Tag Archives: camping

Hosers, Flowers, and Castle Towers

Doug’s Ford Explorer rolled slowly to a stop. It was an ideal summer morning back in 2009, and there was plenty of excitement in the air. We were finally going to climb Castle Towers Mountain! The plan was simple: We would hike along the ridge lines below Helm Peak after leaving the trail, then work our  way to Gentian Pass. From there, we would push on to set up camp on Polemonium Ridge and find our way to the summit the following day. You may have heard that this part of British Columbia is overcrowded and a bit too popular for your liking. While sometimes that is undeniably true, likely even more so today, I think this story might just change your mind a little. If you’ve ever had any doubt that spending a couple of days hiking in Garibaldi Provincial Park is a good idea, then be prepared to dismiss those worries!

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Castle Towers at 2676m in elevation, is one of the more beautiful summits in the Garibaldi Ranges. It can be seen from Garibaldi Lake on a clear day

With full packs, the grunt up the Helm Creek Trail took plenty of effort, but we were still elated to be there. Doug had put a lot of planning into this trek, and now it was time to put our boots to the trail. It seemed a relatively short couple of hours for us to make it up to the Helm Creek campsite, and some overnight campers were still lingering there as we arrived at Helm Meadows. The momentary envy we felt for the coffee they had was all but extinguished when I told Doug I’d packed some beer along for the walk!

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The beautiful ancient forest on the Helm Creek Trail
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Western Red Cedar
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Rugged Helm Creek greets the morning sunshine

If by now you’re wondering about the catchy title to this story, well, here’s an explanation of sorts. So, exactly what is a hoser? See the actual definition below, but the word has come to mean any typical Canadian in many circles, and it’s also a nickname that got attached to the two of us by friends years ago. The flowers and Castle Towers? I’ll let the photos answer that question!

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Hosers? You decide

To elaborate, I offer the following:

Hoser: (n) Canadian hockey derogatory term that is similar to the American “idiot” or “loser”. It is derived from the pre-Zamboni days in hockey, where the losing team would be stuck with hosing down the ice after the game. It was popularized again by the characters Dave Thomas and Rick Moranis played on the SCTV comedy show of the late 1970s and 1980s.

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They even made an album! Copyright SCTV, using only to explain genre, eh!

 

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Lupines in bloom, Helm Meadows

The next phase of the operation was to circumvent the Helm Glacier so that we could arrive at the col above Gentian Pass. To do that, we climbed steeply toward  Helm Peak and simply meandered along the ridge some 250 metres below its summit. The clouds and sunshine put on a real show for us as we walked, and although the weather looked unsettled it ended up clearing just as we had hoped. The views, at least, were a welcome distraction, as the slope we had chosen to hike up was steep and lined with heather.

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Helm Peak, notorious for its crumbling rock and exposure, especially near the summit!

 

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Pyroclastic Peak and Mt Cayley on the distant Squamish Cheakamus Divide

Spectacular views of Gentian Peak, Black Tusk, and many of the peaks of the Garibaldi Ranges made their appearance one by one. Though we were beginning to feel the heat of the day and the weight of our carry, it hardly seemed to matter. Gazing at all of the lakes, with their varied shades of blue and green, I could not have imagined a better place to be on a summer day.

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Cinder Cone, one of the many volcanic features in the valley
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Gentian Peak and Panorama Ridge behind Helm Glacier, Mt Price at centre
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Panorama Ridge
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Black Tusk
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The Garibaldi massif behind Gentian Peak, with Helm Glacier in the foreground
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One cold looking swimming pool!
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Guard Peak and Garibaldi

Once we reached the col, we virtually stopped in our tracks. There it was, Castle Towers! The very first time I had hiked to Garibaldi Lake I had been drawn to this high, glaciated, triple summited tower, and now we were getting a closer look. After a brief diversion examining a weather station there, we continued on.

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Castle Towers is an imposing sight!
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Weather station
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Gentian Peak, Garibaldi behind

It is here on this climb that you get an idea of the punishment you’ll endure on the return, because at that point you drop at least 250 metres in elevation to reach Gentian Pass. As per mountain terminology it isn’t strictly a pass so much as it is the Gentian – Polemonium Col, I suppose, but the name seems to have stuck. It took us another three quarters of an hour to reach the short expanse of meadow below, with its fine views of Castle Towers and the nearby Spearhead Range. By then we were in no mood for the up and coming hike up to Polemonium that was to follow, so we decided it was dinner time.

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Dropping down into Gentian Pass
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Local marmot offers greeting
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We weren’t looking forward to this climb on the way home

Doug broke out the stove and cooked up tasty dinner of rice and chicken with Indian spices, which was so good at the time I can still recall it a decade later! Meanwhile, I iced down some beers in a creek nearby and broke out some Snickers bars for dessert. After we ate and drank, we took ourselves a short nap, which really helped Doug as he hadn’t been feeling that well the week before the trip. Still, it was only with great reluctance that we shouldered our packs again and made for the ridge above. It seemed like every step took a minute, but eventually we reached our destination.

