Okanagan Valley

Flying from Victoria over the Strait of Georgia back to Vancouver, I decided to land at the Boundary Bay airport instead of the grass strip at Delta where Scott and I had landed before. The main reason was becuase with my broken toe I thought it would be easier to get to and from CZBB with less walking. Boundary Bay is the 4th busiest airport in all of Canada in terms of air traffic! They have multiple flight schools, hundreds of aircraft parked all over the place, and the runways of the old WWII era delta formation are currently under construction for upgrading and expansion! What a contrast to all the old delta triangle airports I've seen across the country where only one of the three runways have been maintained, and often shortened to further reduce upkeep costs. Anyway, the airport was busy enough that it was quite easy for me to hitch hike from there. When I was picked up I asked to just be dropped off at the nearby bus terminal, but Andrew, a student pilot originally from South Korea, saw me limping along and offered to drive me all the way into the city. With rush hour traffic it was over an hour drive but he took me right to Brad's house! I'm recalling now something I said before the onset of this journey a few months ago, "I can't wait to need the help of a stranger". Well there it is, a total stranger going out of his way to help someone in need. I wish those sorts of good deeds were more common in our culture, so often we pass by a stranger in need and don't even think to help.

Brad and I had a beer while we watched the Oilers give away the Stanley Cup, and then we walked to a nice Thai restaurant for some yummy curry and pad Thai.

It took me two full hours in the morning to get from Brad's place back to the Boundary Bay airport. I took two different buses and then had to start walking. I hobbled almost 5km from the bus terminal to the airport, attempting to hitch hike along the way but with no success. After takeoff, it was only another 2 hrs in the air, with slight tail winds and gentle updrafts, before I landed at Penticton in the Okanagan Valley. Penticton is south of Kelowna, situated right between Lake Okanagan and Lake Skaha, with beaches on both lakes and fruit orchards and vineyards on the surrounding hillsides. It looks like a scene straight out of Italy or France. The approach at Penticton was breathtaking, descending over Lake Skaha and touching down just seconds after crossing over the beach which is only a few hundred feet from the end of the runway.

After I parked the plane and got everything packed up, I was told that camping on the grass beside the plan was not aloud. The airport administration people were very official and strict, not like the casual people you find at the smaller town airports. So I was going to have to camp at one of the tourist camp sites by the lake, but that was going to cost $20/night, and I was starting to think "Wait a minute here, I haven't paid for a single night's accommodation on this trip yet, why should I start now?". So I decided that come hell or high water I was going to find a place to pitch my tent for free. Not five minutes later as I was still walking along the airport road, I spotted another Aircoupe! So, I walked over to talk to the person who was standing beside it, watering the grass or something, and then I noticed right in from the Coupe was another older Ercoupe. Incredible! The man didn't own either of them, but he said I'd be welcome to pitch my tent there beside the flying club building. So I did, right between the two Ercoupes.

It was evening time and I was hungry, so I hiked about 4km to the nearest grocery store to buy a loaf of bread, some trail mix, and toothpaste. I already had half a jar of peanut butter left over from the one Scott and I bought in Salmon Arm. On the way out of the shopping mall I noticed some cherry trees in the parking lot so I walked over and and stuffed my face with free, perfectly ripe BC cherries! Walking back to the airport I thought I'd try hitch hiking again to save my aching knee and toe, and was picked up by a guy named Shawn. His old station wagon reeked of pot, but hey, this is BC. He was quite interested in my trip and just as he dropped me off near the airport he said "well, I guess we'll see ya when we see ya". So I settled myself into my tent between the two Ercoupes, and had my fill of peanut butter sandwiches before doing a little journal writing and going to sleep. In the morning I packed everything up, left what I wouldn't need for the day in the airplane, and headed out with my camera and water bottle to find some wineries to tour. The night before Shawn had recommended going to the nearby village of Naramata where there are several estates in the same area. So I started walking down the highway that would take me to Naramata, walking backwards with my thumb out, thinking "so this is hitch hiking, hmmm, doesn't seem that bad" and two minutes later a car pulls over, amazing! At this point hitch hiking was looking really easy. And when I got closer to the car I couldn't believe it, it was Shawn again in his old smelly station wagon, what are the odds?!

