rolling toward our destination.

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Map of the general area. The mountain is in the Alberni Valley near Sproat Lake

Klitsa Mountain, at 1639 m in elevation, is the second highest peak surrounding the Alberni Valley. It’s not as high as Mt Arrowsmith, but because it gets far more snowfall it stays snow covered until much later in the season.  The mountain’s name,“Kleet-sah”, derives from the aboriginal word that translates as “always white”.

The route to access Klitsa, at least via the Brooke George Trail, is certainly a circuitous one. For us, it meant driving on Highway 4 to Port Alberni, then following Stirling Arm, Gracie Main, Nahmint Main, and finally the N600 spur which led to a branch where the trailhead begins. Dustin was able to drive us all the way there, to within 20 metres of the first trail marker. That gave us the advantage of beginning our hike at 800 metres in elevation! It also helped that Mary had been on the trail before, so navigating the maze of  roads was, thankfully, somewhat easier.

It was still fairly early that we piled out of the truck and began gearing up, and the blast of frigid morning air had us moving around quickly, with more than our share of joking around. I’d hiked with Mary and Dustin before, and also joining us on the trek was Jim, who I hadn’t met until then. It turned out we had more than a little in common, as you often discover on those long trips on logging roads!

Fearless leader Mary headed into the woods

The only hitch on the entire trip happened within 150 metres of the trailhead, where a stray set of flagging tapes had us heading in the wrong direction, but we soon sorted that out and were promptly back on track. The route to Klitsa from the Nahmint Valley is actually long established, and the trail was renamed the Brooke George Trail in honour of a very well respected member of the Alberni Valley Outdoor Club. Brooke passed away some years ago in a mountaineering accident, and the club has adopted the trail in the years that have followed.

Dustin vanishes into the ancient forest of Mountain Hemlock, Silver Fir, and Yellow Cedar

The path began by leading us up through a considerable stand of untouched old growth forest, while following roughly along a creek that drains the upper bench below Klitsa. Sections of the trail were quite muddied but we were quite lucky that much of it was frozen solid, at least on the way up. Once we arrived at the small lake that sits at about 1050m we took a break and studied the route a little bit more. I knew that the trail was soon going to be traversing a fairly wet subalpine meadow which you get to by working your way north, along the lake’s eastern shores. Once past the lake, the climbing would begin in earnest as we wove our way along the route toward the alpine.

Cool morning temperatures persisted as we arrived at the lake
Jim and Mary take a break

Pretty soon the path began to dry out somewhat as we entered the alpine, eventually reaching a junction with the less often used route that comes up via the Brigade Lakes Trail and the Gibson-Klitsa Plateau. From what I understand, that track is an equally worthy objective but it does come with a good deal of bushwhacking in the upper lakes basin. I know I’ll want to spend some time there as there are apparently a great number of ancient trees to be seen! The Brigade Lakes Trail is much more readily accessible if you don’t happen to have a high clearance vehicle, as you can park at the Taylor River rest area on Highway 4. It was actually built by a group of loggers on a forest service project who felt the area was so special that it ought to be saved, believe it or not! As a result, much of the Gibson-Klitsa Plateau became part of an old growth conservancy, though currently there is some concern about a road boundary marked on the lower reaches of the Brigade Lakes Trail. It would be a shame to see any of this wilderness damaged!

The mountains of southern Strathcona Park appear, with Mt Gibson the slope at right here
We were lucky to get a such a perfect day for hiking. As I’m still a Vancouver Island novice, relatively speaking, if anyone wants to message me regarding peak identification please feel free to do that!
The sun making its appearance over the ridge


Once past the junction, you begin to see the lakes below, and the higher you climb, the more mountains appear! The footbed is relatively well worn, and cairns appear here and there, along with the occasional flagging tape.

The Brigade Lakes Basin, with its completely undisturbed forests
The crux, if you will, of Klitsa Mountain. The ascent route swings slightly right of centre then we used the left trending ramp to gain the summit

Klitsa soon made a more prominent appearance to the east, and before long the summit block was before us. We had reached an open clearing that was clearly marked on both sides of the trail, but we weren’t quite sure where the path went from there. I looked up to the left at first, as my friend Chris had cautioned me that the right hand side was harder to climb and more exposed. He and Shane had climbed it earlier that month in a virtual whiteout and ended up with a little more fun than they bargained for, though they’d managed it well. We hesitated for a minute or two and looked around , but as it turned out we rediscovered the path basically straight ahead of us, after which it trended strongly to the left. In different conditions, there may have been several gullies worth ascending but since we had ice to contend with we were content with the easiest possible line.

The last 100 metres were a bit more of a grind, but that was mostly because we’d all been pretty active the day before. Dustin, for example, had spent the previous day hiking up Kings Peak in Strathcona Provincial Park, which was an all day affair. Mary had climbed Mt Maxwell on Saltspring Island, while Jim and I had been active trail running. Jim, also an avid skier, kept busy contemplating all the possible lines up for grabs once the snows fell there!

Jim contending with the loose rock before the final ramp
Enjoying every minute of the views, though I am unfamiliar with most of the peaks 
Mary and Dustin nearing the summit, which was first ascended by surveyors back in 1927

There was loose rock to contend with while we lost ourselves in the views, but the walk was neither hazardous nor exposed. A relatively easy scramble soon had us on the summit, where we enjoyed little if any wind and ideal temperatures. I was about as happy as I could be, as this was a mountain that had really captured my imagination! This was a mountain where the ocean on both sides of Vancouver Island could be seen, which was a new experience for me.

Mary on the summit of Klitsa Mountain with Sproat Lake below
Dustin sharpening the pencils in the summit register
Jim on the summit, with Peak 5040 across the valley, where he’d been recently

From the summit, the entire Alberni Valley was laid out before us. You could see Sproat Lake and the Taylor River below, as well as Highway 4. In the distance Arrowsmith loomed prominently and beyond, the Salish Sea.  Across the valley to the south is Nahmint Mountain and as you look westward peaks like 5040, Adder, and Steamboat can be seen, as well as countless others. Northern views are dominated by the mountains of Strathcona, notably Nine Peaks, Big Interior and Septimus. Since I’m an Island novice, about the only one I was sure of was the Comox Glacier! According to Mary, on the clearest of days one could also see Elkhorn and the Golden Hinde but if my photos captured either I’d not have known what I was looking at!