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Dinner is served!

Polemonium Ridge was a revelation! It was a broad plain of multiple levels, and featured endless vistas of the surrounding peaks. Though I don’t remember saying much at the time, I do recall being very thankful to be there! For lodging, we had brought two lightweight bivouac shelters that were braced with our hiking poles, and of course sleeping bags. We placed camp in a carefully located position, in case the winds kicked up, then set to exploring the ridge for a spell. Garibaldi Lake loomed below us, no doubt buzzing with campers, but from our perch we heard only faint summer breezes and the calls of nearby marmots. This was a real mountaineer’s camp, complete with some aging remnants left on a previous expedition or two. I even found an old pair of aviator sunglasses that date back to the 1970s which I still have today!

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Sardines, anyone?
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Polemonium Ridge
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Gentian Peak looks very different from Polemonium Ridge
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Garibaldi and Guard Peak from camp

 

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Camp on the ridge!

The sunset was a grand show, as the alpenglow danced across the nearby peaks and a fiery orange glow hung over the Tantalus Range and the Squamish Cheakamus Divide. We spent the time letting all of that sink in and talking about trips past and future, and the fact we were then out of beer! Shortly after the sundown, we turned in, wanting to take advantage of the cooler morning conditions as we knew we’d be climbing in the shadows. Sleep came easily, it had been a long day!

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Garibaldi and The Table
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Garibaldi Lake
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Sunset over Tricouni Peak

I awoke early, as I always do in the mountains, having never been one to lie in a few extra hours when there’s a sunrise to see. I found myself thinking about my father, who had passed away the previous November. He had a lot to do with teaching me about the joys of early rising, being of the belief that it was particularly sublime to be awake while most of your corner of the world was ensconced in slumber. I will always think of him in the wee hours of the morning.

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Sunrise
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Castle Towers and its namesake glacier
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First light
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The Table is a tuya, which is a volcano formed under thick layers of glacial ice
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Good morning, Castle Towers
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Getting ready to leave camp

Breakfast came next, then we cached some of our gear which we’d pick up on the descent. No sense carrying too much weight, right? Cool morning air accompanied us as we climbed further up the ridge and searched for the gully that would give us passage to the west flank of Castle Towers. It turned out that it wasn’t too difficult to locate, the crux being all of the loose rock that we had to contend with. We were well distracted by the views of the hulking mass of the Garibaldi massif and it’s volcanically created lake in the valley below.

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The loose gully you descend off the summit of Polemonium Ridge
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Looking toward the route up to the west summit
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Garibaldi!
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The land of ice and snow!

Pretty soon our objective stood before us, and next we scaled yet another pile of randomly placed rock to bring us to the foot of a snowfield. According to our information, the snow here was supposedly in decent shape for kicking steps, so we’d opted not to bring crampons and ice axes with us. Big mistake! Doug, with his sturdier footwear, was able to lead successfully up the steep pitch to make it just barely possible for us to cross the snow. I followed behind, trying to very carefully place my steps. Since there was some exposure, this took us some time, but in time we made it up intact. Lesson learned? A serious mountaineer brings ALL the necessary gear, and that way if you need it you have it with you!

All that was left to do was to finish the climb to the west summit, where we could examine the rest of the route. That consisted of  a fairly large boulder field, which never gave the feeling of walking on secure and solid ground. Nearly every rock moved regardless of its size, and that made for one very nervous ascent, but we just kept on moving until we arrived at the top.

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Ascending the loose boulder field
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A most spectacular view! Keep scrolling, you’ll see it again in a moment
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Our blurry entry in the west summit logbook

The west summit of Castle Towers is a spectacular vantage point. Not only could we see Garibaldi across the valley, but many of the more rarely ascended peaks in the park, such as The Sphinx, Isosceles, The Bookworms, Phyllis Engine, and many more. We could even see the Tantalus Range and could make the distant peaks of the Squamish Elaho Divide. Mt Price and Garibaldi Lake stood out in especially sharp relief, and seemed close enough to reach out and touch, as did the Castle Towers Glacier!

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Mt Price and Tantalus Range behind Polemonium Ridge and Garibaldi Lake

This was a day on which I was going strongly, but I could soon see that Doug was now grinding out every step. It turned out that he was dealing with a case of vertigo which was disturbing his sense of balance, despite his determination. When we finally reached the cairn of the west summit, it was time to reevaluate our situation. Doug decided it would be best if he rested for a while, while I finished the task and made my way to the central and true summit. While that looked relatively straightforward, my concern for his well being prevented me from doing that. Had I met with an accident, I could not have been sure he was going to be alright on his own, and since we were in a very isolated location,  I opted to stand down. While I felt was the right decision, it wasn’t necessarily an easy one, but whatever disappointment we felt soon faded away as we focused on the incredible views!

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Phyllis Engine, Mt Carr and more. Sky Pilot flowers growing in the foreground
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Garibaldi from the boulder field
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Castle Towers Glacier

We savoured the moment as best we could, as soon we’d be on the clock again, and heading homeward. We’d need to pick up the rest of our gear that we’d left at camp on Polemonium Ridge as well, and were expecting a long walk back to the parking lot! For a minute or two, we could hear nothing but the wind whistling through the vents in our helmets. I love that sound!

