Murtle Lake

Where do I even start with Murtle Lake? I have been vacationing here since I was too young to remember... so many times I have lost count. A lot of my memories come from Murtle Lake.

If you are looking for some peace and quiet, in a place that is remote, (but not TOO remote,) and you love clear water and sandy beaches, then this is a great place to go.

This year, it was just the husband and I, although I have been here with various assortments of people over the years. This is husband's favourite destination of all the places I have taken him so far.

I have a very bad habit of picking "punishing" summer trips, (that leave me far more exhausted AFTER my vacation than before I took it,) but Murtle is probably the most relaxing one that still lets me enjoy the back-country and get away from the "car-campers." (No offense, car-campers! But I immensely dislike loud obnoxious people and alcohol, and summer time provincial park sites are usually filled with both. Not to mention, who can afford that anymore??)

Murtle Lake is the largest canoe/kayak only lake in all of North America. It is deep in Wells Gray Provincial Park, down a winding 37km dirt road east of Blue River that will probably leave you white-knuckling the dashboard and yelling at whoever is driving to SLOW DOWN! If it's your first time here, be sure to stop at the information center in Clearwater. They have TONS of info, and can direct you to other great things to see. (There are some amazing waterfalls nearby that are worth a quick detour.) Once you reach the parking lot, there is a 2.5 km portage to the lake.

We came here nearly every summer when we were kids, unless we were canoeing Bowron Lakes instead. (Don't worry, there will be a post on that later!) Back then, the road was even more terrifying. The portage trail involved climbing over rocky outcroppings, so canoes had to be carried on shoulders rather than rolled down the trail on wheeled dolly's. You may notice several wooden structures on the trail that look like giant croquet hoops, that are strategically placed after long hill sections; these are resting stations for those poor souls still carrying canoes on their backs!

In the past, payment was done at the little teal ice cream parlour in Blue River, (which is abandoned now,) but it is now self-registration at the end of the portage. Don't try to skip out on paying.... the rangers make their rounds every day and will catch you!

When you set your paddle to the water, you're not actually in Murtle Lake yet; you're in Murtle Lagoon. A short km or so will lead you through a small marshy passageway, (watch for moose!) and will then reveal a magnificent sprawling beach with campsites on both sides. We almost always end up here on the first night.

Our first night this year was definitely the most exciting of the trip. Shortly after dinner, we began our nightly routine of brushing teeth, caching our food, and purifying water for the next day. Then we sat on the beach to read. At the opposite end of the lake, a storm was brewing. We watched as it slowly headed our direction. The thunder got louder and the lightning got closer. Husband and I pulled the canoe up high, flipped it upside down, and tied it to a tree. (I always do this. Many people give me funny looks.)

About 15 minutes later, it began to rain, so we took shelter in the tent, making sure everything was tucked neatly under the vestibule. We sat and chatted for a while, waiting for the rain to pass. Instead, it turned into a torrential hail, and then the wind hit. POWERFUL wind that shook the tent so badly we had to brace the corners down with our bodies. It ripped our pitiful tent pegs right out of the sand and left the fly fluttering uselessly. The hail and convulsing tent were so loud we had to yell to hear each other, despite the fact that we were only two feet apart. Thunder boomed, and lightning struck trees not too far from us. It was terrifying, but in an exhilarating, "it's good to be alive" kind of way.

Suddenly, we heard a very strange clanging sound, and instinct told us it had to be LOUD for us to even hear it over the sound of the wind and hail. We unzipped the tent and peeked outside just in time to see that our neighbors red rental canoe had caught the wind, and was now flipping end over end down the beach!

(Beware of storms that can sweep up on you unexpectedly. Always secure your canoe at camp, and gear and tents too! Many boats and tents have been lost to the lake......)




From this point, you can decide if you want to explore the West Arm or the North Arm. Visitors to the West Arm outnumber visitors to the North Arm at least 3-1. It is shorter, the water is warmer, the beaches are sandier, there are three islands to visit, a lagoon with a shelter, and a lovely hike to McDougall Falls.