Survey marker
Mt Porter with the Beaufort Range behind
You could just see the Pacific Ocean on the west side of Vancouver Island
 Highway 4 down in the valley below, as well as the Taylor River
Mary’s well travelled pack in the foreground with a sea of mountains beyond!
Old jar lid at the summit cairn

As stoked as we were to be there, after about half an hour we decided to begin the hike homeward, after all, we did have a long way to go! Before we departed, everyone took another good look around, as though imprinting the views to mind. It was a place I would return to in a second!

Sproat Lake and the Alberni Valley, with Arrowsmith at right and the mainland well beyond
How about one more photo? 
Dustin, Jim, and I taking that last look…..Photo by Mary
Bidding adieu to the summit…Photo by Mary

The walk down went uneventfully, with the added benefit being that much of the ice had begun to melt, though the trail lower down was all the muddier. We didn’t mind, though, because it could not have been a better day to be outside! We made such good time we decided to take another break on the way down.

Pretty nice place to chill for a few minutes


Mary arriving back at the lake again
The lake was just as beautiful in the afternoon light
Blue skies!…Photo by Mary
Dustin discovers the ice in a pond he’d broken in the morning has managed to refreeze while we climbed the mountain!

Once past the lake, it was just a matter of trekking through the woods again for about an hour to reach the truck. That in itself was a treat, as there aren’t too many undisturbed old growth forests left here on Vancouver Island. It’s quite likely many of the Mountain Hemlocks exceeded 400 years in age!

Following Mary through the ancient forest, which was also littered with the occasional massive boulder
Amazing afternoon light. on the Brooke George Trail…photo by Mary
Dustin found this growing on an old hemlock
We’re almost back at the truck, and even a bit reluctant to leave! The Brooke George Trail is well worth your effort!

All told, it was a very memorable day on the trail. We completed the hike, which probably had close to 900m of vertical gain, in roughly five hours car to car, I think. As relatively quick as that was, the same could not be said for the drive back, which was as long as it had been that morning. The roads, however, were all in excellent condition, so we had few complaints!

On the ride home, we decided to stop in at Bigfoot Burgers in Whiskey Creek for a late lunch. Dustin and I had wanted to eat there on an earlier trip to Mt Cokely but hadn’t managed to do so. This time around we were pretty determined to get those burgers, but the restaurant was closed for a staff party, of all things, so no luck there! At Mary’s suggestion, we made our way to Coombs Old Country Market, better known as “Goats On the Roof”. There’s a restaurant there that served us up some pretty decent burgers and fries, I’ll say! One unusual thing about the place is that it’s also well filled with wood carved art, much of it for sale. There were many pieces that were naturally or culturally significant, and quite a few that were rather ornate or even a bit risqué. One in particular featured a tiny little stool on which the backing had been crafted into a phallus, of all things. We all had a bit of laugh over that, and a few other pieces. I had joked that “My wedding anniversary was the following day, and there were some pretty decent carvings of life sized bears there, hmmmmm.”  “Well, I do have a truck with plenty of room,” said Dustin. It was a fitting and fun end to a fine day out. In the end, I recommend both the mountain and the restaurant, you can’t go wrong with either! (No, I did not buy the bear)


*** Author’s note: Some thanks are in order regarding this day in the mountains. Thanks to my friend Chris Hood, who first piqued my interest in this mountain. He was to summit it himself two weeks later, and I wish I could have shared that day.

Thanks as well to Chris Istace, whose invaluable information provided about the trip he and Shane Johnson had just done a couple weeks before helped us to have a successful outing.

Finally, thanks to my hiking companions on the trek and to Dustin for driving, you all helped make it a memorable day! ***



























The Cheewhat Lake Cedar

I had wanted to see it for years, and finally did so in autumn of 2012. Located in a quiet corner of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve on Vancouver Island, the Cheewhat Lake Cedar was, for many years, the second largest of its kind. In 2016, that was to change, when Olympic National Park’s Quinault Cedar, in Washington, was damaged irreparably in a devastating windstorm.  The Cheewhat tree, at that time, then became the world champion Western Red Cedar.

Pacific Rim National Park Reserve

The tree was rediscovered in 1988 by the late Maywell Wickheim, a resident of nearby Sooke, British Columbia and one of Canada’s most dedicated big tree hunters. I say rediscovered, because local First Nations people almost certainly made its acquaintance before, as not that far from its massive trunk lie the remnants of a dugout canoe that was never quite finished. Wickheim, for his part, was said to have hinted of an even larger specimen in the general area, though if that is so, he never did disclose its location. To those of us who scour the forests for big cedars, that mere possibility evokes the same kind of zeal that drives men to find lost gold mines, albeit without the prospect of great financial reward!

The trunk of a fallen giant near the Cheewhat trailhead on Rosander Main

It takes more than a little preparation and plenty of driving on logging roads to reach the roadside cairn on Rosander Main, where a winding trail will lead you into a stately grove of ancient Western Red Cedars near Cheewhat Lake. Directions to the tree are relatively well known, and access has improved somewhat over the years, but a vehicle in good condition with four decent tires and a sturdy spare at the ready are still strongly recommended. The trail itself, while not especially well marked, does have a well worn footbed that is reasonably simple to follow for experienced hikers.

Overturned cedar and its roots on the Cheewhat Trail, now home to many forms of life 


On the trail
Some folks find this tree and think they have found the Cheewhat Lake Cedar. As amazing as it is, keep going, you have a ways to go and much more to see!
Ancient tree just uphill from the Cheewhat Lake Cedar. It’s over 17 feet in diameter and might be 1500 years old!

As you draw closer to this giant, you’ll be truly inspired by the surrounding forest. The understory supports a great deal of biodiversity, and in ideal conditions the natural light through the canopy is nothing less than enchanting. When you finally reach the Cheewhat Lake Cedar, it makes a momentous impression, to put it mildly. Its diameter at breast height is a staggering 5.96 metres, which is over 19.5 feet in width. The tree is thought to be as old as 2000 years by some, though there are disagreements regarding its age. It has endured for many centuries, without a doubt, and is at the very least a national treasure. Should you be fortunate enough to visit, be sure to treat it with the utmost respect, as trees like these are both precious and irreplaceable.

The base of the Cheewhat Cedar
A true giant
Sign of designation
Twenty centuries of growth, perhaps!


The tree was rediscovered by the late Sooke resident and tree hunting legend Maywell Wickheim in 1988



As we all know, British Columbia’s ancient forests have almost entirely disappeared from the land. It’s time now to protect what remains and transition to harvesting second growth timber sources. The sobering reality is that the future of our wilderness depends entirely on our will to preserve it. The Cheewhat Lake Cedar gives us both hope, and a chance to appreciate what nature can accomplish!