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Phyllis Engine and Mt Carr again, plus more rarely explored territory!
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Mt Price and Garibaldi Lake. The Burton Hut is right near the lakeshore but not visible here

Feeling somewhat fresher than before, we now backtracked down the boulder field, with all the more caution. It may have been even more unnerving on the descent, as even car sized boulders shifted underfoot. I remember laughing uneasily, referring to it all as “geologically recent”, mostly because it was!

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On the boulder field!
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Wedge Mountain zoom

When we reached the hardened snowfield for the second time, I had even come up with the idea of using a sharp rock to improve the steps, but the sun had shifted, serving to slightly soften the snows. It turned out nature had helped us out somewhat, and we were soon back on the endless rubble that would lead us back to the now familiar gully, then up to Polemonium Ridge beyond. It wasn’t quite as easy to climb as when we’d descended it, mostly because we kept finding rocks to dislodge, but thankfully it was a short, sharp, section of suffrage.

Our loads would get a little heavier, and as we retrieved our gear and stopped for another snack on the ridge, Garibaldi Lake shimmered below in the distance. It was at that moment we joked about calling for a helicopter ride home, but part of earning your keep in the mountains means you’ve got to do that walk back to the truck!

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I still miss this campsite, a decade later!
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Gentian Peak

As we left Polemonium Ridge behind, we turned to stare once again at Castle Towers. Would we try again for the summit? I knew I definitely wanted to. We still have not. It was one of the most ruggedly beautiful places I’ve seen in the Coast Mountains, not far as flies the crow from civilization, but it may as well have been a thousand miles from the closest human. It’s that very feeling of isolation that fuels my love of the mountains, and most of these words are but faint praise when comparing them to being there in the moment.

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See you later, my friend

Next, however, came the drop into Gentian Pass, steep as it was, followed by the climb back up to those ridges above the Helm Glacier. We were trudging along so slowly at one point that I’m sure I recall some of the resident marmots mocking us! Despite their imaginary taunts, we soon found ourselves overlooking the Helm Glacier and its sprawling valley below. Turning one last time to Castle Towers, with a quick nod of respect, we were off yet again. It would be over an hour before we reached the well groomed trail at the Helm Creek campsite, and several more before we made it to the parking lot. It was Doug who rebounded strongly toward the finish line, as I began to fade, as much mentally exhausted as anything.

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Spearhead Range
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Rugged territory in Gentian Pass
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Polemonium Ridge from Gentian Pass

The hike back was something of a blur, so I’m glad I took plenty of photographs. All I really recall was that it was dark when we finally finished the trek! Here are some more looks, in no particular order, at this wonderfully scenic place.

Author’s Note: I must have been tired and delirious because I forgot that just before we reached the parking lot we stopped to retrieve some very cold Heinekens Doug had stashed from a nearby creek. Doug actually checked the GPS track he had and found a waypoint called Beer Creek. It makes me happy to know we weren’t deprived of refreshments after all that walking!

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Black Tusk in all its glory!
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Summit block of Black Tusk
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Wide open spaces
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Panorama Ridge
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We really enjoyed all the colourful lakes and tarns!

 

As popular as Garibaldi Park has become over the years, there is still land in the park that is as isolated as it is difficult to reach. Castle Towers Mountain is, in spirit at least, the gateway to this wilderness, so don’t pass up the opportunity to experience it. The harder you work, the greater the rewards!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Le Tour de Black Tusk

Anyone who knows me well enough is quite aware that I’m an obsessed Tour de France fan, so much so that I’d somehow shamelessly work “Le Tour” into the title of a story. There’s something about the true sacrifice, courage, and suffrage of the world’s premier bicycle race, which was first held in 1903,  that has always fascinated me. I’ve been a devoted fan of Le Tour for decades. This story, full disclosure, bears no real resemblance to that gruelling 21 stage bike race, seeing as how it’s really about a one day tour of the Black Tusk region in Garibaldi Provincial Park. That said, I hope you’re enjoying the race so far this year and that you enjoy this tale. Hey, in the end, I’ll settle for the latter!

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I like the riders who ride breakaways on the mountain stages, like Thomas Voeckler here, who has recently retired
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It’s just so damn difficult!

It had been some time that we’d been kicking around the idea of hiking up the Rubble Creek Trail en route to camping on the shoulder of the Black Tusk one evening, and then doing some looking around on the following day. So it was on a perfect August afternoon that Doug and I were grinding uphill, overnight packs in tow, starting out on the dusty switchbacks at the relatively late hour of 6 pm. It was a balmy 22 degrees, cooled by a bit of a breeze, and surprisingly, there were very few hikers encountered on the trail. The intent wasn’t actually to climb to the summit of Black Tusk- I had done that before, and on this trek we had chosen not to bring our helmets- but to thoroughly explore this ancient volcano’s features.

