Amazing morning views

After we all thaw out for the morning, the activities for the day start to take shape – everyone is extremely excited to go for a hike to find Chiwilas – an extremely sweet fruit that will take some getting, I’m told.
We’ve only been going for 20 minutes when a hilarious game of horse and bull breaks out, based around an old bull horn found on the ground. Kids ride on the shoulders of an adult and someone gives chase pretending to be a bull holding the horn on their head. An hour and a half later the game continues, even after we’ve hiked many kilometers over difficult terrain, everyone still smiling and laughing whenever the “bull” spontaneously decides to give chase.

The whole camping crew

Over the mountains and far, far away we arrive at our destination – a scrubby outcrop of brush and trees, rare at this elevation. Everyone dives right in, attacking cacti left right and centre. It turns out the highly sought after Chiwilas are the tiny fruit of the cactus which grow right down in the middle, past all the spiny leaves. With only my bare hands and a small stick, I quickly wind up with fingers full of spines and no desire at all to get more Chiwilas, which I’m not all that impressed with anyway (they’re extremely small and contain barely a drop of sweet nectar after biting through the pulp-like crust). I nap under a tree and can’t believe my eyes two hours later when everyone is still energetically going at it, lugging around sacks full of the tiny fruit. Even after my little nap I’m exhausted on the walk back, though none of the locals show any sign of fatigue, happily eating left-over potatoes retrieved from coat pockets and drinking out of every muddy ditch we come across.
Lunch, as you might guess, is rice and potatoes, now that we’re run out of trout.

Cotopaxi from an angle I've never seen before

I’m struck time and time again by how happy and playful these Ecuadorians are. Not just the kids either, even the adults get right in on the fun. Even after cramming into a car for a long, bumpy ride, eating the same plain food for every meal, sleeping in freezing conditions, traipsing for hours through mud and drinking out of muddy streams, every single person is still beaming, extremely happy to be surrounded by family doing exactly as they please.

Always happy

The guys illustrate this perfectly by donning moss for their best Gandalf impersonations – much to the delight of everyone.

The "Mountain Men" having fun

I know for sure now I’m ready to get back out in the wilderness for some serious camping & hiking.

-Dan

• I’m currently training to run a 10km fun run through the streets of Old Town Quito at night, and am loving the fitness attained at 3500 meters above sea level.

• Before I move on I’ll make an attempt on the summit of Volcán Cotopaxi, 5897 meters up. This will be by far the biggest mountain I have attempted.

Distant Cotopaxi

• I’ll start moving South again in early September, spending roughly a month in each of Peru, Boliva, Northern Chile and Northern Argentnia on my way to…

• Christmas with my family! in Buenos Aires! Uh-Huh!.

• The plan after that is very hazy, but probably involves going South along the East coast to Tierra Del Fuego, then North along the West for some solid time in and around Patagonia and Southern Chile in general.

• After that, there are a few dreams forming that keep me thinking, but nothing concrete right now.

Love that view

-Dan

The stunning views in Parque Nacional Cajas

In the morning we’re off to Parque Nacional Cajas, an amazing spot on the side of the highway high in the mountains between Cuenca and Guayaquil. We hike for a couple of hours into the amazing wilderness, well above tree line, passing only a few locals moving supplies around on horseback. When the rain sets in we move down to the refuge to cook lunch and chat to the park ranger guys before hiking around Laguna Toreadora, which again is peaceful in a way I can’t adequately explain.

Laguna Toreadora in Parque Nacional Cajas

More views in Parque Nacional Cajas

I wave goodbye to Jena and settle into the refuge for the night as the temperature drops lower and lower. I’m wearing all my thermals and am barely warm enough to sleep – It must be quite a way below freezing. I drive up and over another mountain pass towards Guayaquil and find myself in a tiny little village in the middle of dense jungle. Now that I’m down from the mountains the temperate has gone up about 20 degrees and the humidity is through the roof. The vegetation is extremely green and dense and banana plantations stretch into the distance as far as I can see.
Ecuador continues to amaze me with it’s diversity.

There is an amazing amount of nothingness

I find the nearby hot spring, another overly concrete affair perched on the side of a beautiful little river in a lush green valley and the owner lets me camp under a roof for only the price of admission ($2). While soaking I meet some locals, Engel and his wife and young daughter. He’s a really cool guy and before the night is done he invites me to hang out with him in his little town tomorrow. Cool.

Engel's farm in the jungle

In the morning we meet up and quickly head out to his farm in the Jeep, because the roads require 4×4 and his little VW will not make it all the way. On the road Engel tells me about his time in the US about 15 years ago; he caught a ship to Guatemala, hitchhiked to Mexico City and paid $12,000 USD for fake papers to get him across the border. Once in Los Angeles, he moved all over the country and finally settled around New York City. For the next seven years he lived and worked illegally in pretty much every borough around the city, to save money to bring back to his family in Ecuador. After the seven years he flew back to Ecuador (“nobody checks your papers when you are leaving”) with enough money to buy a really nice house, farm, car and still have enough left over so he doesn’t have to work too hard now. Hearing him talk about his time there is really amazing and when I ask if he wants to go back or live full time in the US he says “No, people in the US work to hard and are only interested in money and things, not family.”
His words, not mine.

Engel, proud of his machete

Cocca cut open and growing

The farm is possibly the most green, dense jungle I have ever seen and he proudly shows huge amounts cocca growing in the lower lands and young trees up higher that will be exported for timber. In five years one tree will sell for $30, which is a lot of money here. For the rest of the day we hang out in his town, meeting friends and family who are all extremely friendly and welcoming and want to hear all about my travels and life in other countries. The next day we drive into the enormous city of Guayaquil with another friend to buy parts for the bus Engel works on as a ticket collector. The city has a reputation of being very, very dangerous and they tell me time and time again I would not be safe on my own. In fact, I get the distinct feeling neither of them would feel comfortable in the city alone. It’s interesting to watch them roll up the car windows and lock the doors as soon as we get near the city – clearly they are aware of what happens here. It’s a huge city, complete with pollution, traffic and massive billboards plastered with western brands and slogans.
We drive all over town twice, and eventually end up with what we need late in the day.

The Hot Spring complex where I camped

Hanging out with Engel is a really great time and only serves to increase my liking for Ecuador.

-Dan

Parque National Llanganates

I pay $5 for entry and am told I can go anywhere I like, for as long as I like, hiking and camping my little heart out. Sweet. Upon arrival at Laguna Pisayambo I find it fenced and guarded, apparently because it’s an important hydro-electric generating station. My Spanish is clearly getting better as I not only convince the guard to let me in without a permit, I soon find myself hanging out in the guard shack chatting away. The two guards are posted here for five days at a time and obviously enjoy the distraction I provide. Over the next two days we go hiking and fishing, cook together, watch movies and talk for hours about all kinds of varied topics.

My campsite at Laguna Pisayambo

My arrival in Baños is on a beautiful sunny Sunday, the first time I can remember seeing sun worthy of shorts and flip-flops in more than two weeks. The town itself is absolutely packed with Ecuadorian tourists and I have a blast walking around checking out all the stalls and people watching for a few hours. After getting the scoop from the tourist information center I head up into the mountains directly behind town to find Casa Del Arból, a beautiful grassy area with a stunning view where I setup camp for a few days. Tons of Ecuadorians visit throughout the afternoon and I have a great time chatting to some university students, they speak English and I Spanish.

My campsite at Casa Del Arból

I head off the next morning for the the scenic drive down to Puyo, on the edge of the Amazon jungle. The road winds along a huge gorge carved by the Rio Pastaza in spectacular fashion – there is an enormous waterfall every few hundred meters dropping to the river far below. In about five places huge tunnels, up to 900 meters long, have been carved into the rock for the highway to pass through. Trying to get the best views of the river and waterfalls I take the much narrower track perched literally on the edge of the gorge. At one point I drive directly through a sizable waterfall which drops directly onto this track. The town of Puyo brings back memories of coastal Colombia and Panama – extremely hot, busy, and in various states of decay.

Jeep getting in on the waterfall action

Infront of some pretty mighty falls

I have half a mind to hike a good way up the now very active Volcán Tungurahua, which caused the evacuation of 20,000 residents in 1999 and has been on Yellow Alert ever since. After going only a short distance I am quickly deterred when I discover there really is no trail up my side and the thick clouds prevent any kind of views. Instead I hike down into Baños from my high camping perch and am rewarded with beautiful views of the town completely surrounded by huge mountains.

The town of Baños

I crawl out of my tent at sunrise each morning and am not disappointed by the spectacular views of the nearby volcano. On a couple of days fresh snow is clearly visible and I get my fill before the clouds soon close in. Cooking breakfast each morning with stunning views in all directions I wake up to the realization of exactly where I am; throughly in the Andes, camping, hiking and checking out every square inch and peaks my interest.
This is what I dreamed about for all those months

My campsite at Casa Del Arból with snow-capped Mt. Tungurahua

Baños is famous for hot springs and I of course make a visit early one morning. It’s a concrete pool affair for $2, complete with three pools; very hot, perfect soaking temperature and freezing cold.

On top of the world at Casa Del Arból

If you hadn’t already guessed, I really like it here.

-Dan

My 'friends' who joined me for lunch at Papagayo

I set out on the famous Quilotoa Loop not entirely sure what to expect and am immediately in awe of the scenery and little villages I constantly pass though. This tiny road winds it’s way through communities high in the the Andean mountains which I imagine have been much the same for hundreds of years. The highlight is by far Laguna Qilotoa, formed in the crater of an enormous inactive volcano at 3,800 meters elevation. A local guy lets me camp on his property about 5 meters from the edge of the rim, one of my better campsites for sure. Hiking around the rim the next morning takes about four and a half hours with some seriously impressive views along the way.

The endless green hills of the Quilotoa Loop

The full Laguna Quilotoa

I drive further and further along the deteriorating track, to the little town of Chugchilán. There are a couple of tiny stores, two hosterias and some street vendors selling suspicious looking meat on the one and only street in town. I check-in to one of the hosterias, with a private room, hot shower, dinner and breakfast all for $10 and set out to explore. After walking the length of town twice in five minutes, I venture up into the surrounding hills with no exact destination in mind. As I’ve come to expect the thick clouds roll in around lunchtime and there is a steady stream of rain for the remainder of the day. Although there is nothing to do per se, I come to like this little town and the friendly people going about their lives.

Iliniza Sur and Norte snuck out for just a minute

The trail around the entire rim

I finish the loop the next day by wandering around Saquisili, reported to have the ‘most authentic’ market in Ecuador. Indigenous people hike into town from miles around often using Llamas to pack their produce and hand made goods in and out. It’s not at all geared for tourists and is the lifeblood of the many communities in the area.
At least, this is what I’ve read.
The market is a Thursday-only affair and I’ve arrived on a Saturday. Maybe I’ll come back.

Just hanging out on the side of Laguna Quilotoa

On the rim of Laguna Quilotoa at my campsite

I still don’t know what that suspicious looking meat was, but it tasted pretty good

-Dan

The source of the hot spring at Tufiño

We move south, winding our way through numerous green valleys dotted with lush farmland. I catch a glimpse of an enormous snow-capped mountain in the distance and am jumping about with excitement and eagerness. Over the next few days we camp on the shores of Yahuarcocha Lake after driving around the racetrack that circles it, then on a lookout high above Laguna San Pablo, a beautiful spot that Vince is very proud to find.

Lush green hills of Ecuador

Another impressive Ecuadorian mountain

We make a stop at Parque Nacional El Condor and wander around the impressive collection of eagles, owls, hawks, condors and other birds of prey. The mountainous backdrop when the keeper lets a couple of birds fly around is jaw-dropping and the sight of a condor fully extending it’s wings is hard to digest.

Watching this guy eat dead mice was impressive

Laguna Yahuarcocha, complete with racetrack

The city of Otavaldo hosts Ecuador’s biggest local market and we’re up early on Saturday morning to squeeze as much out of it as possible. We first make our way to the animal market on the edge of town, an amazing mix of people and every animal you can think of crammed into a tight space, with people and animals alike trying to make as much noise as possible. Deals are happening left and right with everything from chickens and guinea pigs to goats and donkeys being traded faster than I can keep up. I thoroughly enjoy sitting at a small local stall for breakfast where we strike up a conversation with some Colombians who have come to checkout the prices.

The Land Rover of Vince and Marie into the mountains

We next wander down into the center of town to market central where almost every woman is wearing an extremely colorful traditional dress. Photos of people in Ecuador are a touchy subject, so my camera stays in my bag for the day. The market is so huge the stalls are overflowing out in all directions from the central square with half the streets in the city closed to traffic. There are clothes, trinkets, hats, blankets and more in all sorts of beautiful shapes, sizes and colors to admire. As is usual with these markets bargaining is the order of the day and before long the items on each table all start to blend together and look more or less identical. I’m happy to see that almost every item I look at clearly says “Made in Ecuador”, even if they are obviously made in bulk on machinery. The streets are packed and there is real excitement in the air. It’s obvious many people from outlying communities make the journey into town just for the market and they are having as much fun as I am, laughing and smiling in the warm sun.

After the excitement of the market we’re looking to get away a little and drive up to Lagunas de Mojanda, a huge lake sitting at 3,700 meters. The heavy Land Rover can’t climb a steep, muddy hill so I continue to explore the area on my own while Vince and Marie retreat to our camp site for the night, on the shore of a smaller lake in a beautiful valley.

At 4000 meters above Laguna de Mojanda

No idea how that mud got there

In the morning I push hard and hike to the summit of Fuya Fuya at 4,250 meters in only an hour and a half – a decision I strongly regret only an hour later. Back at the Jeep at around 3,700 I feel fine, but by the time I drive down into town I have a headache more intense than any I’ve experienced in my life. I seriously think about being sick and both Vince and Marie can’t believe how pale I am.
Aspirin is supposed to help by increasing circulation, so I drink a couple down and catch a short nap in front seat of the Jeep, making me feel about a thousand times better.
A few hours later I’ve almost forgotten all about it.
I’ll have to be careful next time I hike at high altitude.