Doug with the champion of all champions, the Cheewhat Cedar!




On Standing Down

The annals of mountaineering, especially those of social media offering, are so often filled with the stories of success. That is, you plan the trek, face the adversities, and eventually stand triumphant and heroic on the summit before staring down the descent. The truth, however, is that sometimes victory eludes you, yet in defeat there is often a story worth telling. If you have the courage to look back on the bad days, you might even get a laugh or two out of the spanking you’ve taken. Whatever the case, the most important thing is to keep on going back to the mountains. They are always worth the effort!

Doug, Steve, and Wally on the summit of Seven O’Clock Mountain. There’s always a reward in reaching summits!

Here then, are a few excerpts from my three and a half decades of history in the hills, some rather inglorious. The mountain has a way of finding you when you’re not having the best of days, you know.  As long as your ego isn’t too closely shackled to grabbing the summit every single time, and even if it is, you can still learn a lot from your misadventures.

Ted and Alan happy to have made the top of Mt Callaghan. We were still one helluva long walk from the beer!

What follows here is a retrospective of some climbs on which I ended up turning around, and the variety of related reasons for those retreats. I was surprised to find, to my chagrin, that there were a few more of them than I thought there were! Most of the real epics were concentrated in a ten year period that I’d characterize as the most trying time in my life, yet those same years were crammed full of discovery and elation as well.

Remember, it’s all about the determination, as you can see Doug demonstrating here!

First up? Mt Elsay, the avalanche… It was late one spring when I finally had my first experience setback in the mountains. I was close to my 39th birthday, and was feeling pretty immortal back then. I was, after all, at the peak of fitness at the time, having finally quit destroying myself playing baseball, and freshly off successful knee surgery. In many ways I felt unstoppable! Spoiler alert, I wasn’t.

The Coquitlam Divide from Wes’s Staircase, taken on a successful ascent of Mt Elsay later in 2007

That trek basically ended for me almost before it started. No sooner had I descended Wes’s Staircase on the Elsay Lake Trail, than a haunting mist obscured the entire valley. I continued on for a spell, knowing the route well, but almost immediately I froze in my tracks. There was a deep rumbling off the eastern slopes of Mt Seymour. It sounded powerful, so I stood and waited a minute or two to see what had happened. When the clouds drifted away momentarily, I could see a massive runout of wet snow that had carried with it the twisted limbs of small trees and continued on well over the trail I had intended to walk! This was an omen, had I been five minutes faster it’s possible I might not be telling this tale right now! It was a timely reminder that nature couldn’t care less how much you want to reach a summit. Though my wife sometimes begs to differ, I can sometimes take a hint! I turned around, and didn’t return again until over eight years later to climb the mountain.

Tim Jones Peak, Mt Seymour and Mt Elsay. The eastern slopes here hold danger sometimes. I think this experience subconsciously kept me away from Mt Elsay for some time

In 2006, I only missed out one summit, and that was the rock tower of Ben Lomond in the Britannia Range. Simon, Alan, Denis, Chris, and I had planned on climbing Ben More, Ben Lomond and Red Mountain in one long day. On our way up Ben More, I felt something pop in my left hip, which I had injured the year before on Mt Price. I knew right away it was going to be serious, but I badly wanted to stand atop the high point of the Seymour Valley. Though I did manage to summit Ben More, by the time we reached the base of Ben Lomond, I could not move my leg high enough to kick steps into the precipitous snow slope. Frustrated, I sat down with Chris, then chipped off a piece of snow with my ice axe to stuff in my pants. Chris, meanwhile, was suffering with a painful foot injury. We were not happy campers! This was the first time I ever had to sit idly and watch other people climb a mountain and I didn’t like it.

Left to right, Alan, Denis, and Simon descending Ben Lomond

It made me kind of nervous to be a spectator, but of course Alan, Denis, and Simon pretty much pulled it off without a hitch. When they came down, it was time to climb the less technical Red Mountain, which I had decided I was going to do come hell or high water. It hurt like hell, but I did it.

Simon, Alan, me, and Denis on the summit of Red Mountain in 2006. I do some of my best smiling when I’m in pain, but this is still a great memory!

Meanwhile, we watched from afar, cheered, and celebrated as Chris got up off the snow and proceeded to climb Ben Lomond! After that, we all walked out, and I returned the next summer with Denis to finally climb this peak. It was all I had hoped for! It was, however, the start of a ten year battle with that serious hip injury. Hip flexors are difficult, as they may heal, but in the process, they often tear again frequently. It took me a decade to properly rehabilitate from the injury, but then, I never stopped hiking, so maybe that is why. I resorted to taking up yoga to help the healing process, and it worked better than anything else I had tried.

Denis and me on the summit of Ben Lomond in 2007. All smiles here!

July of 2008 on Cayoosh Mountain was the best of times. Ted, Denis, and I spent the night camped out having more than a few beers before starting out the next morning for the summit. The conditions were ideal, but we were going to have to move fast to avoid the high temperatures of midday.

Ted on the way to Cayoosh Mountain in 2008. You work hard to climb mountains, and this peak was no exception!

It had been a big snow year and we knew the route could become dangerous if we tarried. As it turned out, I basically managed to louse that up by getting us off the right path. We passed the correct gully and instead I led us to a ridge we cliffed out on. That meant we had to double back before ascending the correct line, which we did, eventually.

Denis in the Cayoosh Valley, Joffre Group in the background, in 2008

Once we reached a steep bowl below the sub summit, however, I knew our day was done. The snow had become too isothermic, and was now too unsafe to cross. The only sane decision was to walk away. We haven’t returned yet, but maybe someday we will. That one’s on me, boys!

Cayoosh Mountain lived rent free in my head for a few years, then somehow it became a fonder memory. Still haven’t given up on this one!

Later in 2008, Chris and I were attempting Tulameen Mountain in the Cascades. We began, sans helmets, by climbing a very sketchy gully and veritable shooting gallery of falling rock that I began calling the Jingfest Couloir. With that bit of Russian Roulette out of the way, it was a question of digging in and making our way through a big field of shifting rock and up the southwest ridge of the mountain.