Rubble Creek with The Barrier lurking behind. It’s important to remember several people have died in recent years trying to cross this raging torrent. Take care when you are near its banks as the current can be merciless!

The hike in to our campsite up went exceedingly well! We covered the 1400 metres of elevation gain and 15 kilometres of distance in just about three and a half hours. We then set up our lightweight shelters right at the end of the maintained trail, as per the park signs.   The Perseid meteor showers were in their beginnings, and it was amazing to be in a place so very quiet that was so close to civilization. Garibaldi Lake loomed silently below, and a panorama from Helm Peak all the way around to the Tantalus Range stretched out before us. One could easily see how this place had become sacred to the Squamish people, as there’s really no place that is quite the same!

Garibaldi, The Table, and Mt Price at dusk

Well, sometimes it’s true that all good things must come to an end, because the next thing we knew, an insidious breeze began drifting down from the col above. It started out innocuously enough, but after a while we felt as though we’d been tossed straight into a walk in freezer.  We had not brought an excess of warm clothing ( especially myself), and this was to be a major issue as the night wore on. It would have helped to pack an extra layer or three! Pretty soon we reconfigured the shelter into a double bivy to try to cut down on the draft, which helped a little bit, but I spent one of the most restless outdoor nights of my lifetime. To give you an idea of how cold I was, I wasn’t even annoyed that I’d forgotten to pack the beer I’d brought with me, so I’m sure that must have meant we were close to the limits of hypothermic tolerance! The hours ebbed away at a snail’s pace, the way they always do when your teeth are chattering. We knew that it was to be sunny and 25 degrees the next day, but of course the night hung on endlessly.

Never was I so glad to see the glow of sunrise nudging the ridge beside Helm Peak at 5 am or so. I don’t know how cold it was at Helm, but I’m certain there was probably plenty of rock falling there just as there was on the slopes of Black Tusk above us that night. You see, sleeping directly below the Tusk is kind of like being at poolside with a bunch of big kids behind you, because you never really know if they’re going to push you into the pool, or not! After a while, I had convinced myself that most of those rocks were smallish and far enough away, perhaps because we had not the inclination to move anyway. So ended the infamous “Night of the Frozen ‘Nads”, as we took to calling it later!

Here follows a few images taken at the scene. You’ll have to imagine the cold just as I had to imagine the photo, as I had rolled over in the middle of the night and somehow shattered my camera screen! That made photography quite interesting for the rest of the trip, as I had no clue what I was getting in the shots that I took.

Sunrise glow over Helm Peak
As I stood up to take this photo, I remember pretty much every joint in my body cracked audibly!
Good morning, Black Tusk!
The sun rising further, and bringing its warmth with it! So…much…warmth!
Left to right, Castle Towers and Panorama Ridge with the Overlord Group in behind, all destinations that we have been lucky enough to hike

I’d be remiss, before telling the rest of this tale, if I didn’t give you a little background information on this intriguing destination, so first a little knowledge. The Black Tusk is one of the most identifiable landmarks you’ll find in the Coast Mountains. It almost seems to be thumbing its nose at the world, some might say, while others have implied the gesture might be a little more profane! The true summit, rarely reached due to several pitches of hard to protect and fast crumbling rock, is 2319m in elevation. The sub summit I had reached years ago has a worn trail right to the top and stands slightly shorter. It can be seen from quite a distance from the Squamish and Whistler area as you drive along the Sea to Sky Highway (Highway 99). Part of the Garibaldi Volcanic Belt and, of course, the Garibaldi Ranges, it’s classified as a stratovolcano

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The Black Tusk is certainly as well named as it is conspicuous

The volcano has been extinct for ages, but trust me when I tell you that when you walk its slopes it somehow seems like it could spring to life at any given moment. Geologists believe that it was originally formed about 1.2 million years ago, and that a second round of activity after glaciers receded eroded the surrounding cinder cone, leaving only its harder lava core. It’s thought that the most recent changes occurred just 170,000 years ago, which is relatively recent in geologic time!

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One of Doug’s finest photographs! That’s me making my way toward the ridge in the background

Unbeknownst to many, the Black Tusk actually also has two sizeable glaciers, which can be found on the northeast and northwest slopes of the mountain. Like many glaciers today, they are in serious retreat, but since they are also covered in a substantial layer of fallen rock for the most part, they are melting very slowly.

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Doug descending the trail off the cone

The peak also has great significance to the people of the Squamish First Nations. They call it T’ak’t’ak mu’yin tl’a in7in’a’xe7en, which translates as “Landing Place of the Thunderbird”. It is said in their lore that the fire and lightning of the thunderbird was what formed the mountain. Having long been fascinated by its unique appearance, I can certainly see why they assigned such mystic qualities to it, as it certainly commands your attention! After all, as original inhabitants, they may well have witnessed its fury firsthand! When you visit, remember these words, and treat the land with the utmost respect.

