Like A Teapot

Last Saturday I visited Minnekhada Lake up in the mountains in northeast Greater Vancouver. It is in Minnekhada Regional park, which features a lake, a trail system and an old lodge. I walked part of the trail from the north gate that leads to the southern part of the lake that is called Southern Marsh. Entering the trail from the parking lot is entering the mountains. It was early evening when I arrived. Only four cars were present on the parking lot, including mine, which was surprising considering it was Saturday.

A "Bear Aware" sign was the first thing that greeted my eyes. I became instantly worried about the small bottle of coca cola in my backpack. Normally I don't buy or drink soda at all; I got a six-pack one evening when I was very thirsty and needed something cold to drink. And when I left home I had no idea where I was going to hike, it could be an open area or a secluded zone. My first thought was to leave the soda under the car seat but changed my mind almost immediately. I feared that a bear smelling it would break into the car. I had seen on TV how it is easily done. So I took it with me. I also thought of leaving it in the bushes near the entrance, but decided to carry it along in case I got thirsty.

 The first fifty meters of walk was pretty scary and I almost turned around. Suddenly the sun was gone, blocked by the surrounding mountains. I looked at the vegetation on each side of the trail and did not see any berries. So I was less concerned with bears than with perverts. But then again with no public transportation to the area I figured that chances of coming across a pervert are slim.

Before I needed to drink, I needed to pee. It was the tea I drank earlier. I thought I had gotten it out. But no sweat, in the last three months I had become a pro at answering nature's call in open air. It took me three solid practices to achieve that.

The first three times I was pretty nervous. Not only was I a newbie, but the topography presented much difficulty. I was in truly open air, on river banks with the only help of tall grass. The fourth time I was by a mountain trail next to a lake. There was better coverage and I found some goody by being close to the ground. This was in Buntzen Lake, a provincial park which I visited the previous Saturday (its album is up; a post will follow). It was there that I became a pro. This time, too, the topography helped. When I got up and started to walk again, lo and behold, I found a super cool stick by roadside, just the right size for defense. I was already wearing a powerful pealess whistle, the kind used by NATO. But in such an isolated area, it was almost useless. With the super stick in hand, my spirit soared; in no time I got out of the woods and was face to face with what I had come for: the lake.

I was pleased that I had pressed ahead earlier. The open space is filled with light, the remaining daylight. The lake itself is a bit disappointing. Nothing spectacular. Too small. However, it is truly a well managed wildlife habitat, with all sorts of animals living in the marshes, making wonderful sounds. You could hear movements and caught glimpses of large aquatic animals, such as beavers. The birds were also singing beautiful songs. I had never heard such pleasant orchestra of nature. It was totally different from the crazy frogs and geese combination notes on Pitt River and Fraser River. Such is the advantage of visiting the park in early evening, the couple I met half an hour later told me.

More photos here.