The North Arm is very long, has colder water, bigger, rockier mountains, rockier beaches, and is famous for wind storms that can leave you stranded. Few people visit this arm, although it is breathtakingly beautiful. It is also my experience that if you are going to see a bear, it will probably happen on the North Arm!

The husband and I took the West Arm route when we were here a couple years ago. We took kayaks, and had amazing weather. We did notice that the pine beetle has ravaged much of this section though.....

This year, we headed North! I had forgotten how amazing this side of the lake is. It was also great to have the whole thing pretty much to ourselves.

I had some bad memories of the north arm from when I was young, and was therefore hesitant to go down it. The north arm is where our camp stove exploded, where we saw many bears, (and I'd like to note, just a few days before husband and I headed down here, a camper had managed to get video footage of a moose fighting a bear!) and also where I remember being stranded for days by the wind. I remember dad putting the canoe up between two trees, supplemented by a horizontal tarp that we sat behind for hours because we were so small the wind would knock us down if we tried to stand. I told the ranger about this, and he laughed, blamed me for how few people go north, and nicknamed me "Karma Girl."

Thankfully, no bears this trip, although many of the sites had "bear in area" signs posted. If you do explore the arm, I would recommend camping in site 15 or 18, and not the end itself. The very end of the lake has little protection from wind, HORRIBLE bugs, is probably the worst camp for swimming on the entire lake, and the beach is coated with sticks and debris that gets pushed all the way down the lake by wind. (And did I mention the bears?)

Try to do you paddling in the morning, because the wind tends to really pick up in the afternoons.

We spent our last night, as usual, on Sandy Point. It is well named, because the sand is pure white and the water crystal clear. On a hot summer's day, you'd swear you were in Mexico. This site is one of the most popular on the lake, but we were lucky this year to have it nearly all to ourselves. We swam, we read, we played in the sand, we ate great food. It was a perfect day!

Weather-wise, we could not have timed this trip more perfectly. We spoke to one family who was nearing the end of a TWO WEEK vacation on the lake. They told us that for nearly that entire duration, forest fire smoke had hung low over the lake, making breathing difficult, the temperature cold, and seeing the other side of the lake impossible. It had also rained nearly every day. However, that wind storm the first night we arrived had blown all the smoke out of the valley and left us with 5 days of clear sunny skies. It started to rain about 30 minutes after we had exited the lake, finished the portage, and loaded everything back into the car. The forecast said it would continue raining non-stop for the rest of the week. Haha! I figured that made up for the 7 days of straight rain I had to endure on my hiking trip the summer before.

But as always, nature has a mind of it's own. You don't head out there without preparing to get a little wet. (And if you don't? Bonus!) You also can't let weather ruin your trip. The key to this is always being prepared for the worst possible situation, and of course, respecting the power of nature!

An Adventurer is Born.

I personally think that to have a genuine, innate relationship with the outdoors, you have to be born with it. Sure, I have seen many people learn and grow to enjoy doing outdoor activities, (like my husband,) but to be absolutely head-over-heels in love with nature is something you either have, or you don't.
It can't be taught.

I was lucky enough to be born into an adventure-loving family. At 10 months old I was the youngest person recorded to complete the Bowron Lake Canoe Circuit. I took my first steps at Black Tusk on Mt Garibaldi, lost my first tooth at Murtle Lake in Wells Grey Park, and celebrated my 8th birthday at Dawson City, on the shores of the Yukon river following a month long wilderness canoe trip.

It was a long time before I realized that our family was different. That the definition of "camping" meant something very different to me than it did to everyone else. That not every kid spent the entire summer break (and every weekend in between,) somewhere out in the wilderness.

When most kids were getting Nintendo games for Christmas, we were getting Coleman lanterns, waterproof stuffsacks, and collapsible light-weight cook sets.