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The Thunderbird

 

Garibaldi Panorama

After the rough night, we didn’t expect too much of ourselves, but as it turned out the coffee and cheerios we put down had us on the way to points higher at around 7 am, but not before we’d defrosted somewhat! We walked parts of  the approach trail toward the summit to have a look at the chimney, stopping for all distractions on the way. Most folks who visit only bother with the direct route, so you usually have the outliers to yourself, which I enjoyed a lot. Next time up I think I would want to camp above the col on one of the sub summits, as the views from there are unparalleled!
Here are some scenes from all of that rambling, and I hope you enjoy them as much as we did!

Approaching Black Tusk from camp
Garibaldi Lake always has that beautiful colour, owing mostly to glacial till
Doug surveys the valley below
Each and every type of rock made a different sound underfoot. These would scrape loudly and then clink together resoundingly!
You can see where the trail has worn into the slope before it swings over to the left, but as you approach it you can see a band of rock there that almost tricks the eye into believing the trail goes straight up the sheer rock face!
Here is another profile of Black Tusk. The red rock in the foreground was both surprisingly good for traction, yet also constantly crumbling
These hardened fins of the volcano’s core remain exposed, after the rest of the cone has eroded away
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This picture shows you my uncanny ability to find dirt wherever I go! Photo by Doug
The song “Might As Well Be Walking On The Moon” came to mind while walking this mountain
Here comes Doug down the field of shrapnel. The trail is actually well worn and relatively stable underfoot
When this volcano was last active it must have been quite the sight!

The diversity of this place was very unexpected. I’d just expected to find a big pile of black rock but there was so much more there than meets the eye. Once we’d had our fill of the main summit, we branched out to explore the perimeter areas.

Having had enough of the cone, we headed off to the opposite side of the plateau

 

Some flowers manage to eke out an existence in these supposedly barren soils
This rock sounded like you were breaking dinner plates as it was walked on!
This view was very addictive!

 

More different textures
No shortage of spectacular views!
A perfect ready made shelter. This would have worked well against the winds
The Squamish Cheakamus Divide and beyond

It was at this point we took a break for lunch, not really wanting to leave, but knowing that we had to. Returning to the mountains and forests again and again is seen by many as seeking a challenge, but for me it has always been the easiest thing in life to do. It’s the everyday mundane tasks and duties that confront me the most, while the mountains are a place to savour freedom in one of its purest forms! The sunny weather and warmth of the midday sun may even have been the very best part of all, as we soon forgot the cold of the previous night! It took a couple of hours to descend the path back to the parking lot, and we soon met the first of the hikers on their way uphill once we reached Taylor Meadows.

One last look at T’ak’t’ak mu’yin tl’a in7in’a’xe7en, the Landing Place of the Thunderbird
The Black Tusk
Enjoying wildflowers in the meadows below
We were almost tempted to jump into this waterfall!
The Tantalus Group on the horizon

The Tour de Black Tusk ended very well, though the haze of distant wildfires obfuscated some of the views, and by mid afternoon we reached the truck and our highly anticipated cooler of beer. We met scores of people on their way up the trail to Garibaldi Lake. It was a popular place then, and that’s even truer today. All manner of folk were seen, in all ages, shapes and sizes, and in widely ranging states of preparedness. In the parking lot we enjoyed some much needed refreshments and were even gifted some cheese by some hikers from Washington that we met! Random acts of cheeseness, what more could a Canadian ask for?

While it might be difficult to time a trip to this wilderness in order to avoid the crowds, the highly unique terrain of the Black Tusk is without a doubt worth the effort. If you manage to see it for yourself, here’s hoping your tour goes as well as ours did, minus the evening chill!

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Laurent Jalabert takes on a mountain stage in the 1995 Tour de France

 

 

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A Tale of Two Olympic Champions

It was the spring of 2012 in Oregon, and as we rolled northward on Highway 101 heading for the Washington Coast, there was a touch of excitement in the air. It had been over a decade since we had last visited, yet the smell of salt air, tall trees, and the sound of crashing waves remained fresh in my mind. This story, if you’re wondering by now, is not about two great athletes, as the title might suggest. It’s actually all about two champion trees in Olympic National Park. Ultimately, our destination was Kalaloch Beach, where we would be camping, but along the way I had plans to see the Quinault Lake Cedar.

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Spring sunset on the Washington Coast

It was, I knew, the largest known Western Red Cedar on the planet, and already well over a thousand years old. Having spent so much of my time in the forests of the Pacific Northwest hunting old growth trees, I knew that I needed to see this giant! It was said that its hollow inner chamber was large enough to hold several adult human beings, and that the tree measured over nineteen feet in diameter! When we arrived at Quinault Lake, I regretted not having more time, as the area has many more forest trails that I would hope to hike someday. One such trail leads to one of the world’s largest Sitka Spruces in the world, the Quinault Spruce.

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This sign has since been taken down and the trail is not being used anymore, but there is also a very large Douglas Fir right across from the trailhead

We arrived at the trailhead in early afternoon, and there was just one other car parked there, with Oregon license plates. As it turned out, I met a very nice older couple who had a farm down on the Oregon Coast once I got to the tree, so there were some people to share the experience with. The Quinault Cedar was a mere ten minute walk to reach, and I won’t soon forget the absolute awe that it inspired! While it wasn’t an ideal day for photography, I nevertheless enjoyed my time with this veteran of over ten centuries. I could just imagine the stories it could tell, and thought of the times in which it had lived.