At the top of Fuya Fuya, somewhere above 4000 meters

To finish off our time around the beautiful Otavaldo region, we head up to Laguna Cuicocha in the Reserva Ecológica Citacachi-Cayapas. The guys at the entrance gate seem to change their price a few times before we pay $5 for all three of us to enter the park and camp for the night on a beautiful perch high above the lake. The lake sits in the crater of the inactive Volcán Cotacachi and in the morning we hike the 5 hour loop around the rim – an extremely beautiful walk that includes a huge variety of ecosystems and breathtaking views.

Morning reflections in Laguna Cuicocha

Wow, this place is stunning! I can’t wait for whatever is next.

-Dan

Camping on the side of the road

After a couple of days I collect another hitchhiking backpacker and move east intothe mountains past Parque Nacional Puracé, a spectacular road that winds past a sulphur mine and a few hot springs and waterfalls. I don’t feel like paying the $10 park entrance fee, so don’t hike Volcán Puracé or visit the hot springs. The road gets steeper and narrower the further we go until we are literally winding our way along a single lane track with a 40 meter drop to a ranging river below. A massive truck approaches from the opposite direction so I move over as far as possible, while he advances in the very middle of the road. He does not move over at all, and even yells at me when we are level. As he roars off he hits the back of the Jeep, luckily only catching the very end of the rear bar, denting it and bending it off square.
I don’t know what that’s all about.

Waterfall behind Tierradentro, flooded with recent rain

We camp on the side of this small road in the middle of beautiful green mountains and move on early the next morning to the tiny village of Tierradentro. After paying the $8 entry fee for foreigners to enter the archeological park we set out to hike a loop that joins five sites dotted around the valley and surrounding hillsides. Very quickly we appreciate what a great place we’ve found – it’s a beautiful sunny day and we’re surrounded by lush green mountains dotted with farms and little houses.

The green valley of Tierradentro

The area was inhabited by agricultural precolombians from 1000 BC to 1900 AD with the main evidence of that being various tombs dotted across the landscape. At each site a caretaker escorts us around the various tombs, which are reached by insanely steep concrete stairs that descend into the darkness. Some of the tombs have faces carved into the stone and patterns painted on the walls making them extremely beautiful.

The stairs down into the tombs were insane

Looking out of a tomb at Tierradentro

The highlight for me is the hike to the site called ‘Alto del Aguacate’, which winds through countless little farms on the side of mountains and after some serious climbing ends at the top of a ridge with 360° views. It’s a huge day of hiking and we love it. I bumped into Vince & Marie, my friends I shared a shipping container with, in Salento and find their Land Rover here in Tierradentro as well. Before long we are enjoying laughs over dinner and set up our tent in torrential rain.

Painting inside a tomb

We thought the faces were transformers at Tierradentro

On top of the world at Tierradentro

The next morning we head out in a convoy along the narrow, windy roads only to find the road to civilization has been washed out overnight. After chatting to a bunch of locals we come up with a plan and set out on some very crazy roads. Over the next few hours we cross a couple of impressive and sketchy bridges and drive on some of the most remote roads of my entire trip. It’s great to be so far off the beaten path and locals are genuinely amazed to see us as we roll through tiny little villages.

They build some impressive bridges in these parts

The remote roads in Colombia

The road through the mountains we drove down

Driving through the mountains of Colombia

It’s great to travel with Vince and Marie again and I feel like anything is possible when we are together.

Pet vulture and child, together ?!?

-Dan

Salento in the early morning

Nearby is the beautiful Valle de Cocora, which actually touches into the western side of Parque Nacional Natural Los Nevados. I set out on a small hiking loop, following a river up a lush valley into the mountains. At the end of the trail a family farm has taken advantage of the tourist potential and for $1.50 I get a drink of my choice and viewing of the hummingbirds that are too numerous to count. I sit and watch as the father and two sons load a horse with gear to take down the trail, which they do in the most untroubled manner.

Hiking along the river in Valle de Cocora

Hummingbirds in action

From the farm I hike up to a lookout on a mountaintop which is totally socked in with clouds before looping back to the start. On the way I pass through an extremely green valley filled with the famous wax palm trees – some are over 200 years old. A torrential storm rolls in complete with thunder and lightning, an event I get used to over the coming days. Every morning I get up at sunrise to beautiful blue skies and warm weather and by two or three in the afternoon a huge storm moves over town, dumps enormous amounts of rain then clears again by nightfall.

The amazing wax palms in Valle de Cocora

Wax palms in Valle de Cocora

I love the atmosphere and friendly people so much I stay for five days, wandering around town and the surrounding hills. The farmers here are a dedicated bunch, farming hills so steep it’s a challenge to walk up and down them and it’s great to see the mixed agriculture in the area. In one plot I spot coffee, bananas, pineapples, avocado and bamboo which is used a lot for construction here.

We all loved it when one of these guys had a try at the carnival game with a pellet gun. Hilarious.

-Dan

The temperature drops quite quickly and I smile when I have to wind up my window due to the cold and not long after I turn on the heater, a novelty. I climb and climb and climb and take the turn-off to Parque Nacional Natural Los Nevados. Before long I roll by a sign announcing I’m at 4,000 meters, clearly the highest I’ve ever been in my life. The sun is falling fast so I find a quiet spot off the side of the road to pitch my tent. My only visitors for the night are a herd of cows that are very curious and seem to like hanging around. Once the sun disappears it’s not just cold, but freezing, my little thermometer showing below zero before the night is done.

Guerilla camping in Colombia at 4000 meters

Early in the morning I move up into the park itself which is already busy due to the Easer holidays. All of the rangers are extremely friendly and try exceedingly hard to help me as I move from an orientation session (in extremely fast Spanish) to filling out a basic form to enter the park. Entrance is quite expensive for foreigners, I pay (in $USD) $19 for entry, $12 for a mandatory guide, $6 for the Jeep and another $6 to camp in the official campground for a night.

Rock formation in the National Park

Our guide, Michelle, jumps in my Jeep and we form a convoy of four vehicles driving up high into the park. Every five minutes or so we jump out to have a look at the beautiful scenery while Michelle explains the geological features around us. While we drive together I practice my Spanish which again improves a lot in a very short time. We drive up and up, until we reach 4,700 meters where we have to climb the rest on foot. Michelle explains how quickly we’ll run short of breath at this elevation and so we hike up as slowly as physically possible. I’m careful to make sure I don’t have to breathe really hard, though I can feel my heart rate racing to keep up.

Road to the top

In just over an hour we reach the glacier, at 5,125 meters. It’s stunningly beautiful and everyone is really excited to see ice and snow, the first time for many of the locals. It’s surreal to be up this high in the Andes, the first time of many for me I’m sure. After an hour of hanging around and walking on the glacier I make my make back down to the campground, at around 4,200 meters. By this time I have a mean headache that doesn’t go away until late the following day.

At the summit of Nevado del Ruiz, 5125 meters

At the campground I meet some locals who are crazy about hiking and camping, and even crazier about showing off their fantastic country. We quickly pour over my map of Colombia, talking excitedly about all the places I need to see. The night is again frosty cold and I have out all my cold weather gear, including thermals and two sleeping bags. A couple of times in the night I can feel my heart rate skyrocket just from the exertion of rolling over.

Driving up into the mountains, at about 4500 meters

Interestingly the Jeep performs really well at such high elevations, only take-offs are a little sketchy and need a lot more accelerator than usual. I can think of no better way to relax and cure my headache than a soak in a Hot Spring, and as luck would have it there is one just on the outskirts of Manizales, which I make use of for a couple of hours.

Crater La Olleta, the inactive volcano

-Dan

The sleepy fishing village of Taganga

Cruising

Eel hiding

Some kind of eel thing

All OK diving at night

I move around to Parque National Tayrona, an extremely beautiful reserve with an abundance of white sand beaches. I have to hike in a few kilometers and camp just back from the beach at Arrecifes.
The highlight for me is a serious jungle trek to the ruins of the ancient city of Pueblito with a few friends I made along the way.

The Arrecifes campground in Tayrona

Beach in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona again

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona and again

-Dan

We’re not too sure how to find the good stuff without paying through the teeth, when we meet Eric, a cool booking agent. He’s just opened up in the same building as the supermarket and is very happy to tell us about a couple of free hikes & activities around town. It’s really refreshing to have someone so down to earth, who is not trying to get every last penny from us and genuinely wants us to enjoy ourselves. He’s as excited are we are and soon we’re bouncing around ready for adventure.

The hiking road to the cloudforest

Armed with our new knowledge we set out to hike into the cloud forest at the only place in the area this can be done for free. It’s a really steep muddy road that I drive up as far as possible before parking and continuing on foot. Even though it’s much cooler here we are soon sweating like crazy as we climb up and up, right into the clouds. The views from the top are said to be spectacular on a clear day, though we can barely see ten meters through the thick fog which doesn’t diminish the beauty. We move on to the second free hike, and find a massive hollow fig tree that Mike climbs into a long way.

View of the cloudforest

The giant Fig tree that Mike climbed into

Before the day is done we make our way out to the San Luis Waterfall, a beautiful 35 minute walk along a river deep in the jungle. The falls themselves are about 90 meters high (300 ft.) and hugely impressive. Swimming below is freezing, and we grin from ear to ear.

The 90 meter San Luis Waterfall

The main attraction in this area is zipline tours, and with Eric’s help we get a deal on the best outfit in town, eXtremo.
With a name like that how could we possibly pass it up?

We are harnessed, helmeted and harnessed again before being given a 5 minute safety talk. We’ll be connected to cables spanning huge distances and leather gloves are our only brakes. If the guide waves frantically, pull down on the cable, we are told. Simple enough.
Before long we are flying from platform to platform, across huge spans at really high speed. It’s amazingly good fun and everyone is really excited. Braking turns out to be pretty simple and soon I have the technique down; come in at suicidal speed and try to burn through my glove in the last meter or two. Adding a look of complete horror on my face terrifies a couple of the guides whose job it is to ‘catch’ me.

Hanging out in the treetops

The guides take a liking to me and tell me the best way to ride the tarzan swing is backwards, so off I step, completely unable to see where I am going.

Mike about to set out on the zipline

Mike coming in on the zipline

The main event of the day is the “superman” cable where we are harnessed in so we are lying down, superman style. Everyone quickly starts humming the theme song and calls of “Superman!” can be heard echoing all around. The guides let me hold my camera on this one, so I take a video of what it looks like while whizzing along. Really, really fun.

The superman zipline

It’s really hard to judge my speed in the video, so I did some quick numbers; The cable is 1080 meters long and I complete the trip in 54 seconds, making for an average speed of 72 km/h (45 mph).

-Dan

Apparently the explosion level is "normal"

We get picked up from our ‘hotel’ at two in the afternoon and settle into the mini-van for an hour and a half drive out to the volcano. The last half an hour or so we do some serious climbing and are all pretty happy to pile out, ready to hike. Immediately we are swamped by small children trying to sell us all sorts of things we don’t need. A few people in our group succumb and buy walking sticks after the children repeat “is necessary” about 250 times each.

Volcán Pacaya smoking away

We start walking up the steep dusty path and the enthusiasm of the group drops as the realization of the difficult hike sets in. I’m in my element here and love every minute of it, rushing to the front to talk to people, then slowing down and chatting to others further back. The hiking changes from hot, dry and dusty to small volcanic pebbles then huge volcanic boulders with razor sharp bits all over. We quickly climb above the cloud level and are treated to an amazing view of Volcán Fuego (Fire), which can be seen from Antigua and spits out a huge smoke cloud every couple of hours.

Kate & Dan with Volcán Pacaya smoking in the background

The hiking turns into a rock scramble and then a very congested rock scramble as about sixty or so tourists try to make their way to the top. I’m uncomfortable to have so many hikers on the extremely unstable rocks that are constantly being kicked down to rain on those below. As we near the action the rocks under us begin to get hotter and hotter, to the point where I don’t want to use my hands for balance anymore and I’m sweating profusely. Occasionally a strong sulphur smell wafts past, adding to the general excitement. I stop and have a good look up and see heat haze pouring off the mountain all around me. A guide points to some funny colored rocks I’m standing on and says they were lava last week. Cooooool.

The congested steep rock scramble

I reach a point where lots of people are milling around and am stunned to see lava less than four meters away. I climb up on a high point and am then about three meters away from the small flow that is slowly sliding down the mountainside. The heat pouring off is immense and when the wind changes it’s overwhelming on my legs and face and I really don’t want to hang around for too long, especially with thirty or forty more people still climbing up.

The flowing lava was moving a foot every 10 seconds or so

I move down to a lower vantage point which turns out to be an amazingly good idea as more and more people pack onto the extremely hot, uneven rocky surface. A couple of times people slip and panic trying to get away from the heat and have nowhere to go because of all the people – not a good scene at all.

Dan loving the lava flow

I stand around on my little platform chatting to various people and roasting marshmallows.
Yep, you read that right.
I roasted marshmallows on lava.
From where I was standing I could poke a marshmallow on a stick through some cracks towards the lava. It only took a few seconds to have it roasted to perfection & I honestly think they were the best marshmallows I’ve ever eaten. I wonder if I’ll ever go back to regular old flame roasted.

A few of the guys standing around with me are only wearing very thin-soled shoes and they melt and stick to the rocks, making for some pretty anxious faces and a nasty melted plastic smell. As the sun dips below the horizon the sunset is spectacular and the visible lava increases ten fold in the dusk. The majority of people make their way down and I stay to milk the experience for every second, knowing I can get down pretty fast when I want to.

A group of people have gone about ten meters further than the rest and upon hearing a report I know I have to check it out. I make my way further up, through a really hot section were between every rock I step on is red hot lava, a freaky experience. At the top is a good standing area where the temperature is bearable and we’re only about 2 meters from the flow of lava, which is significantly more here.

Getting close now...

I stand and stare in awe at the liquid rock. It really is amazing and hard to comprehend.

There was a lot here and it was really moving

I’m really curious about the consistency of the lava and so I throw a few rocks in to see what happens. It turns out it has a reasonably hard invisible shell and the rocks mostly bounce off or kind of sit on top for a while. Marshmallows and sticks turn to flame instantly upon contact.