Instead of just dropping me off in town where I thought I could take a bus to Naramata, Shawn drove me all over Penticton showing me the sights, downtown, the beach, and then even up to a lookout on a huge hill from where you can see the entire town and both lakes. Eventually he dropped me off at the first of a string of wineries, the Red Rooster. From there I walked up the Naramata Road to the Hillside Estates Winery where I did some wine tasting and pretended to know what I was talking about when asked to compare the 2005 Reisling to the 2004 Chardonnay, or something like that. Eventually I made it right to the Naramata village where there was also lots to see. Art galleries, more wineries, book stores, the Village Grounds cafe, the local farmers market at a park on the beach, so many things to take pictures of.

It took about an hour of hitch hiking out of town before a girl and her mom finally picked me up in their old volvo station wagon. They could only take me as far as downtown Penticton, so it was another 4.5km walk back to the airport. Shortly after changing clothes and setting up my tent again beside the flying club, I walked the 4.5km AGAIN right back into town to check out the Blue Mule, apparently the place to go for night life. It got pretty crowded, mostly scantily clad, fake n' bake 19-21 year old bar stars with their muscle shirt boyfriends. One funny sight was this really old man, must have been at least 75, dancing with a tiny little girl, probably about 20 and definitely a stripper. I met a few people from Saskatchewan but lost interest in the scene before long and finally just took a cab back to the airport.

The next morning I decided to take a dip in Lake Skaha. What woke me up was the sound of foot steps outside the tent. I crawled out to see that the owner of the of the Ercoupes was getting it ready for a flight. So I told him about my trip, talked to him for a while comparing and trading Coupe stories, and then packed up camp while I taxied out for a short local flight before his day of work. There was nobody else at the beach, but it was nice, water wasn't too cold. I thought I'd try once more to hitch hike into town, but by this time I'd already done a lot of hitch hiking that sure resembled regular walking. Other than my good fortune with Andrew in Vancouver, and with Shawn picking me up twice in Penticton, I was finding hitch hiking to be quite a frustrating experience as dozens and dozens of people alone in their vehicles would zoom by without a thought or a care. Meanwhile my knee and my toe were really slowing me down. But I was fortunate once again and was picked up by 3 young fruit picking hippies from Quebec. They were headed into town to look for used bikes so they brought me to the used book store and after a while of looking around we met up again and drove out to the airport. They had found a bike and were going to drive back to Osoyoos where they were working and living on an orchard, but with the bike they didn't have room for all 3 of them in the car. I was planning on flying down to Osoyoos that afternoon anyway, so I offered to take one of them with me in the plane. I had to put most of my luggage in the trunk of their car to keep from going over max gross weight, but I had their friend as collateral so I knew they wouldn't take off with my stuff. I later found out that my new passenger wasn't actually a friend of theirs, he was actually just another hitch hiker that they'd picked up earlier that day! Anyway, they met us in Osoyoos eventually at the beach where all the hippies hang out and I retrieved my belongings.

That night after another cheap grocery store supper, they took me back to my plane where I packed up what I'd need to camp for the night, and by their recommendation I hiked to the infamous "French Hill" where a huge community of young Quebecois backpackers congregate every summer, a place to live while they pick fruit, mostly cherries in the surrounding orchards. Technically they're squatters but the RCMP seams to turn a blind eye to their little colony on the hill in order to keep them out of the town. I found the band of gypsies to be very friendly and welcoming. I pitched my tent on the hill, surrounded by desert shrubs and dozens of other tents, and found a seat by the camp fire. I talked to anyone who spoke English, including a guy from Morocco, played some hacky sack, and then tried to go to sleep while the gypsies partied late into the night, singing and laughing and drinking. I was told in the morning that the next night would be an even wilder and much larger party, celebrating St. Jean de Baptiste Day with everything from tarot card readers, flaming torch jugglers, dozens of musical instruments, all kinds of crazy gypsy merriment, but alas I could not stay. I wanted to get to Rossland to see Yannie and her family. So I hiked back down French Hill to the airport, flew the short distance to the town of Oliver to buy fuel, and then over a couple mountain ridges and along some winding valleys to the airport at Trail, BC. Three days wasn't nearly enough to fully explore the Okanagan, so I'm sure I'll be back again some day...