Tulameen Mountain, so close and yet so far! It’s just in behind the southwest summit, which is in the foreground here

On that day, the weather had looked unsettled, and then suddenly we could see a storm moving very quickly up the Fraser Valley. This was not good! We were only another hour from the summit of Tulameen but our position was much too exposed.  The next thing we knew there was lightning, and more threatening clouds, and we were scampering back to the cover of the woods below! It took a while, but we struggled back to the truck in one piece, none the worse for wear. Chris often tells me he’s a magnet for bad weather. I’m not sure about that, but on that day it was a funny enough explanation!

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Chris in Kennedy Creek with one of his better finds!


A different fate struck on Castle Towers in 2009, where Doug battled vertigo gamely and scrapped his way up to the west summit on a perfect summer day. The week before he’d been down with the flu and an ear infection. Climbing the true summit, just a half hour away, just wasn’t going to happen. While I took summit photos, Doug took a seat just below the cairn trying to gather his bearings.

Castle Towers west summit, looking at Garibaldi, 2009

He offered to wait while I attempted it alone, but we were a long way from civilization and if anything had happened to me I was not sure he was in the right shape to walk out alone. I made the only decision that I felt right about, and we enjoyed the west summit for a good thirty minutes more before beginning the long walk back. In the end, this trip was among the finest we have ever done together, and over a decade later I still talk about it!

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Charming summit shot, all smiles and no pain, brother! This is me and Doug on Coquihalla Mountain in 2015. Reaching summits has never seemed to be our biggest concern in the mountains. We seem more concerned with good jokes and cold beer, which I think is why we’ve been successful

The year 2009 also brings to mind one of the more strange and happy days of my life. In September, Chris and I drove up to the North Creek Valley near Pemberton to have a go at Hemionus Mountain. As we hiked up the south ridge on that cold and sunny day, we were treated to some phenomenal scenery. Just as we reached a high sub summit with a commanding view, we made the mistake of sitting down.

The North Creek Valley is alpine perfection, if you ask me

I had slept only an hour and a half the night before and Chris had been doing a lot of trekking the weeks before as well. Though we might have had the summit, instead we just kicked back, relaxed, and let it all sink in. This was the first time I’d ever done that on a mountain trip, and it was outstanding! We laughed a lot, and then strolled back down after a while. Some of my friends were a little incredulous, wondering why we would drive all that way and not at least try a little harder. I just shrugged, to us it had seemed right. Still does.

Then there was Ring Mountain, a dormant volcano in the Squamish Valley. I set out with Doug, Denis, and Chris on a spectacular spring day in 2010 with the goal of standing atop this tuya. The year before, Doug, Chris, and I had approached it from the Callaghan Valley, and due to a lot of faffing around on the wrong side of the mountain we had already spent a fair amount of time on the objective.

Chris approaching Ring Mountain in 2009. I guess we are both 0 for 2 on this mountain, come to think of it!

I was to fail again that day, as despite Doug’s stellar efforts at breaking trail I simply did not have the strength to follow.  What I didn’t know at the time was that I had previously picked up a very devious intestinal parasite which only affected me especially in times of hard physical effort. With it came chills, shuddering, fever, nausea, and sometimes the complete and random evacuation of my bowels. That day featured all of the above. While Doug and Denis reached the summit, I waited below, cursing my fortune. In fact, I was damned angry! Chris also had to turn around on that day, but it was more a matter of time constraint, not for lack of strength. Current score: Ring Mountain 2 Mick 0.

This view of Ashlu Mountain was as good as it was going to get for me on my second attempt at Ring Mountain. I sat in the snow for over an hour while my head was spinning

Only months later, I would make an attempt of Mt Bardean and Mt Ratney with Gerry and Sabine that turned out to be all too familiar. In those days I was pushing the envelope on every trip, and surviving on the absolute minimum of sleep.

The summit of Bardean was only half an hour away, but I would not see it that day

My wife and I raise a son with autism, you see, and for the better part of about 20 years, we lived in a partial state of exhaustion. I made it to within just 150m of Bardean’s summit that day, but could go no further.

A pretty nice place to take a nap, if you ask me

It wasn’t as bad as all that though, because I enjoyed a 90 minute nap in an idyllic alpine meadow while Sabine and Gerry climbed the two peaks. I’ve not managed a return yet, but would love to try again!

Illal Mountain October 2008, Gerry’s wearing the red toque!… Photo by Silvia Bakovic

Curiously enough, since 2010, every summit I have attempted has been met with success and for the most part with far less difficulty. As time has passed, I don’t get up mountains with the quite the same speed I did in younger days. Who does? What I do is finish off the efforts with a combination of persistence and well, more persistence. I live by two important mantras: “Just put one foot in front of the other” and “Those beers down at the truck aren’t gonna drink themselves!”

Me ascending the steep gully below the west ridge of Chanter                                                Photo by Simon C


Hey, in the end, it’s all about the tailgating! This is Denis, me, and Ted after climbing Mt Gillespie in 2012






Gemini Mountain, Welcome to The Island

It had taken us the better part of two years to sort out our move to Vancouver Island, but having finally done that, I wanted to climb a mountain here! Recently I’d joined a local hiking group called Island Mountain Ramblers , and while checking out the trips they had planned, I discovered one I had to join! Gemini Mountain, deep within the Nanaimo River Valley, sounded like a place I needed to see!

A very reputable Vancouver Island group, the Island Mountain Ramblers have been active since 1958

There is limited access to the valley, which is controlled by Timber West, the landowners. It was only possible to hike there in autumn months, according to Matthew, our trip organizer and current club president. The twin summits of Gemini Mountain were ideally located and, if the weather was in our favour, might serve up some beautiful views. The only catch was that we’d be in there during hunting season, but at least the area we were to hike was off limits to the hunters. While that sounded a little scary, of course there were no problems!

Neither hunters nor wabbits seen on this day!

Eight of us met at Harewood Mall, and from there drove a long way up the Nanaimo Lakes Road to reach our destination. We stopped at a checkpoint along the way, where you need to report in to let Timber West know where you’re headed. It was at least another half hour before a while before we turned onto the K15 logging spur. A long climb led us steeply up that road to where we’d begin our hike.

The view from where we parked

The Nanaimo River Valley has a lengthy history of logging, and there are still a lot of active haul roads within its watershed. Despite the piles of logging slash burning at roadside as we climbed, you could still see that the valley maintained its strong feel of wilderness. Somehow it seems to have transcended all the harvesting that has happened there.

Green Mountain, seen here, was once the site of a ski resort
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Mountain Hemlock draped in Old Man’s Beard

After gearing up, we began our hike at about 1200m in elevation, with cold winds urging us on.   Our leader knew the route well having been there before, but there were few markers to show us the way. The forest, a mix of Mountain Hemlock, Silver Fir, and Western Hemlock, was quite enchanting.

