May 7-16, 2011
Participants: Yuri Lortscher (22), John Acheson (26)
It’s hard to believe that everything else happened in just one day. In hindsight we should have definitely gotten up earlier. A lot earlier…
The whole paddle of the Wood Arm took longer than it did on the way in because we were battling a slight headwind, and we stopped to talk with some fishermen, or schwarma chefs as we were hoping. Turned out they were closing up shop. Not much market for schwarma shops on the remote shores of Kinbasket Lake. We couldn’t believe it.
Actually I’m not sure these guys knew what a schwarma is. They gave us the googley eyes when we mentioned it… I expect they thought it was some species of fish that they’d never heard of. They also managed to crush our long living dreams of finding monster sized sturgeon in the lake.
After rounding the point, we made our way to Redrock harbour, where we were greeted by a sudden fortress of wind and increasingly large waves.
The whole trip had been a bit of a battle theme, so we forged on, determined to conquer the lake. After a half hour or so of battling and intense nervousness, the both of us relaxed a bit as we resolved ourselves to a long battle to the west shore of the gigantic lake.
There was no other way to cross. We had maybe a kilometer channel to navigate across to the spot in the harbor where we wanted to land. It became quickly apparent that that was not going to happen. I pointed the boat on a slight diagonal to the waves, bringing her around to face the big waves.
Poor John was up front taking on all the water and looking down to the water every time we would crest another five-foot wave. The bleach bottle turned bailer was put to use as we kept our resolve and coursed on to the shore ahead.
Tragedy struck just as we were coming into shore… John lost his hat.
Our knees hurt so much by then that it took us both about 15 minutes before we could walk semi-normally again. It took me about a minute just to get out of the boat.
But we soldiered on, got back in the canoe and made our way to the other side of the bay. Halfway there, we got flipped around by the immense winds, and frantically paddled for shore. It was much more difficult to keep the boat straight with the wind at the stern. I let John have the helm after we waited out the winds for a bit.
One more frantic battle to the shore, and another almost boat spin later, we made it as close as we were going to get. It was about a ten minute portage to the place where we could get the car to. We grabbed as much gear as we could carry, strap, and sling to ourselves, and trudged up the embankment.
I had to go fetch the car. When we parked 8 days previously, there was too much snow on the access road to pass in the MPV. It was definitely passable now. It was full-on summertime on the shores of Kinbasket Lake. I had to strip down to my boxer shorts for the 2km walk.
It was exactly where we left it, with the note on the dash that read “Gone Skiing, back May 17.” I got in, started her up – another victory – and kissed the steering wheel, thankful for her faithfulness. After cruising down to the put in I found John halfway up the portage with a monstrous bundle of gear that he’d slinged in the tarp. I helped him up, and we went to fetch the canoe.
It was so windy that we were worried about being blown over with the full-sized expedition canoe on top of our heads. It certainly made things interesting, but we made it unscathed to the trusty hunk of metal.
We were both fried; from the sun, from the endless lake battle, and from 8 days of constant motion in the mountains... John volunteered to tie the front of the boat down but after about 10 minutes, gave up and handed me the rope.
Eventually we got everything loaded; canoe secured to the roof, and busted a move out of the wild. It was a surreal experience driving after moving under our own power for such a long time. When we finally got back to the highway - after navigating about 10km of logging road and passing a very confused looking Asian tourist – 80km/h felt WAY too fast.
The scenery zoomed by at an incredible rate. Every time another BC Hydro vehicle zoomed past me going the opposite direction, I had to clench the steering wheel so that I wouldn’t loose my marbles. I remember thinking of how many people travel and see the world this way, myself included. They miss so much. That is the beauty of these remote experiences: you see everything, feel the world around you, slow down and listen to what is going on.
We stop at the CMH Monashee lodge for water, and I’m still not used to this driving business. The situation improves by the time we roll into Revelstoke for a much needed burger. We get gas and coffee and continue on the quest for home.
I make it to Golden, tripping out towards the end because I’m so tired. We come upon a massive highway construction project, and I think I’m dreaming. I have never seen such a large-scale operation before. Lights and dust are everywhere. Loaders and excavators are plentiful and working at full capacity. It is like a grown up sandbox with all the toys you could possibly want.
A water truck is driving around to keep the dust down. We follow it partway to town before it turns off to another zone of the site.
In Golden we find a closed Tim Horton’s, so we make our way to the only place that is always open: the Husky. It’s 11:30 at night and we still have a solid three hours of driving to do.
More construction, a snooze and a few emotions later, we’re driving through Canmore, passing by closed gas stations and continuing on our way. “We should make it to the Petro-Can at least,” I say.
Another driver switch on the highway, some rockin beats and 45 minutes later we’re getting gas. I drive through downtown Calgary to get to Ramsay, catching what seems like every yellow light on 9th ave. I drop John off and drive home with all our gear in the car still.
It’s 3:30 in the morning. It’s over. Tomorrow: Gear spew, cleaning, organizing, catching up on life… Time to find a job.
Unreal adventure buddy. I can decide if I'm outrageously envious or thankful that I skipped out on that lake battle!
ReplyDeleteHaha, you should be envious if anything... The boat ride was the most memorable part of the trip I think. But we didn't get to ski Clemenceau - or anything else around there. Lots of getting around, good food, sick views, and big decisions.
ReplyDelete