Vancouver Island!

It's very difficult to paraphrase into a short blog the incredible events of about 2 weeks on Vancouver Island, but I will do my best to hit the highlights, and leave some of the finer details to be further documented in the film, eventually.

So, after a short visit with B-Rad in Vancouver, Scott took the ferry over to Victoria and Brad and I flew the short 30min flight over the Georgia Strait to the Victoria International Airport. We passed Scott's ferry along the way and the timing was perfect for our friend Justin, who lives in Victoria, to pick up Scott at the ferry terminal and then pick up Brad and I at the airport nearby. So, Justin got full points for timing the pick ups without anyone waiting, however, unlike our host Ben in Calgary and Brad in Vancouver, Justin did NOT greet us with cold beers. But, we were able to make up for it later with some local micro-brewery ales.

We gave ourselves only 1.5 days in Victoria to prepare for the epic West Coast Trail (WCT) hike because we wanted to capitalize on the window of sunny weather that was forecast for the island. Our first stop was at my aunt Mary and uncle Deg's house in Esquimalt where the four of us barged in unannounced for dinner and to pick up some camping supplies of mine that they had taken west for me from Alberta the previous week. Scott and I were particularly greatful for the delicious home cooked meal considering our staple through the BC interior had been peanut butter sandwiches. That same night we met up with some friends of Justin's who are avid backpackers and gave us many useful recommendations of what to bring and what not to bring. We stocked up on high density, high calorie groceries, stopped at the Mountain Equipment Co-op for about $300 worth of gear, stove fuel and energy bars, and then began to assemble everything back at Justin's house. In the back yard we set up tents, checked to make sure all our gear worked, waterproofed boots, etc. Inside we spread groceries all over the living room, repackaging everything for better packing efficiency. When all four packs tipped the scales at about 45lbs each we were ready for bed.

In the morning we hurried out the door after a quick breakfast and a quick excel spreedsheet to figure out the cost sharing of all the food and supplies. We somehow crammed all our packs into the back of Justin's tiny little Ford Festiva, and drove about 2 hrs up to Port Renfrew for our WCT orientation session. After we'd been adequately informed and warned of the perils that lie ahead, mostly bears, cougars, wolves, slippery rocks and ladders, broken and tipsy boardwalks and the threat of hypothermia, we took a ferry across a short inlet to where the actual trail begins.

We tightened up our shiny clean hiking boots, donned our new goretex gators, and struck off into the rainforest. All of us were immediately in awe. I couldn't believe the imensity of the trees and the intricate canopy formed by their giant moss covered branches. The forest floor was a profusion of lush ferns and colorful, wet flowers.

At a moderate pace we were right on track to make the first camp site well before dark, but we didn't want to push it too hard and rush to the second camp site to arrive late in the evening. The first 22km at the south end of the trail are the most technically challenging and slowest to cover. We averaged close to only 1km/hr while climbing ladder after ladder after ladder, and often had to slow down to find ways around giant mud holes or walk carefully balanced along slippery logs suspended in the air. This was our first day, we wanted to be safe and we certainly didn't want to hike such long days that we wouldn't have any time to enjoy the beaches along the way. We had scheduled and planned our food for a 6 day hike, with enough extra for a 7th day if necessary.

The first camp site "Thrasher Cove" was incredible. Imagine a pristine deserted beach on the Pacific Ocean, with soft warm sand, blue skies, an abundance of dry drift wood for camp fires, and a nearby stream of all natural, crystal clear drinking water. And imagine having all that, all to yourself. We did. We tore off our packs and smelly socks and ran laughing into the freezing cold sea. We rested against massive logs of drift wood on the warm sand, completely exhausted after only covering the first 6km of the 77km trail. Every tool, every piece of clothing and rain gear, every ounce of food that we would require to hike through that 77km of trail, was all in our 4 backpacks. We were self sufficient, independant, all of a sudden cut off completely from the world of civilization and the conveniences of plumbing, electricity and effortless transportation.

