Running solo, I knew how to do well, but leading a group on a multi-day adventure not so well. This time it would be six trucks running a few hundred kilometres of dirt roads, a run that I’d done solo and “knew” how long it took. We were on day 3 of our adventure, and were standing under the epic sign that points to Gold Bridge, Lillooet and Braelorne,
Lesson #5 When Brake Lines Go Bad
We arrived in the meadow with the 3-way signs that always remind me of Dr. Seuss; Where to go? Here, There – Everywhere! Of course, we decided the only appropriate option was Everywhere; as we’d already been here and there, Poison Mountain was more apt to be everywhere.
We meandered down the well-travelled pathway until the trail diverged into the sought-after branch. One that would lead us to an elevation that truly makes one understand just how insignificant they are in the landscape before them. As a group, we slowly ascended to the top; those that hadn’t been here before were left speechless at the vista that lay before them.
There, at the apex of the mountain range, your soul sees one of the 7 wonders of BC. Where you can picture yourself travelling through this desolate land on horseback, not seeing anyone for days with very limited signs of any human impacts.
Coming up the hill, Shaun had noticed his truck acting oddly and decided to check his brake lines. At this time, parked at 7,428 feet elevation with close to a 23% descent down, Shaun realized his rear brake line was no longer functioning. And there was no way it would help him control his descent if four low, first gear wouldn’t cut it.
Jody stepped in, as he was always doing on trail runs for others. In that very brisk, chilling to the bone wind, he worked with the parts to McGuyver a solution that would allow a safe descend back down. As there was this desire to ensure there was no need to press that button on the SPOT, we then used tow straps to attach Shaun’s Jeep to the front of Tony’s truck.
Lesson #6 – When Flats develop in the not so flat land
I sat at the top, watching Shaun and Tony descend safely, then followed behind everyone at the rear. Arriving at the bottom, I realized the jeep seemed unsymmetrical and checked the tires. Somewhere along that very well-loved trail, the tire had decided that it wanted to ride on the rear carrier for a better view. I called ahead to the guys, with the harassment never-ending about being the damsel in distress. They returned as they would be speedier, quickly swapping out the tire for me. I kept thinking that I needed to stop wheeling with others, as it seemed a trend was developing in which I only got flats when wheeling with others.
Lesson #7 – It may not be a bear that ends my wheeling life
We continued rambling down the trails, enjoying the vistas and the alpine foliage, with the stunted growth always reminding me of a grove of Bonsai trees. We reached that legendary sign marked “China,” which would show us where to embark on the journey to God’s land. The last time I’d been through was about 48 hours before the slide, and as we drove around the detour, I witnessed the enormity of what could have landed on me. I realized then that it might not be a grizzly, or the jeep wheel landing 2 inches too far to the driver’s side of a 1,000-foot cliff might do me in.
We reached the bluffs that have given China Head its legendary status, with hundreds of kilometres visible in every direction. No sign of life is visible, except bare grassland; there is no trace that even mother nature can survive the exposure to the elements wrought upon that region. When alone, your soul is placed in a juxtaposition of finding the final keys to self-acceptance and peace, but also must face any terrors one has bout being alone and facing desolation.
We enjoyed a few more spectacular vistas, but dinner was nearing, and it was time to camp. Several of the others suggested camping in the open air under the stairs would end the day perfectly; however, in the back of my mind was the possibility of the winds raising their heads.
Lesson #8 – Old Cowboys are never far away
Not wanting to turn into human glaciers with the winds that night, we kept going until we were a bit past the tree line. We found a quiet campsite that comfortably fit the trucks, giving everyone space. The guys wanted a fire, and as there was no ban, a small one was made for everyone to sit around and share a few trail stories. At one point Adrian’s pup let out the loudest yelp; we all were concerned an ember had hit him. However, turns out he had simply forgotten he could move if he got too hot.
As the evening drew later, a guardian spirit appeared over our fire and his trusty sidekick. Perhaps I was the only one who saw him that night. However, my camera seemed to capture him as well. He watched those around me, smiling that they were enjoying this pristine land in the same way he had so many years before.
Waking up the next morning, under the perfectly blue stratosphere, we continued the quest and headed towards Lillooet. Driving through one of the grassland areas, we decided to visit a rather large vocal bull. I traipsed around, finding a rather unique discarded pelvic bone, which Adrian had decided he needed as his new hood ornament.
My heart yearned to head to the Big Bar Ferry; alas, it was time to head South as our days were up. We headed along the West side of the river into Lillooet, stopping in at the observation area, allowing us to capture a few shots of those who were indigenous to the area fishing. It was time to part ways with most of the group, as reality called them; however, Shaun and I had another day before we needed to touch pavement.
The extra time, provided a wonderful opportunity to take a very slow trip along the West side of the Canyon to the Lytton Ferry, stopping along the way to explore the abandoned structures. And, of course, the obligatory visit to the fascinating group of mountain goats that always seem to show up around 5 PM along the route. The last gas-up and ice cream were at hand before we headed towards Nahatlatch to camp at the old ranger’s cabin, the one with the beautiful outdoor tub.
Knowing the glaciers provide this mesmerizing view of time frozen before you, we opted to take Kookapi back home the next morning. With one final dirt road stop halfway home, we sat silently alongside the pools etched into the stone through the sheer force of the water of the millennia. We entered Harrison Hot Springs to air up, sadly realizing this signified a need to return to the temporary world of the paved road until next time.
However, on my bucket list is to return to that cabin, maybe in January, when I can have the area alone. Then fill up that tank, start a fire in the bottom and let the water run into the tub. I truly can’t imagine anything more intimate and life-fulfilling than soaking in a piping hot tub of water, the mist coming off the lake, listening to the loons and having it all to yourself.
Trix's Trax 