I grew up thinking powdered milk was a treat, and that shaking it in a nalgene water bottle was the "normal" way to make pudding. I thought that everybody's dad knew how to rock climb, and everybody's mom could rig a 10 foot sail on the bow of a canoe while it was still moving.

I got used to carrying an air-horn or bear spray on my waist at all times, going to the bathroom in the bush, stringing food in trees, and checking in with parents regarding daily water consumption and bowel movements.

I have seen countless bears, moose, beavers, and even a couple of cougars. I have paddled my way through absolutely terrifying storms, (one of which broke my mom's nose when said sail collapsed on her face,) seen lighting strike and burst trees near us into flames, and even the elusive "triple rainbow."

I have seen stars like most people will never see them.
I have seen the Northern Lights.
I have flown a kite on a mountain top.

I can light a camp stove. (But not my BBQ at home.)
I have seen a mother grizzly and her cubs at less than 100 feet away.
I have slept on the slopes of an active volcano.

I have hiked for 7 days in pouring rain.
I have given food and supplies to strangers.
I have had hypothermia.

I have run rapids.
I have climbed mountains.
I have slept in snow-caves.



I can roll a kayak.
I have gold-panned in the Yukon and Alaska.
I have gone swimming in alpine lakes.
I have hauled my canoe over beaver dams.
I quite enjoy dehydrated food!

I have feared for my life, saved someone's life, and thanked God for being alive.

Do you love being outdoors, or do you love the outdoors itself? Does it give you a peace and sense of belonging like no human ever could?

It's a hard feeling to explain. Most people can't comprehend that I feel most at home with no makeup, no deodorant, no flush toilets, no showers, and no refrigerator. But there's a lot of other things I don't have out there too; stress, expectations, deadlines, disappointment, judgement, complacency, or lack of self-worth.

There is such a feeling of accomplishment when reach your destination by means of self-propelled power, while carrying your entire means of survival on your back. (Or in your boat.) This primitiveness is lost on most people, but I thrive on it. Crave it, even.

I call myself a second-generation outdoor freak. Why? Because I'm not out there hang-gliding, rapelling down glaciers, attempting to hike to Mexico, or pulling crazy stunts like my parents did. But it's definitely in my blood. And I'm very fortunate to have such excellent trainers, with such amazing stories and gear I can borrow from. (It's too bad blogging didn't exist 30 years ago. I would so love to read what my parents were thinking during those early adventures.)

But perhaps my feeling for the wilderness is best summed up by one of my favourite verses:

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more..."

(Lord Byron, 1814)

If you'll excuse me, I have to go outside now.

~ Adventure Girl

Wedgemount

Let me start by saying that this hike was a lot harder than I was expecting it to be. This is NOT a beginner hike. It is one of the most difficult trails around, (with an elevation gain of 1160 meters in only 7km, for a 14km round trip,) and requires crawling over roots and boulders at very steep inclines.

If you don't have a 4 wheel drive vehicle, don't try to make it to the parking lot. There is one steep section on the dirt road covered in deep potholes which will destroy a small car. It should be fairly obvious when you reach this section, as there will likely be a line of cars parked on the sides of the road.

About 30 minutes in to the hike, you come across a beautiful set of bridges across Wedge Creek. We stopped here for lunch, and it's probably a good thing we did, because from this point on the mosquitoes and black flies became almost unbearable. (Bug spray was no help at all!)

If you are low on water, be sure to fill up here. The creek does run parallel to the trail for basically the entire hike, but you won't see it again or have any access to water until you reach the lake.

The trail's steep incline is unrelenting. After a couple hours, we asked passing hikers how much further it was to the top and were told we weren't even a third of the way there. Ugh.

Just when it seems like there can't possibly be any more mountain left to climb, you will reach a large landslide which marks approximately the half-way point. I wish I could say the trail flattens out here as you approach the lake, but unfortunately the worst is yet to come!





Not far from this point, Wedge falls comes in to view. It's too bad the trail does not offer a better viewpoint or get any closer to it, as the 300m waterfall is quite spectacular. You also get a heartwrenching smack of reality as you realize that the lake you are trying to reach is both higher and farther away than the falls you are craning you neck to look up at.

