The allure of the hills...

I've spent the last few days on hikes with members of the Varsity Outdoors Club (VOC) in the mountains inbetween Chilliwack and Hope. While I was hiking, especially today, I spent a good deal of time trying to rationalise and figure out just what it is, ontologically speaking, that draws me to these hills and these actions.

The first hike was up Elk and Thurston mountains just east of Chilliwack. When I was a kid, travelling on the Trans-Canada to Qualicum for the summer, these lush, forested mountains with their spectacular waterfalls signalled that I was truly in BC and soon I would be smelling ocean air (after a brief transfer through the cow-dung stink of Chilliwack - Thank God cows can't fly, my dad used to say). I got up early in the morning and drove out with three other VOC guys into the mist and rain we were kind of hoping wouldn't be there.

The hike began easily enough but soon became an upwards ridge climb through high stands of cedar, fir, and mountain hemlock enshrouded in morning mist and fog. It was relentlessly uphill without respite and I found myself falling behind the group (to my chagrin). I took some photos but the light was bad, so any of the photos you see on this post are thanks to the internet. After what seemed like quite a while, light could be seen emerging at the top of the darkened woods and we emerged into Elk mountain meadows. We were above the clouds and afforded beautiful views of the Chilliwack river snaking its course through the valley far bellow and snowy mountains across the valley (when the sun chose to break through the clouds).

We continued along the ridge and climbed another 4 kilometers or so until we finally came to a large cairn that marked the summit of Thurston. The meadows were filled with the early signs of flowers and were skirted with rocky cliffs. Occaisionally we crossed snowpack. It made for good photography. We ate more food before it began to rain hard and even hailed for a few minutes (which we took as a divine sign to head down). I had a much easier time on the downclimb and we made good time through the meadows (running at times) before finding our way back into the forest and back to the car at about 3:30 (we'd started at about 10). In total, 15 kilometers round trip and over 1000 meters vertical gain.

We got food in Chilliwack before plodding through the traffice back into Vancouver.

Saturday was a day of recuperation, walking around downtown with moderate muscle pains.

Today, I was picked up early in the morning and Sandra, Scott, and three other VOCers headed past Chilliwack to a forestry service road near Hope. The hike was to Eaton Lake and starting off wasn't too bad, I lead early on before dropping back. It was only 4 kilometers up, but it was straight up (about 900 meters vertical gain over 4 km). The forest was a lush combination of towering trees covered in Old Man's Beard moss with a mossy floor. Eaton river surged down the slope and we crossed it several times.

As I began to drop back from the crowd and experience serious muscle pain in my quads (not quite recovered from Elk Thurston) I gave serious though to just what it was that draws me to this activity while friends like Jason wouldn't touch it with a nine-foot pole and Cliff isn't interested in it. What was the primordial appeal? A good deal of it is sensual and aesthetic I think, the feeling when you breach the forest and make it to the alpine meadows is always nice. Walking across tenous bridges while surveying the mad rush and roil of the river below gives you a strong sense of your tenancy on this planet. The sheer force of the surroundings, sometimes only in the steepness grading of the path is more than enough to humble you.

We climbed up through fog and cloud and eventually made it to the lake. It was raining and the surrounding mountains were fogged in. A whiskey jack did eat bread out of my hand several times, a sort of communing with the vessels of nature that picked up my spirits.

When the rain picked up, we started down and again I had an easier time at it, even leading near the bottom. The ride home smelled of musty hikers (probably just me).

All and all a few good days of exercise and a sort of contentedness mixed with severe muscle pains that is hard to describe unless you've felt it for yourself. I suppose, to sum it up I'd need only quote the title of this page - it is a certain freedom in those hills.


Signing off...

Here's a link to the photos Jordan took of the Elk Thurston hike:
http://jordan.mpages.org/elk/