Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Whistler

Spending two weeks in the world class skiing/mountain biking area of Whistler (B.C.) is hardly what I would classify as suffering. When I arrived last Wednesday night, after saying goodbye (temporarily) to Sadie, Virginia and Dan, I wondered if I'd find enough to do to keep busy. To begin with, there's running water. Running HOT water. A miracle of sorts. And electricity. As far as I know it hasn't shut off even once. So if nothing else, I can soak in the jacuzzi or watch DVD's, but I've really got plenty of other things to do.

I lit a couple of candles during dinner last night just to reminisce about life in Kinshasa, offering a romantic ambiance for the Pinot Grigio I opened to accompany fresh "Sox steak," a term the locals use for sockeye salmon. For $5.00, I was able to purchase a rather substantial and delicious piece. I may try the tuna tonight. Fish was not on the menu very often in Kinshasa, although you could get some pretty good capitaine out of the Congo River.

The other day, I pulled up to the condo and was going to get out of the car when I saw a smallish brown bear ascending the steps to the condo. He snooped around and not finding anything interesting meandered along the sidewalk. After waiting a few minutes, I quickly went up the steps and got inside. No camera to document that one, but it was vividly imprinted on my mind.

Today, I decided to be adventuresome and take a little hike in the nearby forest. I had been doing some reading about various areas and was feeling confident that I could manage by myself, as long as I had a map to follow, which I did. Knowing there really are bears out there just heightened my desire to conquer the wilderness, which seemed pretty tame because of the well-marked trails. I found the Brandywine Provincial Park with ease. Paid parking? You've got to be kidding. How civilized is this? So I had a nice chat with a couple from Germany, paid my $3.00 and walked to the Brandywine Falls, a beautiful 66 meter drop into the blueish-green water below, then flowing into the unbelievably gorgeous Daisy Lake. The water evidently takes on the color of the rocks around it, almost an artificial teal color.

The signs pointed to the Suspension Bridge only 3.5 kilometers out. On I went in the sunshine, clapping my hands occasionally to let any wildlife out there know that I was in the vicinity. Never saw anything or anyone, until I got to the Calcheak suspension bridge over the Callaghan Creek just before it meets the Cheakamus River. There were four bikers on their way to the falls. I trekked across the bridge and rewarded myself with a ham/cheese on naan (Indian bread). Instead of walking back the way I came, I followed a sign that said "To Brandywine Falls," which in theory would make a nice loop. The weather is now starting to cloud over. The trail is becoming less marked and more overgrown with fallen trees, rocks, marshy areas. I'm doing ok, but wondering if this was a good decision. Maybe I should turn back? I finally can hear the falls. Whew. I must be close. So I sit down and have the last of my snacks, an orange, viewing a quiet pond below. When I got up to start walking again, the trail went straight, I'm not kidding, off a cliff. Not interested in scaling down the mountain, I retraced my steps, but couldn't quite remember which direction I needed to go to get back. By this time, I'm feeling the rain, but reminded myself NOT TO PANIC, even though I started shouting "Hello!" hoping someone might be listening. Wonder of wonders, I spotted an orange diamond on a tree, pointing the way somewhere, even if it was back to the suspension bridge. I didn't care, whatever way I could get out, I would go, so I started walking, even though the sound of the falls was getting farther away. The orange diamonds on the trees turned into orange plastic ribbons and then there were no more--just blue ribbons forging over a creek on a huge fallen tree. I couldn't believe that was the route. Why didn't I know what blue ribbons mean when you're hiking?

Ok, so I forged the creek but on the other side was thick overgrown brush, about six feet high. Do I bushwhack through it? What to do? I walked for a few minutes along side of it until I could see a clearing. Railroad tracks: Hallelujah! This was as good as it gets because I remembered crossing the tracks near the falls. But...now the questions was which way? Because it was cloudy I had no idea where the sun was. My map said which way north was, but without knowing where I was, without a compass goes without saying, I had to guess. I started going right, on the gut feeling that I had come from that direction, but then I second guessed myself, turned around and went left after taking in as many factors as I could: sound, light in the sky, curve in the railroad tracks ahead possibly matching the curve noted on my map, and a gradual uphill grade.

So after walking around the bend, there were people! I had circled back to the original parking area. Yes, I learned my lesson. All the books say, don't go hiking alone. Good advice, which I will adhere to from now on.

2 Comments:

At August 14, 2008 at 12:11 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow! While reading about your adventurous hike, I was a bit nervous...remembering my days with bear encounters in the Northwoods at Honey Rock (not quite the same as brown bears up at Whistler, though). Then I remembered you'd written this entry AFTER you returned from getting home safely. I love being out in nature as well, even by myself, but the unknown creeps me out sometimes. ;) Glad you enjoyed the hike and navigated with your senses to get back safely.
Cheers!

 
At August 14, 2008 at 3:47 PM , Blogger MeJane said...

Hi Dutchy: Because I can't respond directly to you through the blog and have no address for you on file, this is my only way of communicating with you. If someone else reading this has Elizabeth Vanderveen's email address, would you please give it to me? Thanks! I'd love to correspond with her directly, but in lieu of that, I'll just add to her note, that while I was "lost," (maybe "missplaced" is a better word?)I recited the 23rd Psalm a few times. I never realized how literal that Psalm could be! Love to you--keep watching the blog. And if I don't write for a while, send out the mounted police for a middle-aged American woman! Jane

 

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