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How’s this for a first impression? I had never seen a cedar that was over nineteen feet wide, at the time

I will often contemplate historical contexts when it comes to the age of trees, just for perspective, so I looked up but a few events of the year 1012, when it may have been born. Here are but a few of them, to accompany some more images of this venerable tree:

In the spring of 1012, King AEthelred (The Unready) resumes the payment of Danegeld, 48,000 lbs of silver, in an attempt to buy off the Viking raiders so that they did not ravage his lands. I’m not sure whether that had anything to do with his nickname.

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The trunks of ancient Western Red Cedars are a delight. Each one is ever fascinating
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A closer look at the trunk

In Ireland, Mael Morda mac Murchada leads a rebellion against High King Brian Boru, but it ends in defeat in 1014 at the Battle of Clontarf.

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The expansive hollow chamber of the Quinault Lake Cedar
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A little attempt at HDR just to show some more detail on the upper crown

All of this preceded the Magna Carta in 1215, by over 200 years, so much has happened in this world since then!

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The top of this aging giant is showing the signs of extreme decline in this photo
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It actually took some time to walk around this tree, so impressive was its girth!

But I digress, this was 2012, and the culmination of many years of scheming to get a chance to see the Quinault Lake Cedar had finally been satisfied, for me. I happily walked back down to the truck, chatting with the fellow from Oregon while his wife hurried on ahead.  He told me he had decided to leave America during the years George Bush had been president and that he had moved to Canada, near where I lived, before moving back again in 2008. He spoke so well of honour, peace and decency toward fellow men. I can only guess at how he might be feeling today, in 2019, because he stressed the importance of protecting public lands and wild places from industrial exploitation. We can never forget the value of natural wonders!

One of the reasons I like to travel is the opportunity to meet people from different places. I would know that man from Oregon in an instant if I met him again, yet ironically I never asked him his name!

 

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Nowhere but in nature could you find something as marvellous as this!

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Soon we were moving on, bound for Kalaloch once again, where we arrived by late afternoon. My wife and I had first visited the campground back in 1988, on our very first road trip to the Pacific Coast. Having grown up in eastern Canada, I had never before seen the roaring surf of the open ocean before. I was instantly hooked! The wind blasted canopies of Sitka Spruce and twisting, spike topped cedars instantly captivated me.

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Coastal Sitka Spruce forest is a revelation, with all the windblown and twisting spires
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I took a photo of this nearby camper to show the scale of this forest. The only thing missing is the wind and the sound of breaking surf!

I also knew that not far from camp was the venerable Kalaloch Cedar, among the most improbable trees in the world, and naturally I planned to pay it another visit the following morning. For now, though, it was time to enjoy some beach walking, cold beer, campfire, and an inspiring sunset. It had been an especially fulfilling day. Here are some memorable visions of Kalaloch, one of my favourite beaches!

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Sitting here and enjoying a few samples from Oregon’s fine Rogue Brewery just made this better!
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Sitka Spruce, Picea Sitchensis
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If you’re ever on Kalaloch Beach, this character, known as The Root Tree, is a popular sight. Coastal rains and root expansion in these soils have exposed its roots. This Sitka Spruce has been this way for at least the thirty years I have known it!
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You can see that the process shown in my previous shot has repeated itself over the years

The sunsets at Kalaloch deserve a chapter of their own! Just sitting on one of the numerous driftwood logs and pondering worlds far away is one of the very best parts of a camping trip. As they say, sharing is caring, so here are a few looks before the sun disappeared over the Pacific Ocean.

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I woke early the next day, choosing to sit quietly outside listening to the birds and the waves while drinking my coffee. To me, those moments of quietude are the ones I live for, and it’s always as though the world makes more sense when everyone else is still sleeping! Soon the sun would begin to rise above the forest, bringing with it the mist that accompanies so many coastal mornings. After breakfast, the Kalaloch Cedar awaited us!

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Well, maybe just one more look. Coffee is good, but coffee with Kalaloch is just that much better!

Visiting this tree had become a rite of passage for my family. Beside our introduction in 1988, we had stopped in to see it again in 1999 when our kids were young. This time it felt just like seeing an old friend. Though it had lost a sizeable limb or two since the last time I was there, much of its grandeur remained well preserved. In its prime, one could have argued that this tree had widest diameter of any other cedar, but its many broken topped leaders showed the struggles of coastal winds. In terms of volume, it ranked in the top ten known Western Red Cedars and for 22 years it was the world champion!

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The former world champion Kalaloch Cedar, one of the gnarliest trees ever!
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The opposite side of the tree, which also supports a number of Western Hemlocks!
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An old friend. There aren’t too many people I have known for over three decades!
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Such an improbable sight, this thousand year old monarch!