Lava all around us

I stay for as long as possible, and in the quickly fading light the lava really comes alive, glowing bright red all around us. I could easily stay up here all night, but my group is far ahead of me, so I make quick time on the way down to catch them up.

Sunset above cloud level

Volcán Fuego spitting out smoke

Hiking up Volcán Pacaya is a really amazing experience and I’m still grinning like mad thinking about it.

Volcán Pacaya glowing in the dark

-Dan

Our first stop for the day is the Kan’Ba Cave system, which quite literally goes straight into the side of a mountain. Our guide ties our flip-flops to our feet with string(!), hands us a candle each, and leads the way into the cave.
Note the lack of hard hats, lights or safety harnesses.
Only twenty steps in the Goonies jokes are flying, with Ben letting out a huge “Hey, you guys!” that has us all in hysterics distracting us from the increasing darkness and shin deep water we are walking through. I can’t believe how quickly the light disappears until we are completely enveloped in inky blackness, the only light coming from out flickering candles. We continue in this fashion for a hundred meters or so, passing cool cave formations and walking through a few places where the cave is only two meters wide and the water is up to my waist.

Yep, it's pretty dark

In these early stages we use a series of ladders to navigate around a tunnel where water is ripping through, and I climb a few vertical meters up a waterfall using a rope (most people go around). We get to a spot where our guide climbs up the wall and jumps a couple of meters down into a deep pool, and a few of us copy suit. He shows us a place where you can swim down about a meter and a half, slide between some very tight, sharp rocks and come up on the other side of a rock formation, staying underwater for at least 15 or 20 seconds. I wedge myself in the space  with my head above water to see what it feels like and immediately feel uncomfortable and scared.

No. Way.

The roof is pretty low... (imagine no flash)

We continue further and further and come to a series of sections that are too deep to walk. One at a time we plunge in, half swimming and half treading water with one hand while trying to keep our candles out of the water with the other. The stakes go up a little when out guide loses his lighter, meaning we’ll be in the dark if all our candles go out. We go in about 450 meters, which is as far as tourists are allowed – the cave system continues for 11 kilometers. For the finale we get to a section where the stalactites are literally touching the water and we have to go under for just a second to get through. It’s pretty funny two minutes later when we find out we could have just walked around that section

And now we swim... (imagine no flash)

The highlight on the way out is going down the tunnel with rushing water we avoided on the way in. I go first and the guide carefully shows me where to sit and put my hands and feet. When I pop out at the bottom I’m in complete darkness, my candle having been underwater during the trip. It feels really strange to be in a room with no idea what is around me, and I blindly feel around and guess where to sit to help the next person down.

At times we held our breath to get under the roof

Everyone is pretty happy when we see daylight and step out into the warm sun.

Next up is a huge rope swing into the fast flowing Rio Cahabón. It’s a little different than what I’m used to because it has two ropes with a plank of wood in between forming a seat. Getting out of the seat when you are about five meters about the river is a little strange and one of our group lands on her side, making a huge red welt.

The beautiful Rio Cahabón we played on for the day

We walk upstream a few hundred meters to a raging waterfall, and the guide and I swim over to check it out. The very vast majority of the river water is flowing underground, under the waterfall and the guide and I walk into the massive caverns with seriously raging water down below. We climb around to the top of the waterfall and I have such a great time jumping off the 8 meters (25 ft.) I climb up and do it again

Jumping off about 8 meters (25 ft.)

We float back downstream on inner-tubes through some rapids, trying to have a water fight the entire time. We load back into the truck and drive around to Semuc Champy itself for the main attraction. A 35 minute hike gives us an amazing view of the pools below, which we swim in for about an hour. These pools are on the top of the waterfall I jumped off earlier – the pool water goes over the falls and we go and have a look upstream where the majority of water goes underground. Wow.

The amazing pools at Semuc Champy

The water is amazingly clear

Hanging out of the truck on the way back is immensely fun again, this time everyone is laughing and enjoying themselves, not just me. Again I put in a strong showing at the buffet dinner after such a huge day.

Swimming/lazing in the sunshine is amazing

The beautiful pools are everywhere

Guatemala is awesome.

-Dan

This crew of leaf-cutter ants was moving across a road

We get moving the next morning and I throughly enjoy learning about a new country. Belize uses miles per hour and gallons for gasoline, so apparently they have not switched to metric. Also the Belize Dollar is artificially fixed at 2 to 1 to the US Dollar, which I had no idea about. After being in Mexico for two months I’m a little shocked at the prices which are much close to the US and Canada, it’s obvious this is not going to be a cheap country. I drive for about an hour without seeing a single road sign of any kind, and asking for directions yields the thickest Jamaican-like accent I have ever heard.

The main boardwalk at Crooked Tree

Our first stop is at Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary, an extremely peaceful place where the local community is living in a sustainable way. While we are having lunch the park ranger guys wander over and we chat for a long time about a whole range of topics. Both of us immensely enjoy this ability to just sit around feeling very safe and chat about life. We wander around the sanctuary for a couple of hours, enjoying the peace and quiet while spotting tons birds.

So beautiful

We move along and find the Bermudian Landing Community Baboon Sanctuary, a small town that has lived in harmony with a thriving population of howler monkeys for generations. The visitors centre has just closed so we drive around kind of aimlessly looking for a place to stay. We end up at a tour company run by a funny guy named Shane. He charges us next to nothing for camping and before long we a sitting down to a delicious meal cooked by his grandmother enjoyed with some mango wine we bought from a guy with a stall on the side of the highway.

The lush jungle near Shane's place

We wake to very heavy rain and so the tent and some of the things inside are completely soaked and covered in mud. Not to be deterred we set out on Shane’s wilderness tour and are amazed to find a family of howler monkeys in a tree less than 30 meters from our tent. The really heavy rain seems to dampen their spirits a little no matter how hard Shane tries he can not get them to come down to him. We wander around in the jungle for a while learning about all the plants and trees before calling it quits. Just when we are about to leave Shane coaxes a couple of the younger monkeys all the way down to him. Kate holds out a small piece of banana and the smallest of them all comes down, tugs her hand closer and eats right out of it. It’s an amazing experience, although I’m not sure how I feel about feeding wild animals.
Shane assures me there is no dependance or habit forming behavior. Hmmm.

Kate and the little howler monkey

Kate is quite sick and we’re both cold, wet and tired as we set out for Belize City.

A howler monkey hiding from the rain

-Dan

At Red Mountain, BC (xmas day 2006)

Mike was one of the first people I talked to when I first dreamed of this adventure and he’s been my strongest supporter ever since. Without his help, I’m not sure I’d be doing what I am today. Lately we’ve pushing each other more and more with the world adventure bit and I can’t wait to see what Mike comes up with next.

Having just lost an egg throwing contest at Club Getaway (2007)

I’m extremely lucky to have Mike for a brother, and even luckier that he’s one of my best friends.

Mike and Dan starting The West Coast Trail (2009)

I’ll call you today Mike!

-Dan

• Dry out all my wet stuff, including my boots.
• Repair a broken tent pole with my last spare piece.
• Work on my tan.
• Read huge amounts of “Travels with Charley” by John Steinbeck, a book I can’t put down.
• Finally work on my dreadlocks – they’ve been pretty ratty lately.

In the morning I am up early, in anticipation of the mighty Canyon that lies ahead. A stop at the visitors center is disappointing when I find it nothing more than a glorified book store – all of my questions are answered with suggestions of books I should buy; “But it’s only $49.95″ I am told eagerly.
Thanks, but no thanks.

Fall colors in force

Friends said the North Kaibab Trail is the way to go on the North Rim, so I set out down the trail, only really knowing that it’s steep and drops some serious elevation. I think I’ve overdone the rock and canyon formations this week and so am not particularly impressed with the view from the North Rim. When I was about 16 I visited the South Rim and my memories of that are a lot more spectacular than the view I have now. I think it’s because I am a long way from the Colorado River here and ‘the canyon proper’, so it’s not as immense as it can be in other places.

More pretty rock formations

I power downhill as fast as I possibly can, knowing it’s going to be much harder and hotter on the way back up. Every step I take down I can feel the air temperature going up, as it reaches a solid 87 ˚F. Almost everyone that I pass has a huge pack and are planning on spending at least a couple of nights at the canyon floor before hiking up to the South Rim. The trail is wide and dusty, and drops elevation in a serious fashion.

The canyon wall

I drop 3215 ft (1000 meters) to Roaring Springs, a quiet shady spot perfect for lunch. I feel like I’ve seen enough and so begin the long walk back to the top. It’s not impossibly hard, but it’s not easy either, and a steady rhythm helps me through the time.

The Grand part is out there in the distance

The campground shower is only $1.50, a bargain after another big day of hiking. Before long I find myself back on my little bluff eating huge smokies with ketchup/mustard/relish, my favorite meal on the road.

The trail drops steeply to the canyon floor

-Dan

I don’t even wear a watch any more, so waking up to an alarm is very strange for me. I’ve been in the Mountain Time Zone for nearly a month now, and my watch and clock in the jeep are still set on the wrong time zone. At 5am sunrise is so far away the sky does not even have a hint of light yet, just a smattering of stars visible above Zion Canyon. I met Mike the day before hiking Angel’s Landing and we rendezvous at the visitors center, then set out for the 90 minute drive to Chamberlain’s Ranch Trailhead, immensely thankful for car heaters.

The air has a cold bite as we set off with our tiny day packs and not much gear, knowing we have a massive day of difficult hiking ahead. At the first river crossing about a hundred feet away I play the rock hopping game to keep my heavy leather boots dry as long as possible.
One thought repeats over and over in my mind; it’s not going to last.

Mike in the wide canyon

The first hour of walking is on a jeep trail in an open valley, and we both eagerly point and smile when we see the canyon walls slowly creeping up from the ground. The Virgin River soon identifies itself to us, and we’re crossing and crossing again in no time.
When told the river is running at 54˚F (12˚C), we cried out in unison “Sounds perfect!”
It’s not.
It’s cold.

At times the fall colors were brilliant, making us think we were out for a stroll

Stumbling along with our numb feet we quickly realize the task of the day is river crossings. At this early stage of the canyon, only one side rises vertically to an impossible height, while the other side is wide open and flat. With every bend the river takes, the sides are continually swapping and therefore so are we. The river here is only shin deep at best and not flowing with any real urgency, so we make good time and arrive at “First Narrows” ahead of schedule.

Mike entering First Narrows

We’ve been able to see the sun shining on the canyon walls all morning, but it’s been too narrow and steep to allow the warmth to reach us. We’re grinning like mad when we see a patch of sunlight beaming on the hillside that we can reach and perch there for our first snack break, trying to thaw our feet.

About to enter First Narrows

Not surprisingly, First Narrows is the first time the canyon walls close in and are completely vertical, forcing us to walk right down the river. I can’t touch both walls at the same time, but it’s close. We agree it would be a riot to jump off the 15 foot waterfall into the turquoise pool below, shivering uncontrollably as we walk around it.

The waterfall in First Narrows

The canyon opens up again and we hike for many hours, endless crossing the river, hopping over rocks and crossing the river again. All the while it’s gaining water, making it grow in depth and intensity. The crossings are turning into wading, and both of us hesitate when it’s obviously over our waist. We backtrack and try the other side, only to find it even deeper. Mike takes one for the team and goes first – grimacing on tippy toes the whole way.

Mike trying to avoid the deeper turquoise water

We continue in this fashion for a long time, never really going above our waists – but it was never going to last. Walking in the river is much harder than I anticipated – the bottom is strewn with rocks of all sizes that move when stepped on, and the flowing water is white and impossible to see through. We silently know a fall is all but inevitable. Mike takes a tiny goat track high above the river, which I really don’t like the look of. Maybe if I back track five minutes I’d find a way around the other side, but I’ve been kinda looking for an excuse to swim all morning.

The impressive canyon walls

I take off my pack, hold it high above my head with one hand and forge ahead aiming for the far bank, only 15 feet away. When the bottom drops out from under me I get a huge shock and realize it’s a lot harder to tread water with one hand while wearing heavy leather hiking boots than I thought. I’m fighting hard to keep my mouth above the water and think seriously about ditching my pack, while Mike looks on helplessly from above. I manage to struggle across with a dry pack, and it occurs to me what a stupid thing I just did. I was never going to drown, but I was cold before I started and now I’m really cold.

Precious sunlight at the canyon top

Pretty soon I’m shivering hard and decide the only thing for it is to keep moving while rubbing my core and thinking warm thoughts. We continue in the same vein, passing Big Spring and reach The Narrows – the insanely narrow, steep section of the canyon that makes this hike so famous. Walking in the river for extended periods is absolutely mandatory as the walls tower over a thousand feet above our heads.

Big Spring

The canyon here is steeper, taller and more colorful than anything we’ve seen yet and it’s clearly the highlight of the day. It’s possible to reach this section of the canyon by hiking up from the main park area and we soon start seeing the odd person, then more and more until it’s quite busy. We realize our huge day is coming to an end, so we subconsciously slow down, trying to soak in every last minute possible. Everyone else has rented hiking poles, dry suits and massive camera setups and are trying to avoid the deeper water like the plague. We throughly enjoy looking freakishly out of place as we wade through the deepest parts of the river in shorts, grinning from ear to ear.

The Narrows, which are

Sloshing along the hike out in soaking wet gear attracts some great scowls and looks of genuine surprise and even fear from other park visitors. The remainder of the day is filled with riding the bus back to the visitors center, picking up my Jeep, driving to get Mike’s car and then all the way back.

"The Narrows"

With very limited stops it took us nine hours of solid hiking, and all told it’s a fifteen hour round trip day from the visitors center.

Zion Narrows was an amazing day hike, in my opinion clearly worthy of it’s top ten world ranking.

-Dan

Zion has a really great setup where you park at the visitor’s center or the nearby town of Springdale and catch a free bus anywhere you want to go. The canyon is so small and popular this is really the only way to deal with the number of people, and it works really really well. A bus shows up every few minutes and makes about ten stops on the way up the canyon, then the same on the return loop. Driving up the canyon in a bus is also a great way to look around and really soak in the views, while listening to commentary about what you can see.

