So we headed to the North Shore and a trail we've never done before called the Brothers Creek Loop.
7 kms of forested beauty.
We had to drive up through the British Properties (where all the richest of the rich live) in West Vancouver, and parked our little beat-up Hyundai with the cracked windshield and bird-poop-stained doors on the curb alongside a multi-million dollar home. I'm sure they appreciated that!
Harley led the way onto the trail which started as a steep gravel ascent. We huffed and puffed our way through it ... it's been a year since I last hiked steeply, so it was a test of endurance and of bravery. I'm in a constant state of fear of re-injuring my back so I was slow and cautious.
The trails edges were thick with dense forest. Lots of old firs. Lots of green foliage.Beautiful "nurse" trees rich with history. And, when we stopped for a break at the crest of the first hill and just listened, all we hear were a few birds singing, a couple of chipmunks chattering, and the sweet sound of nothing else but the wind in the trees.
As we trudged forth, Harley was in a constant state of seeking water. We had plenty with us and offered it to her often (it's hard being big and brown on a hot, sunny day). But she didn't want our water in a bowl. She was roughing it. And was adamant that every lap of water would be from a creek, a puddle, an almost-dry riverbed, a swampy hollow, etc.
She would run ahead, locate water, lap it up, and sit in it for a minute – max – then carry forth when we caught up.
3.7 kms in, we reached Brother's Creek, a cool, crisp low-rise stream rolling underneath a tattered wooden bridge. It was something out of the Brother's Grimm. We half expected a troll to greet us as we descended below the bridge and onto the rocks for a creekside lunch.
The way back to the car was dotted with obscure signs and moments of panic that maybe, just maybe, we were lost.
Good news: we were never lost. Bad news: we didn't know that until we got to the car.
Memories of our first hike together 4 years ago on Mount Hollyburn where we spent double the time trying to find our way out and fearing for our lives played over and over.
"Remember on Hollyburn where we got lost?" M asked.
I chuckled.
So did he, uneasily.
It was funny after the fact. But as the Brother's Creek trail got slimmer and slimmer and the orange trail markers on the trees became fewer and farther between, we both secretly had lumps in our throats. Were we going the right direction?
Luckily, we were and we made it back to the car and the land of teh living 3 hours later with sweat on our brows and love in our hearts.