I was as overjoyed as ever to see the Kalaloch Cedar on that day, but I had no idea it would be the last time I would see it intact. In March of 2014, it would finally succumb to a powerful storm. Much of its trunk fell away and only part of it remains upright, and it’s a matter of time before its demise is complete. Hearing this was sad, but it’s part of the cycle of life in the forest. Its massive trunk will now decay and return nutrients to the earth, giving rise to new growth.  This excellent video by Exotic Hikes shows you the aftermath of the tree’s untimely destruction.

Just over two years later in the summer of 2016, a similar fate would befall the Quinault Lake Cedar. It too split apart in inclement weather and much of its bulk now rests on the forest floor, approaching the end of its days.

 

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The end of an era for perhaps the greatest cedar of them all!

It marked the end of an era for the world champion, now ceding its title to Vancouver Island’s Cheewhat Lake Cedar, itself an amazing natural creation! Here are some looks at that tree, still strong and incredibly healthy!

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The Cheewhat Lake Cedar

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Though these trees may have lost their lustre, their legends still live on. I am certain that there is a strong chance there are even larger and older cedars hiding in the wilds of Olympic National Park, or perhaps Vancouver Island. For many of us, the dream of discovery, and the magic created by these denizens of the coastal rainforest will always be worth protecting. May they stand forever tall!

 

 

Three Days in March, An Island Sojourn

With a few precious days off and a rare chance to get our whole family together, we headed off to Vancouver Island two Saturdays ago for a short camping vacation.

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BC Ferries, our cruise ship for the trip to Nanaimo
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My daughter with our illustrious family dog Amigo

The idea was to catch an afternoon ferry over to Departure Bay from Horseshoe Bay then hang out in Nanaimo for the first night. There’s a nice private campground at the mouth of the Nanaimo River called  Living Forest Campground that we like to stay at there.

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Georgia Strait on a sunny afternoon

The boat ride over was relatively uneventful and pleasant, so we arrived in Nanaimo at around 230 pm. With some time to spare, we stopped in at Petroglyph Provincial Park for some exploration. We had driven past the park sign for years without ever visiting , and I’m quite glad we finally did. In addition to the petroglyphs, there are also some bouldering possibilities there. We were there for about half an hour, and enjoyed the stay immensely. http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/petroglyph/#

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Queen of the Hill

My daughter has an innate talent for climbing just about anything, so of course she ran up this face to a tiny ledge and scrambled up from there! Naturally, the slide down was twice as much fun, so she did it again and so did I!

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One of the petroglyphs we saw. Is this one authentic? Not so sure
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These are some of the petroglyphs we were certain were legitimate historical relics
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There was some bouldering to be had here as well!

The views at the campground did not disappoint. We were able to see not only the Nanaimo River and Gabriola Island but much of Nanaimo Harbour as well. The blend of the estuary’s natural scenery and the industry beyond gave us plenty to look at, and we passed the rest of the evening drinking cold beverages and listening to the calls of barred owls by the campfire before turning in.

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The view from our campground, with Gabriola Island in the distance
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Cliffs along one of the campground’s trails
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Nanaimo River

The campground has a number of trails that give you a fine view of the river delta and the area is well known for its birdwatching opportunities as well.

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Nanaimo Harbour gathering dusk

The following day we awoke to overcast skies and headed south along Highway 1 toward Victoria before swinging west toward Sooke on Highway 14. The spring rains hit hard late Sunday morning, as we arrived in Langford to fuel up.

Sunday’s destination? French Beach Provincial Park. It has become a family favourite of ours over the years. Set in a beautiful forest of cedar and Sitka spruce, it features a cobblestone beach that crashes and rattles when the Pacific surf crashes its shores. If you’re lucky, you can also catch glimpses of migrating gray whales in March and April.

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French Beach

Along the way, my wife and daughter got a chance to stop off at a local meadery called Tugwell Creek near the town of Shirley to sample its wares.

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http://tugwellcreekfarm.com

Mead, if you’ve not heard of it before, is an alcoholic beverage, wine to be specific, made with honey! Tasty stuff, and something to do while you wait out the rainstorm, which by now was hitting us in full stride! We pulled in at French Beach by mid afternoon, and after a very wet hike on the nearby trails, we spent the rest of the day drying out.

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One rainy afternoon!
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Coastal Sitka Spruce rainforest

These rocks below are the cobbles that generate the signature sounds of French Beach, especially on days of high surf and brisk winds. This place as as unique for its sound experience as it is for anything else.

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Sometimes it rains so much on the coast that attempting to have a campfire is almost an exercise in futility, and this Sunday was just such a day. We amused ourselves by drinking, reading, creating dinner, and playing games, all good fun!

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The kids clowning it up on the beach
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The shoreline, with its wind battered Sitka Spruce
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Intertidal marsh created by high surf

 

Monday morning dawned with much improved weather, and upon seeing some sunlight, I made for the beach that morning. The tide was at ebb, but the waves were much higher and the beach clattered with its all too familiar sounds. I was able to see across the waters to the Olympic Peninsula and Washington state, in the United States.