I’ve heard how crazy of a hike Angel’s Landing is, so I’m well prepared with a couple of liters of water, snacks, hiking boots & my waterproof shell. I get a bit confused and think I’m going the wrong way when I see family groups, small children and people in jeans and city shoes.

The view along Zion Canyon

It turns out the first four and a half miles are relatively family friendly. I do need to clarify that – it’s nice and wide, well trafficked and well maintained and it’s also steep. Ridiculously steep. Right from the get-go the switchbacks start and they don’t let up until I break out onto a landing, apparently where most people stop and turn around. I’m impressed when a hiker overtakes me on the steep incline, something that doesn’t happen very often.

Zion Canyon as seen from the top

I’m of course going to the very top and so begin the final half mile which is equally as steep, about 20 feet wide and with at least a thousand foot vertical drop on both sides. Chains have been placed into the rock, which come in very handy on more than a few occasions.
I consider myself very confident with my footing, even at these heights.
I’m still holding on

It's a long way down

The busy trail makes the going slow as we have to stop for people coming down and co-ordinate who gets to hold on and who has to let go and find their own way. It’s clear the children and non-hikers have all turned around before now and I’m moving up with only dedicated hikers. Every step the view gets better and better, and my eyes bulge further and further from my head.

The ridge and surrounds

Of course I walk all the way out to the very highest end point of the ridge and am rewarded with an amazing view up and down Zion Canyon. Even more impressive is the view of the ridge I have just hiked up – it looks more narrow now that I thought. I sit and enjoy the sun for an hour, munching on my snacks and chatting to all the hikers coming and going.

Standing on the top, very aware of the drop behind me

I meet Mike, the hiker who overtook me earlier and we quickly discover we are both living the same kind of life. Mike quit his engineering job a couple of years ago and has been traveling around ever since, seeing the world. His latest adventures have him living out of his car across America and by now he has seen almost all the National Parks. You can check out his travel website at www.mypinkyup.com, the name of which comes from his permanently damaged little finger courtesy of some muggers in Columbia.

Mike and I are both excited to hike the biggest, baddest, bestest trail Zion has to offer and eagerly sign up for the next morning.
Signing five different waivers about the dangers only makes us more excited….

-Dan

Bryce National Park is a completely different story. I chat to a really cool ranger at the visitors center who quickly realizes I’m the no-nonsense, no-frills kind of visit. She recommends a couple of solid day hikes for me, the first with amazing scenery and tons of people, the second is almost as impressive and has no people. I smile when the ranger realizes lack of people is a good thing for me.

Looking down on Bryce Canyon

First up I hit the ‘The Figure 8′ trail, a combination of three different trails for a total of 6.4 miles of reportedly strenuous hiking (defined as steep grades with MULTIPLE elevation changes). From the very outset at Sunrise Point I am extremely impressed with Bryce Canyon & the thousands of hoodoos within. A hoodoo is a pillar of rock left behind when the canyon eroded away something like 10 million years ago. Each hoodoo is amazingly unique in size, shape and the colors that go into it’s makeup.

The hoodoos are freaky when compared to regular mountains

I wander down the very popular & busy Queens Garden Trail, right into the middle of some amazingly breathtaking formations. Hoodoos begin to surround me as a walk down and down, all the way to the canyon floor. It’s busy here, and it’s easy to see why – the scenery is stunning and the sun is beaming down on us.

Every one is a different blend of colors

More and more

I continue on to the Navajo Trail, then the steep and quiet Peekaboo Loop. The trails climb up to almost the top of the canyon then descend right back to the bottom time after time, weaving in and out of hoodoos and strange rock formations the entire time.

Hoodoos close up

Wall Street, Bryce Canyon

I wind up back at the Jeep for a hot lunch, then set out on The Fairyland Loop, 8 miles of again strenuous walking up and down the canyon, in and out of the hoodoos. Just as the ranger said, this trail is not quite as scenic, and the major difference is I don’t see another hiker the entire time.

Through the looking glass

The Tower Bridge at Bryce

It turns out to be a big day of hiking in beautiful sunshine and I melt in my sleeping bag after a $2 shower at the campground.

The vista over the canyon

Wall of hoodoos at Bryce

-Dan

Infront of the Grand Tetons

I cross the small river in bare feet, which immediately go completely numb. I jump up and down on the spot for a few minutes inducing painful pins and needles while trying to eye off the soaking potential of the spring. Hot water flows 5 meters (15 feet) down a rock face to a two-person rock pool. Every attempt has been made to deny access to the river water, but I quickly find the attempt is futile. I soak for only five minutes, unable to tolerate the uncooperative freezing water finding it’s way in from bottom of the pool.
The setting is first class, very close to the spectacular falls and I’m sure the spring can be amazing, when the river is cooperating.

Granite Hot Spring

I camp nearby, at a beautiful campsite on the river’s edge and endure another night well below freezing. My tent is covered by a thick sheet of ice in the morning so I am happy to linger in the morning sun while it slowly melts and evaporates.

I’ve been thinking about it over and over and today is the day – I want to drive a long way south to escape the relentless advance of winter. I find Wyoming a beautiful, relaxed state and am pleased I get to drive the length of it from north to south. Entering Utah the mountains fade in my mirrors and give way to arid desert, with bizarre rock formations the likes of which I have never before seen.
The earth here is bright red, desert red, and I am strongly reminded of the town I grew up in in rural Australia.

Words can’t convey how elated I am to be out hiking in shorts and t-shirt upon my arrival in Arches National Park – the first time I’ve felt the hot sun in what feels like weeks. I’ve been looking forward to a solid hike and set out to tackle the Devil’s Garden Loop, 8.8 miles of packed sightseeing. The trail begins wide and flat allowing for the many hundreds of people making the short trip to Landscape Arch, a clear and deserving favorite. Soon the trail is narrow & faint as it twists and turns it’s way from one natural arch to the next.

Landscape Arch

Double O Arch

The loop is very spectacular and it feels great to pound out a fast pace in the hot morning sun.

The view through Partition Arch

Typical of the landscape in Arches

I’m told Delicate Arch is one of the best in the park and so I find it impossible to pass up the 3 mile uphill hike. I’m surprised when I soon pass a sign “Petroglyphs”, leading down a small, unused trail. I’ve always found things of this nature extremely interesting and can’t believe more people are not taking the tiny detour. I find the drawings (circa 1650-1850) extremely clear and detailed and can’t believe there is not another person in sight!

Petroglyphs clear as can be

The hike up is very impressive, climbing over rock, sand and skirting the edge of a very high cliff with no safety fences in sight. The arch itself is impressive to say the least, so I sit to enjoying it, chatting to a German couple for the better part of an hour.

Delicate Arch

I’ve had a really good feeling for the entire day and it’s capped off sitting on the warm rocks in the early afternoon chatting and laughing so easily.

Loving the sunshine at Arches

It turns out my National Park Grand Tour™ is just warming up…

Window Arch in the distance

-Dan

Driving across Idaho

I briefly touch into Montana and enter the park at West Yellowstone – what a zoo that place is. It has one of every tourist trap possible and then some. I am strongly reminded of Niagara Falls on the Canadian side.

Upon entering the park, I learn that three major roads are closed; one for roadwork for the season, one because they can’t find a snow plow and one because there is a ton of smoke on the road from a nearby forest fire. This last one does open for very short periods a couple of times a day, so I’ll have to actually plan ahead if I want to make it to the North end of the park.

I start out driving South, through the geothermal region of the park. I knew about the geyser called Old Faithful, but I had no idea the amount of geothermal activity in the park. There are six or eight places to stop and walk along a boardwalk to see countless hot springs, geysers and geothermal activity in general.

Geothermal colors are everywhere

Being such a hot spring nut I’m overjoyed with all of this and happily wander around taking everything in. It is so cold outside steam is everywhere, sometimes so thick it’s difficult to see the boardwalk I’m trying to stay on. It snows lightly on and off throughout the day.

Steam was rising in every direction

Most of the geysers are steaming, sometimes bubbling a little and the occasional one is fully erupting, spitting boiling hot water and steam high into the air. Extremely inviting turquoise pools dot the landscape in every direction.

Beautiful turquoise pool

One of my favorite features are small holes in the ground, that are bubbling and steaming quite violently. The noise is close to a roar and some are so loud it’s impossible to carry a conversation with the person standing next to you.

Mini geyser bubbling away

There are literally thousands of people and cars getting around the park, including full tour buses complete with a mega-phone wielding guide who’s goal in life seemed to be irritation. To give you an idea of the sheer volume of people in the park, the ‘exit’ for Old Faithful is a full-blow freeway overpass, complete with on and off ramps.
Yep, all of that inside a National Park.

Geyser in full eruption

I arrive at Old Faithful in time to see the tail end of an eruption, water and steam being shot 10 meters (30 feet) into the air. I wander around and find myself on a hiking trail up behind Old Faithful to a lookout, that continues to more springs and geysers. There are no people here and it’s really nice to have some alone time for the first time in the park.

Old Faithful in 'natural' setting

The walk is really beautiful and I find myself at Solitary Geyser – a fairly tame looking pool with the occasional bubble rising to the surface. The information sign says it erupts about every five to seven minutes, so I sit down on a log and wait for the show. The bubbles become more frequent, so I get my camera ready, not sure what to expect. Without any further warning the entire pool rises up as a huge ‘bubble’ in a single massive outburst. I’m sitting close enough that my boots get wet when the hot water comes back down and the pool is completely still again.
That was cool.

Solitary geyser gave me a scare when it errupted

Mystic falls, with steam at the top

I set up camp and cook dinner in the pitch black while it’s snowing heavily.

‘OK’, I think
‘I’ve had enough of this winter camping’.

In the morning I intentionally sleep in till 9am, waiting for the sun to rise to warm everything up. The thermometer hanging in the Jeep says -12 ˚C (10 ˚F) and even my full 35 liter water container is almost frozen solid. Yep, I thought it was cold last night

It was hard not to jump in...

The road closures mean it will take an entire day of driving to get to Mammoth Hot Springs at the north end of the park, a place that comes very highly recommended. A lot of snow fell last night, so I would not be surprised if more roads are now closed. I completely lose feeling in my hands while packing up camp, which helps me make the decision I was already leaning towards…

I’m driving South, right now.

I enjoyed what I saw of Yellowstone, but I can’t help thinking something is a little wrong with the place. Many thousands of people were driving around, shuffling out of their cars for a few minutes before driving around to the next place. I saw plenty of people that didn’t even get out, taking photos from inside their cars.
I’ve come to think of it as ‘drive-thru wilderness’ – that sounds crazy I know, but that’s exactly how it is.
I’m sure it would be a different story if I hit some of the back-country hiking trails.

This one was really deep

What’s next? I don’t know, something South. I hope it warms up soon

-Dan

I’ve been told by many different people about Goldbug (Elk Bend) Hot Spring and I’ve seen enough pictures and heard many stories that make it a must visit. I get stuck into the scenic two mile hike, walking up a rocky valley the whole time. Most of the way is a gradual climb and the last half mile is very steep.
I can absolutely say it was worth the hike!

The view from the springs

A very high flow of hot water emerges from the ground right near a natural little creek. The water mixes and flows down over rocks and through pools getting cooler and cooler as it goes down further

Goldbug is wedged in a steep rocky valley

A couple of different hot sources mean that pools on the right are hotter than pools on the left. The pools are constructed entirely with natural rock – no cement or plastic here. Each pool has a gravel bottom and the high flow rate keeps them very clean and free of slime and algae.

Flowing down the valley

I have the entire place to myself and wander around for half an hour testing all the different pools and taking photos. I soak for many hours, not really aware of time passing at all.

There are numerous pools to choose from

My favorite pool is about shoulder deep when sitting/lying down and has a rock on the edge at a perfect 45 degree angle for leaning on. Looking at the freshly snow capped mountains and the storm clouds roll by is the definition of relaxation.

Twin crystal clear soaking pools (my favourite)

It snows very lightly for a minute, adding to the aura of the whole place.

I’ve tried many times to come up with a rating system for natural hot springs, but have never been satisfied with the result. Lets look at some of the characteristics I like to consider:

• Accessibility – Not too easy and not impossible, just right.
• Temperature – Some pools above body temp all the way down to river temp. 10/10.
• Number of pools – About ten of a decent temperature, plenty.
• Crowdedness – All to myself
• Flow rate – More than high enough.
• Human impact – One wooden bridge is visible. No trash, no plastic & no concrete. 95%.
• Water quality – Completely odorless and crystal clear. Could not be better.
• View while soaking – See for yourself. I say Breathtaking.

The view while soaking

What does all that rambling mean? I’m not entirely sure.
It would be a very big call to say it’s the best natural hot spring I’ve ever been to, but it just might be.
Maybe.

-Dan

Dan & Jeff too early in the morning...

I catch up to Jeff, Randy and Paul halfway through floating the Clackamas River on an amazing 90 degree day. I appear very briefly in the following video, taken by Paul while floating that afternoon. I think it gives a pretty clear picture of how much fun we are having – tons!

I stay with Jeff, his girlfriend Andee and cousin Mikey for about ten days, during which time we get into all sorts of trouble and have any number of adventures. I was very remiss with my camera and have photos of next to nothing. My memories are also slightly foggy just for fun.

I’ll do by best to recount the highlights:

• Mikey inviting us to party on a boat moored in the marina. Mikey passed out before we arrived, leaving us to endlessly sing the hilarious lines from “I’m on a boat” and generally cause trouble in downtown Portland.(If you haven’t seen the video for that song, go watch it now)

• Our traditional Bagby Hot Springs trip – Jeff ended up fighting the forest, I walked into camp long after the sun had come up minus one flip-flop, Jeff lost his cell phone and we all laugh hysterically and shake our heads whenever we mention the trip.

Bagby hot springs

• Many, many rounds of disc golf on practically every nearby course. We played multiple rounds at Pier Park, Lunchtime, Timber Park, Rooster Rock and the incredibly long McIver Park. One hole at McIver is a 1,186 feet par 5! I played a minimum of 18 holes every single day, which improved my game a lot.