Above all else, we were told, the most important thing to pack on a hiking trip, is really really really good food. And it's so true. There are few minutes in the day while hiking through the woods that your thoughts are not occupied by what's for dinner when you make it to the next camp site. And on that first night, boy did we eat good! Chicken, seasoned with pesto sauce, grilled on a stick over a driftwood fire on the beach, with white rice and hot tea. Mmmmmm. We all slept well that night I think. In the morning we broke camp after a fairly leisurely breakfast of oatmeal with nuts and dried fruit. It was back into the forest for another full day, ending up at Camper's Bay where we dined on steak and potatoes. Yes, real beef steak, grilled to perfection on a hot flat rock in our camp fire, complete with rubbing spices and margarine to make sure the meat didn't stick to the rock. It was incredible, and with that meal was the end of our fresh meat. The rest of our menu entailed mostly pastas, soups, and other fairly instant meals.

It wasn't until roughly half way through the 77km that the trail started really following the beach. The terrain was constantly changing, from soft wet sand beaches, to flat tidal shelves covered in slippery sea weed, to narrow winding trails through bushes that bordered the edges of high steep cliffs along the rocky shore where waves crashed with powerful spray and sea lions watched on from distant island rocks. We got into a rhythm, took turns leading the pack, talked about the environmental, political, and social messes the world is in. Every so often we would stop so that Justin could boulder a cliff or Brad and Scott could check the tide tables to make sure we wouldn't be swept out to sea if we took the shore route instead of the forest trail. I myself was constantly taking pictures of course. With my camera strap hooked into the top straps of my backpack there wasn't any weight on my neck and I was always able to catch the unexpected photo ops with the camera ready against my chest.

I could write for hours about the adventures of each day on the trail, but I'll try to summarize. The highlights for me, were the hamburgers we bought from "Chez Monique's", a burger and beer stand set up right on the beach within a native reserve, showering under a fresh water waterfall, washing our sweaty clothes with biodegradable soap in a shallow rocky stream, watching grey whales break the water, watching bald eagles soar high over the tall trees, soaked in the mist of a thick fog, listening to Scottie playin his harmonica, sitting out on the rocky shore while we built a camp fire and started making dinner. Every moment was a highlight, there were no low-lights, oh, except for when on the last day and a half my knee became inflamed and extremely sore. Even the wet rainy nights were a blessing, we didn't get rained on once during the day! We met a native fisherman who fed us huge dungenous crabs on the shore of the Nit Nat Narrows. We saw the skeleton of a whale laid out on the grounds beside an old light house, an original fixture of the ancient life saving trail along this infamous "ship graveyard" coastline. Scott lost his thermarest, on the very last day after he no longer needed it, the one he found at a garage sale in Fort McMurray for $5.00!!

When we finally reached the trail head at the north end, we were all on the verge of collapse. We were met by Justin's friend Matt who drove us back to Victoria along some super sketchy logging roads through the island interior. Justin took the shuttle bus by himself back to Port Renfrew to fetch his fiesta. It was an incredible feeling of accomplishment, physically rewarding as well as emotionally and spiritually.

For almost another entire week after the hike, I continued to hang out with J-Man and his fun room mates in Vic City. We made meals together, built a table for Steph out of Sequoia and Cedar, I took various people for airplane rides, broke my toe surfing, and even squeezed in a tour of my uncle Deg's work where I saw a fully functioning ship deck simulator!

Eventually however, the time came to move on. I wanted to head north to Tofino, but due to the delays of my broken toe and due to some heavy fog and rain around Tofino, it wasn't possible. I flew back to Vancouver instead and stayed the night with Brad one last time before heading back into the BC interior!

Pictures!!

As promised, I've finally uploaded some photos onto my smugmug site. So far I only have up to the arrival in Vancouver, but more are soon to come once I have my new MacBook Pro laptop. That's right, I'm taking the plunge into the Mac world and I can't wait!

So here's the link to the first round of pictures of Scott and I flying from Ponoka to Vancouver, enjoy!

http://bensgallery.smugmug.com/gallery/1626396