Make days count

When you realize that you have fewer days ahead of you than days behind you…

I can not tell you how much that has changed my thinking. 

best make them count…

#RandOMTHoUGhts

jh

Oh the tale this trail could tell..

there was a day... when I was young...
some things that made me who I am today...

As we would often do, bushpunk and I went hiking and camping in some fairly remote areas.
While staying at bushpunks grandparents in Balfour BC, we decided we would do a back county hike to Wheeler Lake.

Getting to this lake was no small feat. At this time, it was only accessible by a very rough logging road that required us to get out several times and clear the path so that his Grandfather could continue driving us.

Eventually, we came to a point that travel in the van was no longer an option and bushpunk and I set out on foot to hike the remaining 10 miles of trail to reach the lake. So off we set, packs on our backs and Samson his trusty dog leading the way for us on the trail that would eventually take us to the lake. The day was a beautiful, warm and sunny. Really a picture perfect day without a cloud in the sky.

After hiking a short distance, we came upon a dried creek bed that had about a 10 foot drop on our side of the trail. All along the bottom, the creek-bed was covered in Nettles. For those that do not know, Nettles have stinging hairs on them and are most unpleasant to have a run-in with. This posed an issue for us as we needed to reach the other side to continue along the way to Wheeler lake.

Looking up and down the creek-bed, we noticed a fallen tree crossing the creek and creating a perfect bridge for us. Up to this point, Samson was leading the way up the path, but he was unsure about balancing his way across this log. With that, bushpunk set off in the lead and made it successfully to the other side. Calling Samson to entice him to go next, but Samson would not have anything to do with crossing the log. At this point I decided I would make my way to the other side, believing that with both bushpunk and me over there, Samson would be more motivated to come over with us.

I begin to make my way across the log, feeling a little unsteady as it sure looked wider before I set foot on it. As I made may way across the log, my back and forth movements of keeping my balance, I sense my pack is not sitting as best as it should, but I continue along slowly.
Samson at this point decided he was not going to risk being left behind, and makes a run for the other side where bushpunk was. I am about midway across and about 10 feet off the ground and Samson is pushing at the back of my leg to get to bushpunk. My back pack shifts and I feel all my weight shift… and down I go…right onto the patch of Nettles.

Looking up, I see both bushpunk and Samson looking down at me with a bit of concern. Luckily for me, my pack and gear absorbed the fall…along with the nettles that were about 5 feet tall. Once I assessed that I was unscathed, I picked myself up and pondered how I would get out of the creek-bed, now that I was completely surrounded by these menacing Nettles….

The only way out was to hoof it through them to the other side and scramble up the steep embankment with the help of bushpunk from above. Once this little diversion was over, we continued on the trail to the lake.

We were nearing the lake when we caught the stench of rotting flesh coming through the trees. This can often be an indicator that bears are in the area and one should leave. Samson was growling steadily and looking into the woods. We increased our pace and made it though the final parts of the trail, making as much noise and we possibly could along the way.

With out much warning we literally popped out of the trees and onto a clearing that jutted out into the lake. Wheeler Lake is the stereotypical mountain lake. Completely surrounded by trees and steep terrain all around, giving a very closed in feeling except for the small opening to the south where the lake drained into a creek that eventually empties into the Kootenay Lake.

We took in the lake and then began the job of setting up our camp as night fall would be upon us quickly. With the shear mountain to the West, the sun would disappear very quickly.

Once we were set up, we took out fishing gear out went and dropped our lines into the lake hoping we would catch a fish for our supper. What a surprise we had. The first cast into the water each of us made, we both pulled out a small, but very suitable fish for each of our supper. We quickly cooked up the fish for supper, coated in butter and pepper over the open fire and it was probably the best meal we could have ever had.

As we knew we were deep in bear territory and most likely Grizzly, we did all the proper preparations for such a situation. Our packs and food were hung up in a big tree some distance away from our camp, or at least as far aways as we could with the density of the forest around us. We also carefully cleaned our cooking gear so not to attract any unwanted guests. 

We spent the night, by the fire, Samson laying between us, the reflection of the fire in the lake, and the sky alive with stars. It was amazing!

Feeling tired, we decide to go to sleep as we had to head back down to the road tomorrow where bushpunk's grandfather was going to pick us up. We stoked up the fire before crawling into the tent with the thought that would discourage any bear from coming right into the campsite. No such luck.

After being asleep for a few hours, Samson began a very low growl waking both bushpunk and me up. At that point we could hear the heavy breathing of a bear coming from behind our tent. bushpunk covered Samson completely trying to keep him from growling and bringing attention to us in the tent. The bear continued to grunt and snort as it casually ambled around the campsite, occasionally bumping into a guy-wire for the tent. The foul smell of rotten flesh in the air around us. Both bushpunk and I clutched our knifes ready to do what ever had to be done if the bear decided to investigate the tent.

The bear casually strolled between the fire and our tent, their body blocking the light. Then continued to grunt and snort and made their way out of the campsite, seeming totally not giving a shit to us being there. That however was the end of us sleeping that night. We both laid there, ears straining to listen for any sound that came from the forest behind us.

Morning came slowly, but as the sun peeked over the mountain, we were greeted with a most spectacular sight. The lake had a light steam rising off of the surface and the water looked as if it was boiling with fish surfacing to catch the morning bugs on the water.

We made breakfast for ourselves and then began clean up of the campsite. Once done we began our journey back down the trail to the logging road that his Grandpa was going to meet us on. We knew we were going to be at the meeting spot early, but we were happy to sit there and not be as close to the bear that we now knew was in the area.

bushpunk's grandfather picked us up and drove us back to the house by Balfour , with the two of us sleeping in the back of his van, having another adventure under or belts.

…things you remember when looking at at map.

jh