• Games of pool with Spencer – at one time winning competitions was his full time job and I’ve never seen anyone that can play like him. In our first game he ran the table off the break, never once looking like he was even trying. Everything he does is very well thought out and he’s very happy to share and answer the ten thousand questions I throw at him.

• Driving everyone to work then having to find my own way home through downtown Portland. I got lost twice, but having nowhere else to be meant I enjoyed the drive all the more

• Going fishing in a stocked pond and paying for the fish we caught. Three extremely fresh fish for $11 is a pretty good deal if you ask me.

• Randy and I took a drive down to hike the Silver Falls loop trail – a trail that boasts ten waterfalls in only eight miles. The hike was fantastic and we decided the two dry falls should just be called cliffs.

Randy admiring a waterfall

Once again I had an awesome time in Portland and can’t wait to see the crew again sometime.

The afternoon sun was brilliant

-Dan

We are the only people in camp when we return from our walk to the Carmanah Giant, everyone else has walked the 30 mins to the Indian Reservation where a burger can be bought for $15 and beer for $7. We watch a couple of whales surfacing out in the bay until the sun goes down, completely happy with our de-hydrated hiking food. It occurs to us that we are not tempted by the burgers and beer because we are not sacrificing anything to be here. If we wanted to be eating burgers and drinking beer, we’d be sitting on a couch doing that.

Beautiful in the sunshine

The next morning we set out to hike around the point below the Carmanah Lighthouse. The lighthouse keeper tells us that many people turn back from the seaweed covered cliff, which makes us all the more determined.

At times we climbed vertical rock to stay ocean side

At one point the going gets so hairy we all assess the situation and give the OK before we move forward as a group. Rock climbing with a pack tuns out to be quite the challenge and I don’t move a muscle when a wave comes in while my foot is on a low rock, perfectly happy to get a soaked boot instead of scrambling and maybe slipping into the waves.

Hiking the beach

We continue along the beach, rock shelf and finally move inland again. We are dumbfounded by the state of disrepair the boardwalks are in. Broken and rotting boards are everywhere, the entire structures are slanted in all directions, they move under our feet, have rusty nails sticking out all over and are extremely slippery. None of us has ever seen a trail in such a state of decay and agree it would be much safer to just remove the rotting boardwalks altogether. It is becoming very clear why there is almost one rescue per day on this trail.

Mike amused at the state of the boardwalks

We arrive at the Nitnat Narrows ferry to see hikers eating salmon, crab and drinking expensive beer. This is another place the natives have found their captive audience and are making a killing. The Nitnat Narrows are a tidal inlet that feed a lake and as such have massive incoming and outgoing currents as the water lags behind the tides. We heard a story of one guy swimming across, but it’s not something we are about to try.

The trail got all Indiana Jones at times

The official trail map has one interesting bullet point we discuss at length:

• Assume all surfaces are slippery

We decide the word ‘assume’ could safely be removed after we all take a fall or two. My best effort was while walking along the ocean side rock shelf, in about two or three centimeters of water. After slipping a couple of times and slowing down, I completely loose it and land on my butt and pack in the shallow water getting completely soaked and putting a big dent in my pride. When Mike sees me he bursts out laughing and the three of us are instantly in hysterics. Roger loves that our first reaction is to burst out laughing at each other, then ask if the fallen party is injured.

Mike & Roger

We continue inland and on the beaches to Tsusiat Falls, our campsite for the night after 21 km. We’ve been told the falls can be very spectacular during a high rainfall year, but they are not much more than slightly impressive during our visit. Mike declares he has a cold and puts himself to bed the minute I get the tent set up. At first, he won’t even get out of bed to eat dinner – but I finally manage to convince him to eat something and he’s happier for it.

The not so mighty Tsusiat Falls

It rains overnight and into the morning, but me manage to pack-up in a brief respite and after an hour of walking we can see the day will be clear. We only have 13 km to walk for the day and really enjoy ourselves – relaxing into the hiking routines and taking our time at lunch. Sitting around the campfire at Michigan Creek that night all the northbound hikers are in high spirits – we have only one short day to hike.

Sunset behind a cable car (Carmanah Creek)

Our fifth and final day we wake to seriously heavy rain and try to keep our spirits high by saying it wouldn’t be an authentic West Coast Trail Experience™ without some solid rain. By the time we cook breakfast and pack-up we are completely soaked, though knowing we have only 12 km to finish gets us going.

At times the boadwalks are endless

The trail here is all inland and although it’s not as difficult as the other end of the trail, all of the mud patches are deeper, the surfaces are slipperier and most times a small creek runs down the trail. It makes us all realize how different the hike would be if it rained solidly for five days – we are covered in mud and it’s next to impossible to keep everything dry. Passing hikers walking in the other direction I notice how clean they look and how nice they smell. Is that makeup I see?

I smile ear to ear as it occurs to me I am now the guy that reeks of campfire.

Roger, Mike & Dan at the end of the trail!

-Dan

Much like the Chilkoot, the First Nations people of the area had been using the trail for hundreds of years before foreign sailing ships came into the picture. The rugged coastline claimed many unsuspecting ships and so from 1888 to 1890 the government built a telegraph line on the trail in the hopes of saving lives through better communications. Twenty odd years later a second lighthouse was constructed and the trail was greatly improved to act as a life saving route for shipwreck victims. As technology improved shipwrecks became a thing of the past and the trail was abandoned until 1973 when it became part of the newly established Pacific Rim National Park.

Today the 75 km trail is by far the most famous in Canada, often making an appearance on lists of the world’s best hiking trails.

Port Renfrew seems to brew it’s own weather, mostly of the oceanside misty, damp kind. Our tent is soaking wet in the morning, which we think is rain but turns out to just be ocean mist/fog that settles on everything. Amped to get hiking we amble into the ranger station and discover we’ll have to wait until the following day before we can begin. The number of hikers per day is limited and a reservation cost an extra $25 each so we thought we would just wing it. While we’re there we pay the hiking fee of $160 each and sit through the hour or so introduction which is useful, but really only makes us wish we were hiking today. We spend the day organizing gear, walking around town and drinking cheap coffee.
Camp for the night is beachside and free

Early the next morning we drop off my Jeep in a secure parking lot (for $18) and get a ride to the starting point – a ferry across Gordon River. Everyone is hugely entertained weighing their packs when we discover a set of scales hanging nearby. Mike at I ring in at 36 and 40 pounds respectively, which is 10 pounds lighter than the next nearest hiker. One guy about half my size has 62 pounds. Ouch. The other hikers are keen to talk about how long we’ve planned for the hike and are quite taken aback when we shrug our shoulders and grin our usual answer to such questions; “As long as it takes”.

Mike and Dan starting The West Coast Trail

Happy at my own pace, Mike quickly disappears into the misty fog that surrounds us. We’ve been told over and over the first 10 km we encounter are the hardest of the entire trail. Most people prefer to start at the other end and cover this ground on their last day when their packs are lighter – I am happy to tackle it while eager and fresh. Quickly I am in the thick of it; mud, tree roots, uphill, downhill, bridges and ladders and all of it very very slippery. It’s been one of the driest summers on record, so I can only imagine what it’s like in a rainy year. Passing people hiking in the opposite direction I notice how tired and muddy they all are, not to mention they all reek of campfire.

The scale of the trail...

By the time I catch up with Mike he has made a friend, Roger from the Netherlands who moves at a similar rapid pace. In many places along the trail we can choose between staying inland or hiking along beaches. We’ve been told over and over again to take the beach option whenever we can, so we head down a string of ladders to Thrasher Cove, our lunch stop.

Dropping down some stairs

Mike cooking lunch in the sun

Hiking around Owen Point requires the tides to be just right, so we wait a couple of hours in the amazing sunshine and head out right as the tide is going down. Some great rock-hopping is required and throughly enjoyed by all. Owen Point has beautiful colored rock formations and we stumble upon an alternate trail that has us use ropes to go up vertical rock and over the still too-high tide.

Mike in the rock formations at Owen Point

We follow the beach around, head inland for a few kilometers, use our first cable car with much calamity and arrive at Camper Bay, our stop for the night after 12 km.

Roger and Mike in a cable car

The number of people here is mind-blowing – I count 14 tents in view when we arrive, with more being set up by the minute. We bump into some people from our ferry earlier in the day, including the guy with 62 pounds. They hiked inland for the entire day and did not look like they were having any fun at all on the rooty, muddy trail.

Mike navigating the endless mud

The next day we have a stretch of inland hiking that has an impressive vertical drop of about six ladders immediately followed by six more straight back up.

Going up?

Navigating the one and only river crossing on the trail is disappointingly only a trickle that we walk straight across.

We love these high logs, called 'Nerve Testers'

Walking along the beach and rock shelf is a great way to finish the 16 km for the day at Carmanah Creek campsite. We quickly throw everything in our tents and start walking up Carmanah Creek, happy to be rid of our packs. Jeff from Seafun told us about the world’s largest sitka spruce tree, the Carmanah Giant which lies only a kilometer up the creek from the campsite. Rock-hopping with tired legs is hilarious and we all inevitably get a boot wet in the creek, laughing the whole time. The trunk of the giant is much much bigger than any other tree at 3 meters, and even though it’s right at river level, it towers over all the other trees growing higher up the valley wall.

The Carmanah Giant complete with tree hugger

Dan & Mike beach hiking

There is plenty more to come on this one…

-Dan

One sentence in Glenn Woodsworth’s Hot Springs of Western Canada seems to attract those keen for a hunt:

Recently rediscovered by hikers, but I don’t have details.

During my previous trip to the area with Mark, we tried to find the much rumored August Jacob’s Hot Spring. The spring is supposedly on Frank Creek, which is the only direction given. Our bushwhacking was futile against the high water in the creek and dense foliage surrounding it, so we gave up in less than two hours.

So the spring exists, the only question is finding it. Because of my recent success finding Deer River and Portage Brûlé Hot Spring, a very knowledgeable person shared information with me about the location of the spring.

Ever on the trail for more hot springs, Mike and I camp at Skookumchuck Hot Spring and enjoy many hours of soaking long into the starry night. (Not) early the next morning we drive out to the starting point and begin our hike, not knowing at all what to expect. Borrowing a GPS seemed like a good idea, although we quickly find it useless in the very dense trees – it just can’t pick up any satellites. Even in clearings when it can get enough satellites for a location lock, the elevation it reports is wildly inaccurate. Sometimes the elevation gained in just a few steps would register as a hundred feet or more. This, combined with our lack of preparation and detailed map leads to much backtracking and back-backtracking.

On more than one occasion we talk seriously about giving up; “are we giving up completely, or just on this part of the directions?” Being a little tired and irritable does not help the situation.

When the spring comes into view we are both elated, grinning from ear to ear. Mike is the first to ‘do the honors’ and yells “It’s hot!”, “Wow, It’s really hot!”.

Dan arriving at August Jacob's

The hot water cascades down a rock face about four meters into the creek below. The creek has carved quite a narrow rocky valley, making for a beautiful setting. A waterfall does it’s thing just a few meters away from the spring.

August Jacob's valley

My thermometer shows 49 °C when placed right at the top in the very source. Two main sources have solid flow rates and are that temperate, a few others nearby are more like small trickles and are cooler, probably around 30 °C.

August Jacob's Temperature - it was 49 up at the source

There are no soaking pools, and not a single sign of human presence here, so we leave the spring in it’s perfectly natural state. It would, however, be possible to build one or two rock pools fed with hot water and even channel in some cold from the waterfall.

The setting of August Jacob's - hot water spurting out of rock in foreground

I can’t help but wonder how long this will take when the directions become public knowledge…

August Jacob's Hot Spring

On the hike down we are beaming to have made it to the spring, a place that very few people have ever been.

Mike and Dan excited to be at August Jacob's

-Dan

As Mike and I stroll across the new bridge over Meager Creek, I can’t help thinking how easy it all is. We only walk the last 200 meters to arrive at the main soaking tubs. There are three main tubs, formed from concrete and lined with rocks. All are just above body temperature and within a degree or two of each other. Two are right down next to Meager Creek and another is set in a little, fed by a beautiful hot waterfall.

Dan & Mike at Meager Creek Hot Spring, finally!

During the 1970’s, exploration was carried out in the area in the hope of finding enough hot water to generate geothermal electricity. Evidence can be seen of the drilling carried out in the form of a geyser in the middle of a slimy, hardly used pool.

Geyser at Meager Creek caused by drilling

Hot or warm water seeps out of the ground for a couple of hundred meters in all directions.
Mike and I rock-hop upstream to the relatively unknown Placid Hot Spring. The spring has two main sources, both of which have a very good flow rate and although I forgot my thermometer, I put it in the 60˚C range. The water is clear and odorless.

Placid Hot Spring waterfall

Many smaller, cooler seeps feed slimy, murky pools and swampy grassy areas right along the bank of Meager Creek.

Placid Hot Spring pool

We return to Meager and have a fantastic soak, chatting to the many other people enjoying the spring.

Soaking at Meager Creek

-Dan

Portage Brûlé Hot Spring
up to 48 ˚C (118 ˚F)

These seldom visited springs are situated on the north shore of the Liard River about 3 kms (2 mi.) downstream from the mouth of the Coal River. Round-trip hiking time is around 4 hours and may be longer if the water level in the Liard is high.

Getting There
Coal River is 65 km North of Liard Hot Springs on the Alaska Highway. From the general store, drive 8.2 km (5 mi.) south on the Alaska Highway to a large pull-out with a big black sign. From here, walk or drive 1.3 km (1 mi.) north to a large culvert running down to the nearby Liard. Walk down the culvert to the Liard and hike about 2.5 km (1.6 mi.) upstream along the shoreline to the Portage Brûlé Rapids. 20 meters (60 ft.) before the rapids, rock cliffs will force you up onto the Portage trail which may be marked by flagging tape and is kept in useable condition by paddling enthusiasts. Continue along the trail which hugs the cliff edge for approx. 1.5 km (1 mi.) looking out for yellow colored limestone and tufa just above the waterline below. Hiking time from the highway to the springs is about 2 hours.