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Enjoying the forest walk


Soon the trees became more widely spaced, and we entered some attractive subalpine meadows, then heather covered slopes led us to some dense coastal brush. The mist and clouds were constant companions, and would only leave us for short breaks throughout the day.

The subalpine meadows


We were soon approaching the first of Gemini Mountain’s two summits, and after a short bushwhack, we were there! As we arrived, the clouds would clear, making good on the promise of those spectacular views. I had been hiking for many years in the same familiar ranges of the Lower Mainland, where I was used to being able to identify most of the peaks around me. Here on Vancouver Island, however, the surroundings were entirely new to me, so there was a great sense of discovery that had me quite enamoured.

The view from the first summit
Decent rewards for only an hour of hiking
Atmospheric conditions above the clouds


After a short break, we began hiking over to the second, and highest summit. This involved trekking over the shoulder of the first summit and weaving our way down to a col between the two. On the ridge, we passed by  bedding and grazing sites of elk herds, and followed their paths quite often. We’d have to return the same way we came, because both sides of the col were lined with steep cliff  bands that would prevent us from taking any  shortcuts.

Back inside the clouds


The sun, trying to make an appearance
Morning skies

The col was a beautiful and rugged place! Soon the skies parted for at least half an hour, as we rose above the clouds. The ground sloped sharply into a valley below the col, and in the distance the road we had driven up to the trailhead became visible. There was a sea of mountains to gaze at, but most of them were unknown to me.

The cliffs at the col, which I recommend avoiding
The main summit of Gemini Mountain as you see it from the col

Soon we left the col and crossed over on a ramp to the base of some steep bluffs. Here we waited, before climbing up to a bench just below the summit. That was the biggest challenge of the day, as the rock was a little unstable in places. While we did that, the skies would clear even more, which had everyone feeling more cheerful.43837671200_6faf4179b0_k


A look back at the route we descended into the col from the first summit


Getting closer to the summit


Looking back down to the valley below
The first peak of Gemini Mountain, where we had just been
Stunted alpine trees



Our trip leader Matthew, along with navigating, had his two year old daughter in his backpack. He also had his five year old son walking the entire route with us. He did well, and the only help he needed was a boost or two on some of the steepest sections. It reminded me of hiking with my kids when they were young, trying to share with them that fascination with nature, which they still seem to have to this day!

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Matthew and his kids

After we climbed the bluffs we then headed up to the summit proper, at 1525m in elevation. The summit plateau was fairly broad, with panoramic views. There were also some alpine tarns that were just beginning to freeze over. I was very happy to be atop my first peak on Vancouver Island!

Gemini mountain, 1525m elevation
That’s the mainland of British Columbia over there
An icy summit tarn
Atop one summit looking over at the other

Pretty soon the weather began to arrive in earnest. The winds now began blowing more briskly as we took a short break before the hike back. Many peaks could be seen in the distance, including Mt Baker down in Washington state.

Ever changing weather
Clouds have a way of being you it’s time to leave!
Mt Baker is in this photo somewhere


Light rain began to fall as we walked down to the col, then back up  to the first summit, and finally back down again to the logging road. It seemed like much longer than a five and a half hour hike, yet at 3 pm we were back at the vehicles and rolling down the road to the gate shortly after.

A last look at one of the tarns!

If anyone out there on Vancouver Island has thought about hiking this mountain during the limited opportunity, I’d highly recommend it. As well, if you’re looking for a hiking club on Vancouver Island, join the Island Mountain Ramblers, you’ll be glad you did!


The World Champion Red Creek Fir

Ten centuries ago, this world was a very different place. Already, Leif Erickson, son of Eric the Red, had just led his expedition to the east coast of North America. Soon after, battles raged throughout Europe as The Crusades began, not to mention all that followed in the next nine hundred years. Why all the history? The answer, in my mind, is that it gives relevant perspective when you discuss ancient living things. Time illustrates the incredible longevity, in particular, that trees can have.

Douglas Fir cone

Even as Erickson landed in North America, in the relatively undisturbed coastal rainforests of Vancouver Island, a fateful cone, plausibly, had seeded itself not too far from what is now the San Juan River.  Fortunately, there would soon be a sapling where the cone once lay, which eventually managed to grow well over 300 feet tall and almost fourteen feet in diameter! It may also have reached the age of a thousand years, though that estimate is based on known sizes and ages of similar trees of its species.

San Juan River

Today that tree is called the Red Creek Fir, and it is, by volume of wood, the largest Douglas fir on the planet! Over the years, several violent storms have reduced its height, but it still stands at 74m (242 ft) tall.  It is not, however, the world’s tallest Douglas fir. That honour goes to Oregon’s Doerner Fir, which measures 327 ft tall ( it is formerly known as the Brummit Fir).

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The towering mass of the Red Creek Fir

The Douglas fir, ironically, is not actually a true fir, but a member of the pine family (Pinaceae) . Pseudotsuga Menzieszi is its Latin name, and Pseudotsuga actually translates as “false hemlock”. Scottish naturalist Archibald Menzies and Scottish botanist David Douglas are its noteworthy namesakes. The Douglas fir has been a vitally important species to the timber industry, due to its strength, durability, and versatility.

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The Red Creek Fir has suffered significant damage a number times but has nevertheless maintained its status as the world champion. Here Scott is “surfing” a massive limb which we think broke off and fell to earth during the storm of December 2006

My own history with this tree has been somewhat checkered, to say the least. When I lived in North Vancouver, I visited Vancouver Island not once, not twice, but three times with good friend Chris before finally getting to see it in 2009. What I’ll say for certain is that it was well worth the effort! The Red Creek Fir is definitely one of the more awe inspiring trees I have ever seen!

It was thanks to Scott W that we finally got to see this tree
Chris and the Red Creek Fir
A vertical panorama
The old sign, now fallen to earth nearby


Considering the amount of logging that has taken place on the west coast of Vancouver Island, it’s no small miracle this giant still stands today, but now it is safe from harvesting, at least. The tree can be reached by a network of rough logging roads and a short, pleasant forest trail. I’m including a map and a few photos here that will help you find the trailhead, and detailed driving directions can be found here.