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After the rains

While there were no whales in sight, the odd Harbour Seal popped its head out in curiosity. Seas were calm, and birds could be heard when the surf receded. Listen, if you like, to the sounds of French Beach in the video below…

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Salal and driftwood
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Calm seas
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Salmonberry in bloom

 

I returned to camp and ended up going back to the beach again with my son, who had just awakened. We spent another half hour there before breakfast. He has a natural love of being near water, even to the point that he often prefers to walk in the rain.

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Clatter!

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This photo below had me thinking back to a time when he couldn’t peer through an outhouse  window six feet off the ground. Time flies, and your kids grow up fast!

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“Scared ya, didn’t I?” He says to me.

We eventually decided to head north toward Port Renfrew, with the idea of camping on the beach at Jordan River. Unfortunately, the CRD has temporarily closed the area to camping while a dam above the town is being assessed for safety reasons. Some time was spent on the beach watching surfers and paddleboarders out on the break.

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Jordan River, popular with sufers and paddleboarders

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Jordan River surf shack through the trees

Since the sunshine was holding true, the choice was made to reverse directions and retrace our steps toward Nanaimo again. This time the plan was to stay the night at Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park near Parksville. Though this meant a little longer on the road, it would also make for a more relaxed return trip the next day as the park is not all that far from Departure Bay. On the way back toward Sooke we stopped at Sandcut Beach Regional Park, which is not too far from French Beach, and my daughter and I hiked down to the shores.

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Sandcut Beach

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It was an ideal cruising day for the trip around the horn, as the sunshine persisted. We even pulled over  to pick up some farm fresh eggs in Sooke along the way. On this Monday, even the people driving the Malahat near Victoria didn’t seem to have their usual frenzied sense of urgency, and we hit little or no traffic until we arrived in Nanaimo.

It was about 4 pm when we rolled into Rathtrevor Beach. Once there, I tended to splitting some firewood and we took turns walking the beach and trails. Rathtrevor is a special place to me, as I always see something interesting that I hadn’t before, whether it be animals, trees, or distant mountains.

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Afternoon on the beach at Rathtrevor

The park is noted not only for its beach but also for its forests of old growth Douglas Fir. There are very few low elevation fir forests that remain intact on Vancouver Island as most of them have been harvested long ago. There is considerable biodiversity and wildlife that lives on there despite the area’s popularity in the summer months. The beach and its reasonably sheltered waters make it ideal for watersports like kayaking and canoeing too.

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Douglas Fir

I had not noticed on my last visit, but you can see the hulking mass of Tantalus Mountain, 2605 metres tall, visible in the distance.

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Tantalus Mountain, in Tantalus Provincial Park, across the waters, 55X zoom
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The forest

I was particularly interested in seeing what the sunset had to offer after dinner and a couple of very cold beers, so I walked back to the beach just as the sun was beginning to set.

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Texada Island in the distance
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Looks like I found me a friend who also likes sunset watching!
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Tantalus again, with alpenglow
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Campfire!

I had already known that Rathtrevor was an epic place to catch the sunrise, but I certainly was more than contented with the sunset too. It was a very quiet scene, silent but for the odd call of the occasional owl. It’s very obvious why the people of Parksville enjoy this place so much as it’s one of the island’s most beautiful parks. More beer and laughter ensued late into the night, but that wasn’t going to deter me from getting up early to see the sunrise!

It’s 6 am Tuesday morning, and I’m rolling out of bed trying not to wake anyone, a normal occurrence on our road trips. As someone who craves solitude, something I take naturally to but that was well reinforced spending mornings with my father while younger, there is really nothing quite like the sun’s first rays. A mere five minute walk had me on the beach to begin the day.

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Gerald Island is the largest, I think, with Mistaken Island and some of the Ballenas Islands in there as well
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Looking toward Howe Sound and the Britannia Range
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Heart of the sunrise

This, however, was no ordinary sunrise. The whole time I was there, the natural world virtually paraded before me. First, there were the calls of loons, followed by herons swooping by above. Then came the sounds of eagles, woodpeckers, and songbirds. Canada Geese flew across the waters at intervals as did Brants, and the entire time I was serenaded by the barking of sea lions.

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My friend’s back too!
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Sunlit trees of Rathtrevor Beach

It was soon evident that there were sea lions everywhere, perhaps as many as fifty, from where I was observing. I later was to discover that there was a run of herring going on, so of course the food source was what was drawing all the attention. When I returned to the beach later with my son, we also spotted a killer whale breaching in the distance and a few harbour seals, and not long after that a sizable pod of dolphins also showed up to the party. It was one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had in some time.

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One last look…

Reluctantly, I headed back to camp for breakfast, and the girls set out for a walk on the trails for a while before we left for home. As I write this today, with the rain crashing down here on Vancouver’s North Shore, it reminds me of how much I appreciate sunny spring days here on the west coast. This trip was well worth the time. Here is another image taken on the deck of the ferry, looking toward Mt Garibaldi, the closest volcano to Greater Vancouver. Until next time…

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