The shoreline of the Liard to hike

Portage Brûlé Rapids - the name gives you a clue to how much water is cranking through here

Portage trail with signs of humans on the left

Alternate Approach
When the Liard is running high, there is little to no bank in many places, making it impossible to reach the rapids. I’m told an overgrown trail exists from the end of the airstrip behind the Coal River general store to the springs. I don’t know how difficult the bush whacking is and I was told numerous times this area is very popular with bear sows and cubs.

The Springs
As many as 15 seeps issue from bedrock along about 300 meters (1000 ft.) of river bank between the Liard and a clay bank above. Many of the springs begin in large pools and have formed tufa terraces and mounds as they flow into the Liard. The best pool, formed from hardened tufa is about 3 meters (10 ft.) across by 1 meter (3 ft.) deep. Hot water (about 39 ˚C (102 ˚F)) swells up from the algae-covered bottom. Two nearby vents with good flow rates are 48 ˚C (118 ˚F). Many of the hottest springs were on the waterline so it’s very likely more were underwater at the time of my visit.
The spring water is colorless and odorless and gas bubbles from many of the springs.

Dan at Portage Brûlé Hot Spring

View upstream from the springs

View downstream from the springs

Portage Brûlé tufa mounds

Pools with a view

Comments
Beware of rock slides as you walk along the bank of the Liard, it’s very steep and doesn’t leave much room for error.

The hottest vent @ 48 deg. C

My, what lovely feet you have...

-Dan

Deer River Hot Springs, in my mind, is the pinnacle of remote hot springs in British Columbia, probably even all of Canada. Large, hot and so remote that it’s almost impossible to hike to. Almost. This spring is so remote that Glenn Woodsworth, the guy who literally wrote the book on hot springs in Canada has not been to them.

A few tantalizing snippets from his book, Hot Springs of Western Canada follow:

…they are seldom visited despite being large and hot…

…follow an old trail for about 16km up the Liard River… follow the Deer River for 13km upstream…

…people have become lost…

…the springs may have the largest total volume of all the springs in Canada…

No co-ordinates are given, and no pictures shown. I’m not sure if it’s the extremely brief details, the lure of “large and hot” or the possibility of the largest total volume in all of Canada – something about this spring draws in hot spring enthusiasts better than any other.

My friend Brett tried on four separate occasions, driving a total of more than 4000kms before actually reaching this spring. I could see the sense of achievement in his eyes and hear it in his voice – he spent a lot of time and effort on this one, and he got there. With his help I spent over a month planning, talking to locals, buying maps, doing google searches and planning some more before I made my attempt. For this reason I feel strongly about keeping my exact route to myself. If there is one hot spring out there that remains the ultimate challenge to find, I think it should be this one. I hope detailed directions are never published, every person should experience the adventure for themselves and they will come away felling like Brett and I – on top of the world.

If you ever plan on visiting the springs yourself, I mean seriously plan on visiting them, I urge you to not read any further. I go into quite a lot of detail about the landscape and have tons of photos mostly for those people that will never get the chance to visit themselves. I think you will enjoy the springs a lot more if they are as much a mystery to you as they were to me.
Stop now if you don’t want to spoil the mystery.

Safe to say there was an ungodly amount of bush whacking involved, so much so that I slumped down on the ground on two separate occasions completely ready to give up and turn around. I couldn’t help thinking that every step I took was a step further from civilization as well as another step I would have to take on the return trip. Falling in the frigid Deer River and getting soaked from head to toe did nothing to help my spirits – it would have been game over for this attempt if my down sleeping bag had gotten wet, luckily my dry bag held and I was able to continue.

Wow, just wow

Arriving at the springs was quite surreal, all my estimates said I still had a few kilometers to go, so I was quite taken aback and elated the hunt was over. The main pool was exactly as it had been described to me. About 10 meters across, a few meters deep and the most amazing shade of turquoise-blue that seemed to change every time the sun hit it from a different angle.

Pretty excited to have made it...

The book elusively reported the temperate as 32 or 42 degrees, so I was unsure of which to expect.
My thermometer showed spot on 32 after being underwater for a good 10 minutes.

Deer River Hot Springs temperature after 10 mins underwater

This large pool had water swelling and bubbling up from it’s centre, with a very high, deceiving rate of flow. In all of the following pictures, all of the water is coming from this one pool – which is a lot to put it mildly. The bottom of the pool was extremely fine sand or silt, and behaved quite like quicksand – a fine sand with water and gas moving up through it. After I stood in it for a few minutes my feet were completely gone and it was difficult to pull them out. The silt was so fine that walking on the bottom stirred up a huge mess that took a few minutes to settle.

Disturbing the silt by walking

The water flows from the main pool along a series of streams and cascades over 3 separate waterfalls into Deer River, which is really more like a creek at this point. The entire area is extremely beautiful, although I was surprised at the lack of rainforest-like greenery which was abundant on the sides of Deer River.

The hot streams from the main pool to the waterfalls

In an area like this there are many delicate organisms and plants so I had to be extremely careful where I was stepping. I also camped a few hundred meters away from the spring to give animals access to it during the night.

Cascading pools of hot water

Happily, it was almost impossible to tell if humans had ever been there before, I didn’t see a single piece of trash. There was a very small fire site, logs had been moved to form a crude circle and some trees had been cut down using saws. All of this seemed very old and took me a while to notice.

Sitting in the waterfall was amazing...

Same waterfall, showing the pools below

All afternoon I soaked, worked on my tan and soaked some more, thoroughly enjoying having the springs all to myself. Another unique aspect of this spring is the ability to swim – not just lie around or splash to and fro, I mean serious swimming. I’m not sure I’ve ever done that at a natural spring before.

Swimming around the big pool, disturbed silt in foreground

I couldn’t help but think about how these springs had been sitting here, bubbling away for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, and will continue to do so for a long time to come.

Bigger hot waterfall, going directly into Deer River

I didn’t see a single large critter the whole time I was out, a couple of times things crashed through the bushes ahead of me and in the middle of the night I heard a large hoofed animal walk right past my tent, probably a moose going to soak in the springs. Others I had spoken to descried the springs as ‘bear infested’, including some chopper pilots who said ‘Oh, that place. There are always too many bears around for us to land.’ I thought of these happy thoughts as I drifted off to sleep.

Steam in the morning sun

When it was time to leave I bush whacked a little further from the river looking for easier going and, lo and behold, about 500 meters south of the big pool I saw steam in the meadow, lots of steam. I had no idea there were more vents and was extremely excited at this development. Hot water literally flows out of the base of the hillside forming a river of it’s own. The major one I took a photo of had a flow rate greater than most hot springs I have been to.

The main hot vent with very high flow rate

This river was several hundred meters long and continued to pickup more water as it went, sometimes it was bubbling up from the bottom of pools, sometimes flowing out of muddy swamp-like areas. My thermometer at the ready I was eager to discover the 42 degree vent, but it was not to be. The vast majority of the vents were within a degree or maybe two of the big pool, the only outliers were significantly colder. This area of the meadow was still in shadow, accounting for all the ‘extra’ steam that I was so excited about.

The hot river with many vents along it

The flow rate in the big pool was already the highest I’ve ever seen in a natural spring, when combined with these other vents, I think it must be one of the highest in Canada, if not the highest.

An amazing trip & I’m certain I’ll go back one day.
Not soon, but one day.

-Dan

Brett and Eva live about 30 mins from Whitehorse in a beautiful house completely off-grid. Their whole setup includes a guest cabin, a river and creek flowing by, five dogs, two sheep, a mega vegetable garden, a wicked solar setup and running hot and cold water. Further down the road they have a cabin to “get away from it all” that I swear has been used in countless photos as the pinnacle of cabin living. There is no road access, so it’s a half hour hike or a trip across the lake in the freighter canoe. We loaded in the three of us, a ton of gear, five dogs and splashed our way across the whitecaps to the awaiting paradise.

Dan Freighter Canoe

It’s hard to describe how picturesque the the cabin is – it’s a beautiful hand made two story log cabin building tucked in between the lake and the mountains behind.

Approaching Cabin

The sun was beaming down and after getting a bunch of odd jobs finished up it was the most amazing feeling to sit on the deck unable to see or hear signs of people in any direction. I felt like we were 500 miles from anywhere with the entire place to ourselves.

The Cabin

A bald eagle was calling a near-by bluff home so I hiked over to have a closer look. I was about 10 meters from the enormous nest when I got my first good look – just as the eagle took full flight and powered away. Wow.

Bald Eagle

We’ve been doing a ton of things around the place and I have stacks of photos and stories yet to sort through and post online.

Hiking Behind Cabin

I think I’m on top of the recent down-time of my site, I’m still working out some glitches with my hosting and Wordpress/plugins in general.

Crazy Captan Brett

-Dan

Back in the day

Saturday morning I picked up my $53 USD permit and set out aiming for Sheep Camp, 11.8 miles (18.9kms) from the trailhead. The trail is initially costal rainforest winding it’s way up and down beside the Taiya river.  The Chilkoot has been used for around 700 years by the Tlingit Indians who gathered natural resources from the coast and packed it into the interior to trade with the indians there. About 8 miles (12.8kms) down the trail I arrived at Canyon City ruins, all that remains of a once bustling tent city that at one point had a population of 4,000.

Canyon City Ruins

Wandering around in the woods I found countless rusty tins, tools, broken glass and rotting building foundations – items all discarded when the city disappeared in less than a year.

There were a few of these suspension bridges

During the day I had been overtaking groups of hikers and it was slowly dawning on me just how popular the trail really is. When I arrived at Sheep Camp there were at least 30 people milling about the campsite – chatting, resting and cooking dinner. This is a very popular campsite as it’s the last on the US side and the best staging point for a push to the summit the following day. During the early stages of the stampede the Canadian Mounties (police) quickly realized the stampeders were completely unprepared for the hardships they would face in the Yukon – many had almost no gear and certainly no clue about wilderness travel and survival. The Mounties decided that each stampeder must have with him one ton of gear – enough to last a year in the Yukon. They chose a year as the time period because they figured it would take most people six months to give up, and six months to get back. Check the wikipedia article to see what was included in the ton of gear.

We had been warned that the following 8.7 mile (14.1km) day was a tough one and we should get moving early – on the trail no later than 6am we were told. Checkout the elevation profile of the trail to see how steep the push to the summit is. I don’t even have a watch so I wasn’t at all surprised to find I was one of the last in camp when I crawled out of my tent

Chilkoot Trail Plaque

I was pleasantly surprised how quickly I arrived at the base of “The Golden Stairs” – the scene of the countless famous photos I had seen in the north. In order to move a ton of gear over the trail, each stampeder had to make many passes, slowly shuffling their gear further and further along. Most hiked the trail 40 to 50 times with between 50 and 150 lbs (25 – 70kgs) each trip and would wind up hiking over a thousand miles (1600km). It was here at the base of the stairs that many stampeders simply gave up and turned around, leaving their ton of gear to decay where it sat. The ground was littered with all manner of artifacts, including remnants of the aerial tramways that were constructed to haul gear to the top.

View from scales

Although I couldn’t see very far in front of me, I was very happy to push hard up the very steep rock scramble – without a doubt the steepest pitch I have ever hiked with a full pack. About 20 minutes had me at the plaque commemorating the trail, 5 more had me across the surprisingly unmarked border into Canada and 5 more saw me sitting in the summit shelter cooking a hot lunch. It’s not every day you get to hike across the border from the US into Canada and we were all grinning at the idea.

The Golden Staircase

We lingered in the cabin, chatting to the friendly ranger and delaying the inevitable return to the now snow covered, windy trail.

Chilkoot Trail Summit

As I descended down into a narrow valley on the Canadian side the trail changed once again. Now completely in the alpine and very snow covered a tricky blend of walking and sliding across the fall line was needed. A couple of times the clouds parted long enough for me to realize that if I was to slide directly down the steep fall line, I would wind up taking a dip in the large, blue and undoubtedly cold Crater Lake. It continued like this for the rest of the day, slowly loosing elevation and being less and less snow covered as I went. The end of the day saw almost everyone camp at “Happy Camp” – a tightly packed, windy spot. It was raining now and quite cold, which left us pondering the name – we all got a laugh when a fellow hiker concluded “This is where happiness goes to die”.

Crater Lake

It was still raining in the morning so I quickly shoved everything away wet, inhaled some hot oats and got on the trail hoping to get away from the weather as I hiked further down the valley. The amount of water on and around the trail was amazing – massive lakes were being fed by countless fast flowing snow-melt streams. Each time a crossing was required I carefully hunted up and downstream, being extra careful to keep my feet warm and dry. The trail wound on and on in this manner past Deep Lake campground, then Lake Lindeman where I stopped for lunch and onto my campsite for the night, Bare Loon Lake 8.5 miles (13.7kms) from Happy Camp. Bare Loon campsite had 15 or so tent pads placed on a hill-side that each had an amazing view of the lake. The sun managed to come out briefly and a little bit of wind helped to dry me and my gear completely – such a nice feeling to be warm and dry and I feel sound asleep as soon as I lay down.

The Chilkoot winds on and on

The Chilkoot Trail ends at Bennett, where the stampeders had to build some kind of boat and float down the mighty Yukon River to Dawson City. Of course, few had ever built a boat and tried to “Huck Finn” it down the Yukon on little more than a couple of logs lashed together. Seeing the disaster before it happened, the Mounties quickly stepped in to make sure the newly constructed craft were river worthy – they had to have a certain number of planks above the water line and they had to be capable of steering in some way. The Mounties actually setup an obstacle course that had to be navigated before would-be boaters could leave Lake Bennett and get onto the Yukon River.

Knowing I had a short day I let myself have a lazy start and soon came to the “cut-off” trail – a small windy path that leads to the railway line. Most people that need to return south to Skagway pay $60 USD for a ride on the White Pass Train. I chose to take the slightly less legally correct option of hiking along the railway line until I met the highway where I would hitchhike back to town. As luck would have it I caught up to Murray and his son Steve on the tracks who were driving to the trailhead to collect their second vehicle. Of the 100,000 stampeders that arrived on the shores of Dyea and Skagway, somewhere around 30% actually made it to Dawson City and started looking for gold. Of those 30,000 prospectors, less than 1% actually found gold. It wasn’t required, but I’m sure it helped to be crazy.

