A week later, we arrived here. In Vancouver. Our new home.
We came for two reasons: (1) the mountains; and (2) the ocean.
The rest — work and life and relationships and friends — will work themselves out, I believe.
I've been longing to be here.
And now I am here.
And I am satiated with it all!
Beamer and I take a morning stroll by the ocean every morning.
I run on beach with snow-capped mountains as my back-drop.
We hike in the afternoons.
I've signed up for Kayak lessons, mountain-climbing tips, and road bike mechanics.
I am immersing myself in this life. The life that I have longed to live for so long.
Aside from the obvious cavernous hole created by the lack of my family and friends close by, everything is perfect.
I feel at home.
The moment I arrived, the mountains beckoned me. I MUST climb.
It seems, however, that I was slightly naive in both my ability and knowledge when it comes to hiking in BC.
Hiking is a pretty generic sport. You do it at your own pace. You explore. You have fun. You feel at one with nature. Out here, hiking is different than in Ontario. The most noticeable difference is, of course, the terrain. Everywhere you look it's up. Which means that the hikes are oftentimes equally as treacherous and strenuous as they are astoundingly beautiful. The other difference, that you don't often see (or hold on to hope that you will never see) are bears. There are lots of them here. Everyone carries around bear spray. Every one is, as my friend George told me, "bear aware".
I, unfortauntely, am not "bear aware" yet. But I am working on it. One sign on a trail in Cypress Provincial Park humbled me.
My favourite part is that it warns you to "not panic" (yah. right.)
But these little (but oh so important things) are what you learn when hiking in BC. It's not just a walk in the park. You've got to be prepared. I am quite rusty in this department.
GROUSE MOUNTAIN
I did hike a popular route up Grouse Mountain, the Grouse Grind, last week. I had done it before, but at a leisurely pace with a less-enthusiastically- inclined friend last year. So I remembered that it was tough ("Nature's Stairmaster" they call with good reason), but I thought: "I'm fit. I've climbed the CN Tower stairs in Toronto three times. I can do this."
Needless to say, this was all false bravado. I soon realized, not even a quarter way into the hike, that this trek would be a physical challenge.
About an hour later, sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, I stumbled up onto the snowbank on top of grouse. The air was cool. The sky was blue. And the view was fantastic!
As I munched on a granola bar and my beads of sweat turned to ice, I looked out over Vancouver. The view from the top of Grouse is pretty spectacular. You can see the whole city, and beyond. If you're a first-time visitor to Vancouver, it's a must-see attraction. Good news for non-hikers: You can take a tram up to the top!
MOUNT STRACHAN
Eager to do as many hikes as possible and seduced by the mountains, I've taken every chance on every beautiful day to hike. My first week here, I was overly ambitious and decided that B and I should hike to the summit of Mount Strachan. My hiking book said it was a strenuous but beautiful climb and that the view from the top was idyllic. Although my book said that the best times to embark on this hike were between July and September, I decided that, at 25ºC, this day was as good as any.
Of course, as a naive Ontarian, I soon came to realize that I had much to learn. As we ascended the long and windy road to the trail head up the mountain, the air turned crisp, the wind picked up, and by the time we reached the top, we parked the car in a parking lot still covered in snow. I stepped out of the car into the frigid mountain air in hiking capris and shoes, next to an alpine extremist who was preparing to hike the trail with his snow shoes. Another couple emerged on skis.
I hung my head in shame. Drove half way down the mountain. And B and I hiked around the base where it was still warm.
Much to learn, indeed.
THE CHIEF
A much talked about and applauded hike is The Chief, a HUGE rockface just south of Squamish, BC. On a chilly but sunny May morning, my friend Sam and I, accompanied by my faithful four-legged companion B, decided to give this hike a whirl.
It was a disasterously failed summit attempt for several reasons.
1. It started at the trailhead. The trailhead is marked by 12-foot high (or so) sheer rock face. It is definitely scalable. There are grooves for footing. But it was not dog-friendly. As I urged Beamer upward, she shook mightly and urged me down. I decided that I would hoist her up to a boy already on top of the rock face, he would hold her leash until i got up, and we would begin our summit attempt.
This was all good in theory.
Although I did manage, with some amoutnt of comedy, to hoist Beamer to the top of the rockface, she panicked on top, lost her footing, and as I was mid-climb the poor, scared pup fell down the rock face, scraping her knuckles and legs and knees on the way. She velcroed herself up next to some other hikers and hung her head. When I got down, she was bleeding. And she glared at me with ferocity.
I knew what she was thinking: First, seven days in the car. Now, you throw me UP a rock face!
This is a picture of one of her injuries!
Of course, never one to be knocked down and stay down, I give the pooch a "pet" talk and launch her up the rock, bloody legs and all for the second time. This time she sticks on solid ground and quickly trades in sending evil darts at me through her eyes for sniffing the scents on the trail ahead.
Thinking that we had overcome our first major obstacle, I burst forth with wild abandon. "I'm going to summit The Chief!" I thought. In my mind, I gave a little "woohoo!"
2. As Beamer and I leapt up the ensuing 73 metres of stairs ahead of us (after which the trail continues on steeply, but with more moderation), I had a sinking feeling I was forgetting something. I was... Sam. Eager to summit the Chief as well, Sam was 12 steps in and huffing heavily. She was not prepared for the physical challenge ahead. I cheered her on from above. YOU CAN DO IT! She was unimpressed. She glared at me. About half way up the stairs she declared heartily: "That's it! I am against UP! I am anti-UP!" and took a diverted path off the trail that led to Shannon Falls. Not the summit, but still a beautiful bit of this park.
Realizing that I would have to come back some other time and do the hike to the three summits solo, I embraces this new "anti up" hike. Beamer trotted along excitedly. Sam kept a moderate pace. The direction was, for teh most part, down and everyone was happy.
We came to Shannon Falls, an explosive and beautiful waterfall on the mountain side. It was cool and misty. Not unlike Niagara Falls. We sat and ate granola bars. We drank water, It was nice.
Of course, our adventures would not end here. Hoping that our trip back to the car would not include retracing our steps, Sam set forth to find a road that we could walk on back. (boring). there was no such thing. "We have to go back up where we came from, Sam" I said. She looked at me in disgust. "It was only an hour. And it's not steep like the stairs." I weighed in. She scoffed. And we trudged forth.
When we go back to the point where we had left the incline of stairs an hour or so before, Sam was pooped. But doing well. I was proud of her. Of course, we still had to go down the 50 meters of stairs we had climbed earlier. Now these "stairs" are rickety, crooked, some made of stone, some made of logs. They are not trustworthy, so going down is mentally exhausting. Footing is key.
Sam barrelled from the top: "I think I am anti-down too!"
I smiled, pretended i didn't hear, and told her that I would meet her at the bottom.
At the top of the rock face that started it all (remember Beamer's fall from grace?), Sam held onto B while I climbed mid-way down the final rock face. I pulled my angry, scared, and jilted dog toward me. She cowered. I pulled harder. Eventually, I had her like a joey in a pouch all curled up in front of me, her claws digging into my shoulders for dear life. I directed her toward a ledge and she leapt downward with confidence, scraping her butt along the way and incurring yet another scrape.
So I didn't summit the Chief. And Beamer and Sam walked heads hung, lungs heaving, and legs weary behind me back to the car vowing together, I think, to never hike with me again.
Shucks.