Follow the trail through some more incredibly steep inclines, and eventually you will reach daylight again. Here, the trees become smaller and the terrain has a more "alpine" look. You also get a good view of the torturous last leg of your climb; scrambling over rocks up an old avalanche chute.

If you need to put sunscreen on, do it now, as from this point on the there are no more trees on the route to offer you shade.

There is good news though.... once you pass over this massive hurdle, you finally get to see the reason you are here, and it is nothing short of breathtaking.

Welcome to Wedgemount Lake!



If you are over-nighting, there are a bunch of campsites up high near the BC Mountaineering Club's cabin, as well as a bunch right down on the lake shore. I would definitely recommend camping close to the water to fully take in the beauty of where you are.






Make sure to bring lots of warm clothes. Even on the hottest summer days, it gets extremely cold on the mountain at night.

There is a year-round outhouse up high by the cabin sites, and a temporary one by the water that is flown in just for the summer season.
There is no bear cache, and no garbage. Remember the golden rule of hiking and pack out what you pack in. "Take only pictures; leave only footprints."

From the campsite, it's only a short 15 or 20 minute walk up to the glacier. It is definitely worth this extra effort, even if your feet and muscles disagree.

The compacted ice is extremely slippery, so be careful not to slip. Also be careful of crevasses and cornices which could break off under your feet. Never enter a cave below unstable ice!




Watch for marmots back at the campsite. They will try to steal your food when you are not looking! Since there are no bear caches provided or trees to hang food from, many hikers create mini-caches by hanging their food bags from hiking poles. Even getting it two feet off the ground will keep your food safe from little critters during the night.

The hike down is almost as grueling as the hike in. Make sure you bring plenty of water and watch your step. You are far more likely to blow an ankle while descending at fast speeds than you are while going steadily uphill.


In total, it took us about 10 hours to complete this hike, not including the excursion to the glacier. Going up was nearly 6 hours, and coming down was about 4. (It probably didn't help that the temperatures were so high the day we went.... I found a news article after I got home that announced record-setting temperatures for the area; hitting a high of 36.7 degrees at the exact time we were trudging 1160m up a mountain with overnight packs on. The amount of sweat was unbelievable!)



We are not fast hikers, so I'm sure someone in better shape could do it in a much shorter amount of time, but you should make sure you give yourself enough time to complete this hike before dark.

This lake has a very short hiking season of July, August, and early September. Any other time of year, you are likely to encounter snow and very cold temperatures.

Take lots of food, lots of water, and lots of pictures! Enjoy your adventure!!


~ Adventure Girl

So where do I start?

I get asked this question all the time, from people who want to go on "adventures" but have no clue where to start.

If you are lucky enough to live in BC, you probably don't have to go far. You don't need any special training to enjoy the outdoors. Get a good pair of shoes or hiking boots, and start small!

I own a couple of books entitled such things as "The Best Hikes and Walks in Southwest British Columbia," etc. They're really great resources. Some of the hikes I had already come to know and love, but many were (and still are) brand new to me. Books are great because you can flip through and find ones that look interesting according to length, difficulty, region, etc.

And of course, there is also the internet. There are many trail blogs out there where people will share their experiences on certain hikes. (Two of my favourites are trailpeak.com or clubtread.com.) That's the great thing about the hiking community; they're generally really helpful people.

If your goal is to be completely self-sufficient for multiple day trips, it's probably not going to happen right away. Borrow what you can, and make wish lists of what you still need. (A lot of stuff can be bought second-hand.) Nobody wants to be that camper who has price tags still attached to their all brand-new equipment.

In the meantime, go outside and test your limits. See a hill? Climb it! Ask around to find some good local hikes. It all starts with making a conscious decision to get out there and do it. The memories you will make, and the benefits to your health will make even less-than perfect trips well worth the effort.

Happy Adventuring!!