White pass train

While the lack of visibility at the summit detracted a little from the hike, I still had a fantastic time and highly recommend The Chilkoot to anyone with a passion for the outdoors, especially anyone with an interest in gold rush history.
A big thanks to Scott for suggesting the trail a couple of months ago.

-Dan

I’d just arrived back from kayaking and was wandering the main street of Valdez when Thomas and Roland drove up. Neither of us had any idea we were going to be there and it was fantastic to see friends again. We ended up hanging out for three days, laughing at planning new adventures the whole time.

Bridal Viel Falls HDR

We chatted to some locals who were cleaning their Halibut down on the pier and one of them gave us a huge slab of the fish he was cleaning. He was just about to throw it out, so didn’t mind giving it to us. Thomas and I were over the moon as we cut it into enormous chunks and cooked it up with plenty of lemon juice and butter. Too add to that, my kayaking guide Jay left me a 12 pack of my favorite beer in the jeep and a note wishing me safe travels.
As Thomas pointed out, I don’t need a million dollars, just a couple of good friends and good times.

Thomas Dan & Roland in Valdez

We went for a hike up behind Valdez and had an awesome view when the morning clouds burnt off:

The view of Valdez when the morning cloud lifted

I’ve been trying to get photos of the wildflowers for a while now – they are everywhere:

Alaskan wildflowers are everywhere

On our way out of Valdez we went for a hike up Worthington glacier all the way up to the dome visible above my head in this photo:

Dan and Worthington glacier

A few weeks back I adjusted quickly to the very long days and even the endless days. Now that I’m moving south, twilight begins at about midnight and a headlamp is almost needed from 2am until about 3.30am – I’m really struggling to get used to this and I much prefer the endless sunshine

Hiking Worthington glacier

-Dan

Denali Winding Road

Riding the bus did seem like a very good way to see a whole lot of wildlife for absolute minimal effort, but it just wasn’t my scene. I drove 15 miles into the park, where the public road ends and found a nice mountain to hike up. The one strange thing about Denali is they actively encourage you to go anywhere you like. “There’s no path there, but you can just bush whack up”.

Mountain top in Denali

There are many fires blazing across Alaska right now and some of the largest are just north and west of Denali – this means the entire region is covered in a smokey haze that hides all the mountains. I did get a decent view of McKinley a couple of times, but the camera couldn’t see it.

Poser

I drove south, through Anchorage heading for the small fishing community of Seward. The drive down was absolutely amazing with the road hugging the ocean on one side and snow and glacier capped peaks on the other. The haze had followed me though, so photos didn’t work out. I was on a hiking binge so couldn’t pass up an opportunity to hike up Exit Glacier which leads up to an enormous ice field.

Exit Glacier

Hiking To Exit Glacier

The hike was great and I spotted a Grizzly Sow and cub playing in the sun about 50 meters away across a gully – it was really cool to watch them meander along without a care in the world.

Grizzly Sow & Cub

The town of Seward was pretty cool too – it was a genuine fishing port with everyone running around the docks dealing with the ships that had just arrived in the late afternoon. The waterfront reminded me of countless little coastal towns in Australia, the smell of the ocean and fish, the sounds of sea gulls, the fishing boats – except of course the ever present towering snow-capped mountains

Seward Harbor

I found my way to a little waterfall near the convergence of the Russian and Kenai rivers where salmon congregate as they try to make their way upstream to spawn. I was making lots of noise clapping and yelling but somehow I still managed to almost walk into a grizzly sow and her two cubs down by the river. About eight meters separated us – much too close for comfort – as I started to back away slowly. When she realized I was there she was more than happy to walk away, as was I. Lucky.
Hiking the 2.3 miles back in the very dim light I jumped at every shadow and sound in the woods.

Shooting fish in a barrel?

The next morning I parked myself at the falls with a book and comfy chair hoping to catch sight of a bear fishing, this time from a much safer vantage point. While no bears came around that day, I did chat to some locals who had special fishing allowances because they need the fish purely for food. They scooped out the salmon in nets and proceeded to filet them right there on the shore of the river – I’ve never seen fish that color before, it was really cool.

Fresh slamon fillet

As you might have guessed, this was a very popular fishing spot.

Salmon Fishing

Alaska continues to enthrall me.

-Dan

The Stampede Trail is fifty miles of rough, overgrown mining road that was abandoned in 1963. No bridges were ever constructed over the several rivers it crosses so it is primarily used by backcountry travelers on foot, bicycle, snow machine and motorcycle. The now infamous Fairbanks City Transit bus #142 was left behind by the Yutan Construction Company during the road building to serve as a backcountry shelter for hunters, trappers and ranger patrols.

Typical conditions on the Stampede Trail

I met two cool Austrian characters, Thomas and (roll the ‘R’) Roland on the Dalton Highway and it took all of 10 seconds to convince them to join me on a trip to ‘The Bus’. We were able to drive about 12.5 miles down Stampede Road before we had to leave the vehicles behind and continue on foot. The first hour and a half of hiking the next morning saw us travel on a really good quad trail, through some small swaps, through a couple of shin-deep river crossings and spat us out at the edge of the Teklinika River.

Ultimately, the ‘Tek’ was Chris’ downfall when he was unable to cross it and return to civilization, forcing him back to the bus. Although it was not the raging torrent Emile Hirsch faced in the movie, it was obvious we would be swept off our feet and downstream if we did not keep our heads about us.

We ummmed and arrred for quite a while and wandered upstream, where we had been told the river was wider and shallower. Once we got sick of our aimless wandering, Thomas picked a spot and after throwing in rocks and using sticks to measure the depth we all agreed it was our best chance. We tentatively forded one at a time, with our packs un-buckled so we could ditch them if we were to get swept in. It’s a shame you can’t see my face in any of the photos – I was more than a bit scared when it reached mid-thigh in depth and began to really push hard. Slow and steady won through and I was relieved to be on the other side. Roland came powering across like he was on a mission and in a voice that was too much Arnie to be true beamed “Bah, dat was easy”.

Crossing the mighty Teklinika River

Thomas and Roland are fitness machines and once we were back on the trail I was quickly left in their dust, alone with my thoughts. Chris must have felt such a sense of isolation and awe to be all the way out here, alone, not knowing if there was anything or anyone ahead. At times I yelled into the alder and clapped my hands, trying to avoid startling any neighborhood bears. At times I sang aloud and at times I was silently reflecting – I was actually going to the bus, the bus that Chris had spent four months living in, was essentially trapped in and finally died in. Wow.

When bus 142 appeared on the side of the trail, seemingly out of thin air I was quite startled. I’d been hiking on my own for 10 miles but somehow wasn’t ready to be there yet. I paused on the edge of the clearing for a moment, then again in the doorway, trying to take everything in. Even though I’d never been there before, it was very familiar – from the description in the book, the movie and also from the pictures I’ve seen online.

The front of The Magic Bus

I thought The Magic Bus would be a quiet, sad place to spend time – I was quite surprised to find the opposite was the case.

The stove and bed of The Magic Bus

It’s customary for visitors to inscribe their name on the wall of the bus and write a message in the “Guest Book” – a book placed in the bus by Chris’ sister Carine. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of exhilarating messages from people all over the world who had made the trek out to the bus. People wrote about how upon hearing Chris’ story they changed their lives so they could live their dreams, people wrote of hitching thousands of miles to be there, people wrote about how beautiful of a place Chris had found. Graffiti like ‘Solo trek to honor Chris’ and ‘Swept downstream by Tek, it was worth it’ made me grin from ear to ear – Chris has inspired thousands of people and and I was thrilled to be a part of that.

Jon Krakauer's message in the book

My message in the Guest Book captures my feelings:

You have inspired more people than you will ever know, not least of all me.
Your passion, courage and determination gave me the strength to believe I really can make my dreams come true.
And here I am, in Alaska, having been to the Arctic Ocean, on my way to South America.
Thankyou Chris.

Christopher McCandless Plaque

I spent many quiet hours in the bus, reading the walls and the many guest books.
Although I hunted high and low I could not find any writing from Chris himself – it seems they have all faded away over the years.

A quote by Thoreau on The Magic Bus

It was truly and amazing experience and all three of us couldn’t stop grinning and talking of adventures to come the entire hike back.

Roland Dan & Thomas at The Magic Bus

My hair is all wrong and my beard is not nearly long enough, but you get the idea:

Dan at The Magic Bus

-Dan

If you’ve just stumbled onto my site, I encourage you to have a look around and read more about my ongoing adventure from Alaska to Argentina.

Of course, I hiked to the top of the first mountain I could find, which happened to be at the highest point of the Highway at 1295 meters (4,248 feet). The highway here was cutting through the northern-most ranges in the Canadian Rockies – I have no idea what lies further north.

Love those mountains

I’d also been wondering if I was going to see any wildlife on this highway, when again out of nowhere it all fell into my lap. I saw a cow moose and her two calves trying to cross the road, two young black bears playing together, tons of deer and caribou, lots of buffalo (damn they are big) and finally the little guy in the photo below.

Little guy on the side of the road

Knowing that a bunch of hot springs are coming up, I’ve been gathering information as best I can. Some are very well known about and I’ll go to for sure, others – “good luck”. I passed through Toad Creek today which has a hot spring about 10km hike away. After talking to the locals I ended up giving it a miss for two main reasons – it’s a smelly lukewarm mud pit at best and the logging road is on the wrong side of the river which is way to high to cross.

Don’t worry though, I’m pretty sure my next update will have more hot water than… umm… well lots of it anyway.

-Dan

Dan and Jeep

On the front page

The Sunraysia Daily Article

-Dan

Fast forward to last Monday, Duke calls me up, says he’s on a road trip and will be in Banff tonight. Tonight. In Banff. An hour away. I raced out there as soon as I could, grinning the whole way.

Sitting on a bench waiting for him I was a little worried I wouldn’t recognize him, or we wouldn’t be friends anymore or… bah – what crap. The second I saw him I knew it was on again. It was pretty damn obvious he’d been on a roadie for a month and man was I jealous – he’d just driven his $800 truck from Jackson Hole, Wyoming over to Portland, then up through Washington to Whistler. From there he drove East through central BC, Revelstoke and now Banff. Living out of his truck the whole time with his dog Simba added a lot of character to the trip.

We both had so much to say and were smiling from ear to ear the entire night of bar hopping around Banff. Not wanting to pay for a place to crash we found ourselves a quiet spot up behind Banff where I crashed in a tent and Duke and Simba in his truck.
Man that was a fun night.

Over the next five days we didn’t stop. A round of disc at the Canmore course was awesome, followed by hiking up Heart Mountain. It was just a little windy (read insanely) and snowing pretty hard at the top but we loved it all the same. We bypassed the fence at Park 96, Calgary’s private disc golf course for a sweet round with a local character who just a month earlier had quite accidentally dropped a cliff at Lake Louise to the tune of a severely broken arm and leg. He was super proud to tell us he was now a celebrity around those parts, as he had skied down by himself to ski patrol. It was great to see him out so soon.

Every night of the week found us at a different bar, chatting it up with a different group of random people. Papa Roach are my favourite band and they were in town on Thursday night, which Duke knew we had to get to. A few beers down we arrived just in time to watch everyone stream out – not that it mattered, there were plenty of bars on 17th that had cold beer for us. Every day at work was a gong show, which led to a couple of choice quotes. A friend at work was commenting; “Dan’s been looking a little frazzled these last couple of days” and by Duke seeing me on Thursday afternoon: “You’re going home for a nap before we go out again”.  Haha.

It was an awesome week of laughing and smiling – which only made us want to catch up sooner rather than later.

Duke’s summary was pretty fitting: “Danno, there’s no way we could live together. Within a week one of us would have alcohol poising and the other would be in jail”. Sounds like fun to me.

-Dan

Duke Dan and Simba

Dropping into the pow on Black Queen

Sunday saw us at Red Mountain for their last day of the season and what a day it was. The sun was beaming down and we rode every minute possible. The snow was so soft we were heroes – every cliff and rock band was carefully eyed up and dropped many times. I claimed the biggest wipe out of the day with a HUGE cartwheeling fall over a big big floating booter we had eyed all day long. The dummy downhill and a crazy party raged on the deck all afternoon. There was lots of laughter.

Lifting Off

During the week Whitewater was closed so we planned tons of other stuff. We drove up to the resort, grabbed snowshoes and avalanche gear and hiked up behind the Silver King chair to a peak called Snow Queen. On the way up there was a ton of helicoper action – we really had no idea what was going on. It turned out that a rescue had gone wrong a few days earlier and the main rotor had clipped a tree. The chopper managed a landing, but was stranded. Tons of guys were working on it, removing the rotor blades and trimming weight.

How does one move a stranded chopper? with another chopper of course. We stared in awe from 50meters back while they lifted the stricken chopper with another that was only slightly larger. For a while it looked like it couldn’t lift the weight, but after some hesitation it lifted off and glided down to the flat bed truck waiting in the car park. A pretty cool show all in all.

We did a quick lap on the back side (Black Queen) with some really good pow before heading down the front side (White Queen) which was super sun affected and sticky like quicksand. Mike and Steve had the urge to try some flips off the edge of a cat-track. Funny stuff.

Steve is a pretty mad downhill mountain biker, so I rented a tricked out Giant bike and away we went. A short hike up behind Nelson had us at the top of a run called “Psychedelic Insane Goat” (or something) – it was a blue run, but it was the steepest thing I’d ever ridden on a bike. It had tons of log and rock drops as well as “stunts” – those man-made wooden things to ride along that are purpose built to inflict maximum injury.
We walked around all of those.

Nelson in the background

We pushed our bikes up a logging road looking for more trails to ride. They turned out to be too heavily covered in snow, so we careered down the road at breakneck speed.

Walking up the logging road

Thursday night was a full moon, so Mike and I hiked up to the ridge at the top of Whitewater just as the sun was setting. A bunch of people were camping the night so we hung out with them for a few hours before riding down under the moonlight. Well, that was the theory anyway. The moon was not very high in the sky at the time, so we rode down under dark light. It was crazy but really fun.
Later in the week saw us playing disc golf at a pitch and putt locals course in Wymer. Running around in shorts and flip-flops again was amazing. A bunch of us also hiked up to Pulpit Rock which overlooks Nelson from the other side of the lake. Beautiful views were enjoyed for a long time.

