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!!