Just to give you an idea of where the tree is located, here is a map provided by the Ancient Forest Alliance.  Consider donating to their tireless efforts in preserving our forests, if you share their dedication to preserving these spaces.
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Logging road approach
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Here is where we parked on the old Red Creek Main


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Not far past the intersection of the two roads, on the same side of the road that we parked on is a cairn that marks the trailhead


It isn’t often that you get the opportunity to meet a living being that has been around as long as the Red Creek Fir. If you’re ever in the area, and you have a vehicle with half decent ground clearance, it’s well worth a visit!






A Visit With Coastal Giants


You hear it from everyone who has visited the west coast of Vancouver Island. They rave about the tall trees, the crashing surf, the unforgettable sunsets, and countless other charms. Wilderness adventurers of all experience levels come from far and wide to visit its forests and beaches year round.

October surf at Long Beach, Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, Tofino, B.C.
Adventure guide Duncan Morrison with a massive Western Red Cedar in Eden Grove , near Port Renfrew

British Columbia’s future may very well depend on how our province chooses to protect its natural world. It has become clear that times are changing. To those who reside here, one crucial question must be asked: If nature is really our greatest resource, why are we in such a race to destroy our future legacy?

Who could disagree that nature is what makes British Columbia special? Our mountains, rivers, and forests need to be preserved for future generations!


The answer would seem simple, but conflicted interests make it complicated. We are at a crossroads: No longer are industries based solely on the extraction of natural resources  a reasonable base for a thriving economy. The truth is, they have reached the point where they are destroying that very foundation. In my mind, the only way to shine the light in a different direction is to spend more time bringing attention to the natural world. That then, is primarily what this story is all about. This province needs to save its earthly splendour, and what better place to start than the windswept shores of Vancouver Island’s Pacific Coast?

Imagine that all ancient cedars were preserved for everyone to enjoy, like this giant in North Vancouver’s Wickenden Creek

The month of March brought with it unseasonably warm and dry weather this year, so it seemed like decent timing for a visit to Vancouver Island’s wild west coast. Set in the heart of unceded Pacheedaht territory, the forests near Port Renfrew still hold many hidden secrets which I hope to explore. Fortunately for me, I had an ideal tour guide for the mission, in the person of Chris Istace. “Stasher”, as he’s known to many, has spent plenty of days wandering the coast, and is one of the first good friends I’ve made in my new island home. Our plan, basically, was to visit many of the trees on the map seen below here, and to walk the Botanical Beach area. Here is a link to the fine story about this trip that Chris wrote up a while back, I highly recommend his website!

Map courtesy of the Ancient Forest Alliance . Consider donating to their tireless efforts in saving B.C.’s remaining old growth forests

We met early in Chemainus before heading toward Lake Cowichan, where we’d grab a coffee before reaching the coast via the old Harris Creek Mainline. The last time I’d driven that road was nearly a decade before, when it was still unpaved! Much had changed, but some things had remained the same.

Back in 2007, this fellow manned the Harris Creek Gate. Not sure where he is today!

The ride left us plenty of time to discuss a wide variety of topics, especially the preservation of British Columbia’s ancient forests, which we both have been very vocal about. The interior of Vancouver Island is an absolute statement on how not to manage those forests and you get a front row seat to view that devastation on the road to Port Renfrew! At the very least, we as citizens ought to have more say in what happens to our forests, and there are a lot more valid questions. Why can’t we log sustainably? Why can’t we transition to a lumber economy that focuses on processing second growth timber or older stands of less prime value? Why have we been exporting raw logs and all the processing jobs that go with them? Why is there no willingness by government to protect the finest of our forests from clearcutting? To be succinct, I am not in favour of abolishing logging at all, I just feel it’s high time to change the model on which the industry operates.

The map tells the tale well. Orange is already logged forest, green remains unprotected. Over 92% of the prime valley bottom timber on Vancouver Island has already been clearcut. It’s clearly time to protect the rest!


These forests, in their intact state, have considerable value in terms of ecotourism dollars,  which generate long term and sustainable employment. Harvesting the trees is a one time opportunity, and even when second growth harvest is factored in, the cashflow realized is far less than income realized through tourism. We need to make decisions that benefit the environment!


It was also a chance to learn a bit more about each other’s backgrounds. We have each managed to find our way westward, but through markedly different routes.  Chris has previously lived in Alberta and Estevan, Saskatchewan, whereas I moved to Nanaimo after living in Montreal, Edmonton, and North Vancouver. What I’ll say, to summarize, is that the love of outdoor living brings a lot of people to Vancouver Island!

Harris Creek Canyon

The morning air still held a chill, as we reached  Harris Creek. There we took a break and Chris showed me several of his favourite spots along the creek. The rushing waters of the canyon made for an ideal place to clear the mind, and we were happy to linger there for a while.

One of Chris’s favourite stops along Harris Creek

Our next stop was the nearby Harris Creek Spruce, a massive Sitka Spruce which is likely about five hundred years old. It’s quite fortunate that the logging companies decided to preserve it, for it holds so much life upon its aging limbs. The tree is surrounded by a picket fence, to protect its root system, and nearby there is a beautiful stand of Bigleaf Maple trees. I had first visited the tree back in 2007, and was heartened to see an old friend once again.

The sign that marks the short trail to the Harris Creek Spruce
The original old growth forest here was logged in 1893, but the Harris Creek Spruce was spared. Logging has been prohibited in this area since 2012 now.
This tree is vibrantly alive and growing happily beside Harris Creek
I processed this in black and white in order to show the tremendous intricacy an ancient spruce has. They are always covered in mosses and lichen and support a veritable community in their network of limbs!

Port Renfrew was the next destination, where we would spend some time hiking the shores of Botany Bay and Botanical Beach. It wasn’t quite possible to arrive there at low tide, which would have been ideal for viewing the many tide pools, but nevertheless, we had a lot of fun.  There is nothing quite like exploring the wild west coast of Vancouver Island, with its pounding surf and wind blasted Sitka Spruce providing the backdrop. The geology alone is quite interesting, and of course the biodiversity you find in each and every tide pool is unique and fascinating. Quite commonly you’ll see black bears wandering the shoreline foraging for food but we weren’t lucky enough to spot one that day.

Beautifully striated rock layers in Botany Bay
Enjoying the Pacific surf!



By now you might be asking if you can have too many photos of the surf? The answer, by the way, is no, of course not!

Sometimes you need to go the extra mile to get yourself a really good photograph too. Have a look at this sequence and you’ll see just what I mean.



Soon we scrambled around the point and onto Botanical Beach, where we wandered just a bit longer before moving on to the next attraction. I never tire of these coastal beaches, and even the sound of waves triggers so many pleasant memories.

