The Trip
Short Version: I went camping. There was no mustard.
Long Version: I went back country camping and experienced ultimate highs and lows. I was in the bushes for nearly ninety hours and had a fantastic time with Gord and Tyler. I could stretch this post out, carefully detailing the trip, but I will leave that to Gord to do. My post will act as a Coles Notes of what transpired.
Thursday started out with a 3 hour and 45 minute drive to the trail head of the route we would take to Landslide Lake. We had built a large fire, roasted hot dogs and drank beer. This was the kind of camping I know how to do. However Friday morning would introduce me to what back country camping was really like and I had one of the most unpleasant and miserable experiences of my life. I was cold, wet, hungry and pain was starting to develop in my shoulders. Somehow, by the simple act of walking, I pulled my groin so I felt each step. If I was able to walk it I would have been on Death’s Door in minutes.
In the rain we sought refuge, set up camp, got warm and had a nap. By 5PM we had our first meal of the day, my camera still operated after the hike and I could feel my spirits lifting. I was ready to try this back country camping thing again.
The sun was out and Saturday was the highlight of the day with a 2.5 hour day hike to Landslide Lake. I broke my fishing rod in the process of snagging a whale, Ogopogo or a bear. The story changes depending on who you asked. Tyler and Gord did not fair much better with multiple line tangles and stubborn fish. We left the lake early as we could see clouds roll in over the distance and rain was not something we wanted to get caught in again.
A cup of coffee, a fire and a hot meal are wonderful things while out in the elements and each one added to the enjoyment of the trip. On Sunday we hiked the remaining 3.5 hours back to the car, our packs lighter than on Friday, we set off with our feet dry and we all had stories to tell. I began to think this was something I would do again. At the end of the trip my feet had multiple blisters, both groin muscles were sore, my left knee could not bend without pain and my back and shoulders were stiff; all of this seems par for the course.
Jean Farewell
The trip could not have been possible without my jeans. I was told to bring one pair of jeans for the trip and live in them. I lived every last minute of their life from Thursday to Sunday. They survived rain, mud, a hole caused by fire, several treatments of duct tape and hours away from the car the backside ripped, adding an oddly comfortable breeze to my stride.
The jeans were not going into the wash, they went straight into the garbage and proudly served their purpose right to the end.