Powerful coastal storms deposit scores of trees on the beaches every year. Be sure to remember to never turn your back on the ocean, especially when seas are rough!


If you ever get to know Chris you’ll soon find out he’s a big advocate of sustainable and smaller housing solutions. This one looked great, and even had a swing, but alas, it’s also in a provincial park!


Our whirlwind tour continued as we stopped for a bite to eat, then headed over to Avatar Grove. The trees there were preserved through considerable effort by the Ancient Forest Alliance. On the way up we actually ventured off the trail looking at several trees that get less attention, one a venerable Douglas Fir.

Chris spotted this big Douglas fir just off the trail, so we bushwhacked in for a closer look!


The Ancient Forest Alliance, with the help of many volunteers, built trails through both the upper and lower groves and did a commendable job of campaigning for the preservation of these trees.

Communing with nature on the Upper Avatar Grove Trail
Walking these groves has you feeling like a much smaller part of nature. I have often felt people see themselves as too important, and many could do with more experiences like this!

The upper grove is most known for the burled and twisted Western Red Cedar affectionately called Canada’s Gnarliest Tree. I’m not sure whether it can lay claim to that title but it is certainly quite the sight, with its heavily burled trunk and twisted branches!

Chris getting set up for a photograph
Massive burls!
It’s quite likely this tree is over 600 years old


Back on route, we visited the rest of the trees in the upper grove, and met a number of other folks paying their own respects as well. It’s notable that when left standing, forests like these drive both spiritual and economic interest in a region, which is a unique combination. Ancient forests are undoubtedly places where people find their souls.


Afternoon light in the forest
These trees are an irreplaceable resource



The lower grove was our next objective, and though Chris had been to Avatar Grove a number of times he had not happened to see it yet either. I found it to be quite a revelation, in part because you could could hear the Gordon River running in the background, as filtered sunlight shone through the trees. There was a subtle breeze to go with it all, and as it turned out, we may have spent more time there than in the upper grove!

Welcome to Lower Avatar Grove
The base of another ancient cedar
Magnificent cedar in Lower Avatar Grove
Composing the shot
So many things in nature defy description


Chris filming a very subtle moment as a faint breeze blows through some hanging moss. Sometimes it is the smaller things you appreciate the most.


The process of the nurse log assisted tree is perfectly illustrated here


What I’ll call the high point of the day, at least in my mind, came with a visit to Big Lonely Doug, which stands almost alone in a clearcut off Edinburgh Main.  Its stark existence, ironically, brings to mind that there is a campaign going on to save the trees in nearby Eden Grove merely a few hundred yards away. Keeping stands of old growth forest intact should be our goal, and in British Columbia that has been a difficult task to accomplish.

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Getting to Big Lonely Doug involves crossing a spectacular bridge over the Gordon River on Edinburgh Main
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Cross section of a big cedar stump on which you may stand to get a good look at Big Lonely Doug

The story of Big Lonely Doug is an interesting one, to say the least! Apparently, on a winter morning in 2011, a logger named Dennis Cronin was walking through a stand of old-growth forest in the Gordon River Valley near Port Renfrew. He was supposed to  survey the land and flag the boundaries for an up and coming clearcut. Soon he would soon stumble upon one Canada’s largest Douglas firs, no doubt worth a considerable sum in the timber market. Cronin, for reasons of his own, marked the tree with a ribbon that instructed the fallers to leave the tree standing, and that is just what they did. Everything around the tree was levelled and removed, leaving the now solitary fir alone in the cut block. Ironically, the tree was even used as a spar, as cable was wrapped around it in order to help haul other trees out of the cut block. Some time later, environmentalist T.J.Watt of the Ancient Forest Alliance, an organization committed to preserving old growth forests in British Columbia, happened to find it while out searching for big trees in the valley.

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Chris on his way down to the tree
This is one of British Columbia’s largest Douglas firs!
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Many centuries have passed since this fir was born!
Chris and Big Lonely Doug



If ever there was an apt metaphor for the destruction of British Columbia’s ancient forests, that Douglas fir was a textbook example. A towering giant, set in a field of destruction, the tree would soon be given a name: Big Lonely Doug. It would gain tremendous popularity, embraced by Port Renfrew, which calls itself  “Tall Tree Capital of Canada”


The sheer scale of this Douglas Fir is something to behold. I had seen countless photos of it and closely followed its story, but as they say, seeing is believing! Chris had seen the tree before, but was no less impressed. I’m not at all surprised that author Harley Rustad was inspired to write a book about this tree!




Just looking at Big Lonely Doug and all the stumps in the clearcut, I could not help but imagine what has been lost in our forests. Time is definitely running out to save them! We spent the better part of an hour just taking it all in and working for the ideal photo opportunity.




Highly recommended reading! (Image property of Walrus Books, House of Anansi Press, and Harley Rustad )


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The indelible mark of a wire rope cable on its trunk seemed sadly symbolic
Chris and Big Lonely Doug

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It stands alone!

Before we headed homeward, we decided to make one more stop. It had been years since I had been to the San Juan Spruce, which was British Columbia’s largest Sitka Spruce up until several years ago, when a storm destroyed part of its upper canopy. I lamented the fact that I’d not taken photos of it back in 2003, as I didn’t have a camera with me at the time. It remains, nevertheless, still an inspiring tree, set as it is right beside the San Juan River, in the middle of a forest service campground!

The San Juan Spruce
The tree has suffered damage but remains spectacular!
The nearby San Juan River
A curious hollow in the main trunk
This is where the damaged limbs came to rest
There are several Bigleaf Maples nearby that have reached enormous size
An amazing tree, well worth seeing

The drive home seemed somewhat faster than I expected, but then again all  things come to an end, relatively speaking. As we parted ways in Chemainus, I was already contemplating a return trip and some new explorations. You can never get enough of coastal British Columbia!

As I write this, the current state of preservation of old growth trees here on Vancouver Island is still of pressing concern. Already, very little ancient forest remains here, and neither the incumbent New Democratic Party, the current opposition B.C. Liberal Party, nor a plethora of logging companies have any desire to cease the destruction. Only British Columbia’s Green Party, part of the coalition government at this time, is supporting a moratorium on old growth logging. What is really needed here is a paradigm shift, for lack of a better phrase. The tired rhetoric of  seeing old growth forest as a decaying resource that might as well be harvested or it will lose value is simply an excuse for justifying environmental destruction. Why not consider change?

Well, maybe one last look at Big Lonely Doug


************************ Author’s Note***********************

If you’re also interested in supporting the preservation of our forests here in British Columbia, consider investigating these sources and contributing, if you can, to the fine work they are doing:

A Walk in the Clouds, Mt Cokely in August

Mt Cokely sounded like an interesting destination. I had read about the trip on the Island Mountain Ramblers page several weeks before, and though at first it was fully booked, I managed to latch on when a few people cancelled. The plan, for our group of ten, was to ascend the Saddle Trail, scramble up to the ridge of Cokely, and then further on to the summit. On the return trip, we’d return to the ridge, find the Rosseau Trail, and return to the vehicles via that route. This would be my first visit to the Mt Arrowsmith Biosphere Region, and I was looking forward to the views!

Arrowsmith massif from the Nanoose Bay area

The lightest of rains and low clouds followed us as we made our way from Nanaimo on the Island Highway toward Highway 4. By the time we passed through MacMillan Provincial Park (Cathedral Grove) and turned onto Summit Main, the rain had begun to fade. Next came more logging roads, as we followed Cameron Main and Pass Main to the trailhead high above, at roughly 1000m in elevation.

Fog and mist welcome us to the trailhead. It had been raining that morning, and the evening before

The Saddle Trail proved to be a beautiful hike, as promised. It’s a fairly well used track that winds its way through a pleasant subalpine forest and the occasional bluff on its way to the col between Mt Arrowsmith and Mt Cokely.

Karen leads John R and me as we work up through some bluffs. This section has ropes to help you out a little….Photo by John Y


After about half an hour things began to dry out a little as Dustin, Holly, and Adrian emerged from the woods here
Subalpine tundra

John Y., who was our trip leader for the day, had also brought along his dog Chica. She proved to be quite a talented scrambler, but I suspect she may just have been there for the food!

Chica at home on the trail!

The rest of our group was rounded out by Karen, John R., Stephanie, Christin, Janine, Adrian, Holly, and Dustin. It helped that we all seemed to have good camaraderie, but after all, it’s hard not to have fun in places like these!

While rolling fog and low cloud obscured much of the views, it was still easy to see why the Saddle Trail is a popular hike. The final approach to the saddle was particularly scenic, with wildflowers lining the path and a creek cascading down to the valley below.

View from the first lookout
Fringed Grass of Parnassus. How do you like that for a wildflower name?
John R and Karen getting closer to the saddle
There’s Karen and John Y almost at the saddle! Would the sun make an appearance? Read on and find out!

It took us less than a couple of hours to make the saddle, where we regrouped and prepared to scramble up to the ridge. It turned out the rock was of reasonable quality with decent holds, but as we climbed the exposure would increase significantly. Due concentration was needed to choose the right line, especially during the last fifty metres of the climb. This was definitely my favourite part of the hike!

The scramble begins, an easy Class 2 at this point…Photo by John Y


The last Island Mountain Ramblers group got to see Jewel Lake but we weren’t as lucky…Photo credit Wikimedia
Holly partway up on the climb, right where it begins to steepen considerably
John R reaches the ridge, having taken care to climb a safer line because Chica was following him
Adrian, Janine, and Christin arriving on the ridge

From the ridge, we traversed our way over to the summit block. That required another short section of scrambling which probably had the most exposure of all and one particularly tricky step you could certainly call the crux. That went very well as we made sure not to rush. Curiously, I took no photos on that part of the hike.

The summit was broad and inviting, and we stopped there for lunch near all the radio repeater equipment and hoped that the clouds might soon clear. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, some blue skies materialized and opened up some views. One could see down to the valley from where the CPR Trail to Mt Cokely made its ascent.

Summit lunch break for all!
Christin examining all the radio hardware on the summit
It began to get brighter after about ten minutes 
This is looking down into the McBey Creek Valley where the CPR Trail comes up to Cokely
I liked the look of this!

In another twenty minutes or so, we began the walk back to the ridge, which involved down climbing that tricky section that slowed us down on the way up. It was at that time the clouds once again shifted and parts of Mt Arrowsmith made several brief appearances.

John Y makes tracks on the way back to the ridge
Mt Arrowsmith is lurking in the clouds
Waiting to descend…Photo by John Y
Stephanie looks on as the rolling fog exposes new views
Adrian, Janine, and Christin finish the descent to the ridge 
See you later, Arrowsmith!

Pretty soon everyone was together again and we began following the cairns along the ridge of Cokely that marked the Rosseau Trail. Save for one particular area where a short and sharp scramble connected two parts of the ridge, this was the easiest part of the hike, technically speaking. We simply followed the ridge until it neared its end and the trail began to descend into the forest below.

Traversing the ridge on the Rosseau Route
Cleft in the ridge and juniper
Clouds still looming!

Next came a most unusual part of the route, where we meandered through a garden of stunted trees, some very ancient, along a near vertical cliff band. It made the trail seem  almost enchanted!

Definitely a cool part of the trail!

A word of warning about the next part of the trail, because there is a spot where people have been tending to wander off route on the way down. You reach a point where the trail opens up to your left and it tends to draw hikers downward but in fact the actual route continues along the cliffs a bit longer. At one point, part of our group out front were making their way down this particular hillside, and the hikers toward the back of the pack heard a bit of a yell. I did not see what had happened from where I was. Holly, apparently, had stepped on a log then began a quick slide that ended with her tucking forward and then, briefly airborne, executing a perfect forward somersault before hitting the ground. Miraculously, even though there were plenty of sharp and nasty things she could have landed on, it turned she was just fine. We were all very happy that she was pretty much unharmed, saved by some good athletic instinct!

We actually carried on down that fateful slope for a few more minutes, before several of us finally concluded we had lost the trail, so the rest of us climbed back to the last marker we’d seen. By the time I made it back up, half the group were already laughing a bit, having easily rediscovered the trail once again. According to previous club trip leaders, and a couple of hikers I spoke to on Mt Benson two days later, wandering off the track at this particular spot is nothing new on the Rosseau Trail. It might be worth doing a little trail work to remedy that problem.

With all that out of the way, we continued on the trail, which transitions into an easier walk through a venerable forest. It didn’t take much longer than an hour or so to reach the logging road again from there, and in another ten minutes we arrived back at the vehicles.

Scaly Chanterelle, not an edible mushroom
Yellow Coral

That marked the end of another successful Island Mountain Ramblers hike, and a really enjoyable day out. Mt Cokely was well worth the time, and I can hardly wait to do this hike again!

Travels and adventures past and present, from camping to hiking to searching for B.C.'s remaining old growth trees, and treks to the mountains