Nelson from Pulpit Rock

Ever since growing my hair out I’d wanted to get Dreadlocks and what better town than Nelson. We wandered around town chatting it up and found a girl who would give me dreads. Three and a half hours later they were finished and I was stoked. I was amazed how they were already so dread-like. I had been thinking they would look more like braids for a few weeks/months before dreading properly. Not so. I didn’t stop talking about them for… well… I’m still talking about them.
They are going to be a lot more work than I first thought, but I think it’s worth it.

New dreadlocks

A stop off at Whiteswan hot spring on the drive home rounded off another fantastic trip out to Nelson.

-Dan

Dhyåna was what this boat was all about. It’s what Phåedrus had bought it for, a place to be alone and quiet and inconspicuous and able to settle down into himself and be what he really wanted and not what he was thought to be or supposed to be. That’s what the purpose of boats like this had always been… and seaside cottages too … and lake cabins … and hiking trails … and disc golf … and hot springs … It’s the need for dhyåna that is behind all these.

OK, so I added disc golf and hot springs – but you get the idea.

-Dan

Soaking at Fairmont

We quickly found ourselves at Fairmont Hot Springs for a soak – but of course not in the paying area. A very short walk up the hill from the “resort” has you at the source of the springs which has a few soak-worthy pools. We soaked for a good hour, enjoying the view and chatting to people passing through.

We had decided to camp at Buhl Creek Hot Springs that night, so set out as it was getting dark. Navigating the logging roads was easy seeings I had been there before. When we arrived, there was nobody around but the campfire on the bluff was still lit. A little strange, but we didn’t let it go to waste and camped right next to it. We also used the Jeep to transport some firewood.

Firewood Transport

It turns out the pools at Buhl Creek are very close to body temperature, so at this time of year they were not warm enough for a night time soak. We racked our brains for a way to heat it up and tried pretty much everything we could think of. In the end, we heated up about 10 rocks in the fire until they were red hot then cicked them down the hill into a nice pool. Success! the perfect temperature for an hour soak late at night.

In the morning Mike slept in while Dan had another good hour soak. We headed out to Cranbrook where we grabbed lunch and played 18 holes at the local disc golf course. A very rugged course, much like Canmore. In the end Mike won by one stroke – great game.

Campsite At Buhl Creek

We wanted to spend some time wandering around Kimberley to assess the likelihood that Mike would live/work there for the winter. We started out with the mandatory beer in the pub before wandering the streets talking to everyone along the way. It’s a great little town with really friendly, down-to-earth people. It felt very warm and community minded from the minute we got there. As night fell we needed somewhere to camp – I suggested somewhere along the road to Superlative, so we headed out.

Snow on the tent

We’d been going about 20 minutes I suppose when we seriously thought about camping in the Superlative car park for the night and day-hiking in the next day. Mike had been with me when we first read about Superlative and we had talked together about it ever since. It had to be done. 20 minutes later we drove back into town, got gas and supplies, then drove back out to Superlative. The road again was very good and started getting quite snowy about 2/3 of the way up. By then end it was full snow, not a glimpse of a road. This actually made the going a little easier because the snow fills in the pot holes.

Hiking Dewar Creek

We camped that night at the parking lot which looked a lot different than last time I was there. Neither of us had ever camped in/on the snow before and we were both as happy as, well, two guys camping in the snow. It snowed a couple of centimeters overnight and we were pretty stoked to see snow on the tent!

Bugle Basin Campground

We knew we had a long way to go the next day, so we got up and moving down the trail. I was a little worried it would be so snowed over we wouldn’t find our way – but it turned out to be fine. Based on the trail and my memory, we didn’t make a single wrong turn. At the start there was around 10cm of snow, towards the end it was more like 25cm. It snowed hard all day. The fact that winter was coming really hit us hard – we were working in shin deep perfect powder, why didn’t we bring our boards!

Dewar Creek Hot Spring

The difference in the campsite and Hot Springs was amazing, black and white, night and day. Just as beautiful, just totally different. We soaked for a good hour in the tub while it snowed very hard around us. This was probably the most relaxing soak of my life – by the side of a river in the middle of nowhere with no body else around in heavy snowfall. Unreal.

Boots after hiking

After what felt like forever we geared up and made the hike back to the Jeep. Driving down was fine, even with the ~30cm of snow on the road. There was one close call with an on-coming truck towing a horse trailer. It really didn’t look like he was going to stop and we must have stopped about a foot apart. Live and learn or something like that I think is appropriate.

Another huge, huge weekend full of Hot Springs, Disc Golf, Fun & Smiles.

-Dan

Hiking the trail

The Road Down

.

We got a nice early start so we could drop Brendan’s car near Canmore. We all piled into Kevin’s and ripped back to Hwy 40 then into the Nakiska parking lot. We knew we had to go hard if we were going to get up and over before the day was done. We went up, then up then for a change it was up some more. At the lunch stop were a bunch of “obelisks” of stone just randomly stuck on the top of a mountain, crazy beautiful. After lunch we pushed hard to the summit where it started snowing and was unpleasant pretty quickly.

We didn’t stay long and started the long walk down. We started out winding down the side of the mountains, dropping elevation fast until we were on what was essentially a logging road. From here Amy lead the charge as we pushed on to the car. 20kms all up and a ton of elevation change.

Fantastic

A whole crew of us packed up and headed out to Larch Valley. This is a really popular hike just near Lake Louise. A Larch is a tree that looks like a pine tree (has needles) but it’s deciduous, so in the fall the colours are amazing.

There were a lot of people on the trail, but that made the event all the more social. We all were amazed upon seeing our first Larch, only to see more and more until they were every single tree. Once we’d made the valley we had to hike the last bit up to the pass. Lots of vertical here, but well worth it. One of the slopes on the far side was avalanching every few minutes. We could see the snow slide long before we got the very loud deep rumble. Impressive. I also got to grab the first fresh snow of the season – a very very thin dusting sitting in the shade. All of us were amazed at the number of children less than 5 or so on the trail – they were all loving it, just like we were.

Superlative:
Adjective
1.  Of the highest order, quality, or degree; surpassing or superior to all others.
Noun
1.  Something of the highest possible excellence.

I’d talked so much about this spring that it was easy to convince a bunch of people to come. We ended up with Kevin, Amy, Ally, Ty, Vaughan, Brendan and myself. So the plan was set.

We left the city around 5.30pm, and after a not-so-quick dinner stop in Canmore, we made it to Kimberley around midnight. There was some talk of staying there the night, but after meeting up with Ally and Ty, we pushed on the remaining 65kms to the end of the logging roads. The road was excellent until about the last 5kms when it just got worse and worse, until the last 500meters was more a rock scramble than a road. We made the parking lot at 2am, set up our tents and fell into bed.

A not so early 9am start was plenty enough, we were all jumping out of our skin with excitement. We ate, packed up and were on the trail around 10.30. My book said it was about 9kms in, through very over-grown brush. I had seen photos of some very deep river crossings, so I really had no idea what to expect. The trail turned out to be great, quite muddy and churned up from horses in places – but still very manageable. After a few rest stops we arrived at the spring around midday on the most beautiful blue sky day imaginable. The campsite was much more scenic that I could have imagined, and we spent a ton of time sunning ourselves in the late afternoon.

The layout was amazing, with the campsite “Bugle Basin” about 5 mins past the spring. To get to the spring, we dropped quite a lot of elevation straight down to the river. Hot water bubbles out of cracks under the cliffs for a couple of hundred meters along the river bank. The water was up to 85degC – much much too hot to keep your hand in. The soaking challenge was actually getting the hot mixed with some cold at just the right ratio. There were really only 3 tubs that were usable for soaking. A sign indicated that rangers had demolished other tubs to lesson the environmental impact to the area. Fair enough.

We soaked in the main tub for an hour or so, then went exploring. Building our own river-side tubs was never going to be a success, so we just kept exploring, finding all the hot water we could. Vaughan and I finally found a tub at the base of the cliffs that was very small and very difficult to get the right temperature. We decided pre-mixing of the water was the key. A late night soak was a must, and the entire area was engulfed in steam – the moon rise topped it all off. The night was cold, but everyone survived OK.

Vaughan and I were up early for a soak to be greeted by a really thick frost. A mad dash to the spring was well worth it. After breakfast we all geared up for the return hike which was a little quicker and easier. Eating smokies and throwing the Frisbee on the green grass in the sun was a highlight for sure. We rolled back into the city around 11pm making for a huge weekend.

Was it superlative I hear you ask? The soaking experience – maybe not. But the entire package; the location, the forest, the campsite, the sheer size of the spring, etc, etc.

Yep. The Superlative of springs.

Day one we went for a good hike up to a little cabin the woods. It’s maintained by volunteers and has everything you need to stay a few nights in the mountains. In the distance, Mt. Robson(2,829 m) – the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies was dominating.

On day two we went for a huge drive along the East side of Kinbasket Lake. None of us wanted to turn back so it ended up being a many hour drive.

Last summer I drove down the West side looking for Kinbasket Lake Hot Springs, but they were covered in many meters of water.

The road up was much worse than it was in winter. Potholes were a-plenty and about 20 cm deep. I started to dobut the likelihood of a sedan making it up there. I spent the first afternoon & evening at Ram, soaking my heart out. A few people came and went but I was the only person staying up there.

In the morning, it was time to hunt down Mutton Creek Hotspring. This spring is mentioned in the Geothermal Resources of BC report and so is also mentioned in Glenn Woodswoth’s book “Hotsprings Of Western Canada”. I found nothing on the ‘net so went out with not much to go on.

So, looking at the Geothermal Resources of BC report, the co-ordinates given are 50 00.000N 155 40.000 W. Now, immediately, there is a problem here. 155 W is not even in BC.. maybe a typo? maybe something else.
Estimating from where the dot is placed on the map, I get 50 00.000N 115 41.000 W (notice 115, not 155)
These co-ordinates are about 1.6km north of the Ram Creek road, and about 1.2 km SE of Larsen Lake.
Interesting, this is not even close to the “Mutton Creek” that is passed Lussier Hot Spring.

So I headed out looking for these co-ordinates. Not far up the Ram Creek road, there is a pull-out on the left, that goes down to a locked gate, with “Private” marked on it. I didn’t go further, but the old old road seems to wind it’s way down into the lush green valley, directly towards Larsen Lake. Farm land is down there. There is a name on the gate, so it’s a possibility to call the owner to ask about any knowledge of a spring, or even if they’d mind us wandering around on their property. I’m starting to doubt the spring is there, but who knows.

Onto day two, and I started hiking up the Mutton Creek that is about 1km east of Lussier. There is an excellent logging road following the creek, although it’s gated. I have also seen cars parked in front of this gate in the past. I didn’t get far up at all (maybe 1km) when I ran into a medium black bear. He ran off, but I thought about it for a while and turned back. I decided not to push my luck.
On reporting this to the ranger near-by we got into a chat about the spring, and she was really keen to hear what I knew. She’d definitely heard of a rumor of a spring on Mutton Creek, and knew plenty of people that had looked for it. Supposedly the “old timers” of the area knew of the rumor. Her brother-in-law (or something) had also spent a good amount of time looking for it.
Nobody has ever found it, as far as she knew.
At that time, we both suggested that maybe it’s on Mutton creek, south of the road. It hadn’t even occurred to me to look there, so maybe others have overlooked it too. Mutton creek continues for about 800m south of the road before flowing into Lussier River. Hmmm.

After all this effort I had a nice long soak in Lussier River Hot Spring – always a favourite even though it can sometimes be too busy.

I met a really cool German backpacker, Marcel, who I gave a ride all the way back to Canmore. We talked endlessly about travelling, meeting people and generally having fun. An awesome sunny day driving around with no roof.

I’ll let the pictures do the talking – safe to say it was amazing.

I picked up Brendan from Emerald Lake and we headed down to Buhl Creek. I’d never been to this spring before, so I was pretty excited.

As always, the directions in the book were 100% spot on, and we found the place all to ourselves. The camp ground, a beautiful green clearing, is about 150meters from the spring, which is on the side of a creek. A storm rolled in late in the afternoon. It gave spectacular skies and very little rain. NICE.

We soaked in the evening, cooked on the open fire then soaked some more. Early in the morning I was soaking once again.

We didn’t see another person for our whole stay. A+ soaking.

We didn’t have much planned except for Mist Mountain Warm Springs on the Saturday. I’d been there last year, but I hiked in the loooong way. Going the normal way was still a tough slog.

About an hour of pretty solid uphil through trees before we broke treeline and had a beautiful view of Mist Mountain and the area. Looking across the valley we could actually see the spring from here (brown smudge just at green-line), but it was still a good 45minute traverse away.

The spring  and the hike were just as beautiful as I remembered.

A great soak on a great sunny day.

Highlights include:

• The view from the top.
• The sheer face and straight-down drop.
• The little critter who was not afraid at all.
• Sliding down the scree on the way down.
• Vaughan’s brother running as fast as physically possible down the scree.

The plan was to hit as many hotsprings as possible – some easy to find. Some not so easy.

I started with Upper Halfway river. The book basically said “good luck”, leaving me with not much to go on. I did have some posts from the ‘net, so armed with those, I drove for about 20km up a logging road, on about a 35degree day. I found some flagging tape on the side of the raod, and thought I was there. A short hike down to the river and I found no bridge. I was clearly in the wrong place.

Not easilly deterred, I decided to wade across the river. That was never going to happen, so I back-tracked and go out of theere. The GPS I borrowed off Ryan showed I was only a few hundred meters away from the sping. Damn close.

I camped the night at Halfway River Hotsings – much easier to find and an A+ soak.

In the morning I was super-keen to actually get to Upper Halfway, so I teamed up with some others who had heard of it. We again drove out the logging road, but this time we found the right pull-out and were clearly in the right place. Not far from the road was a bridge the size of which meant it was never going to be washed away. We hiked for around 30mins, most of which through very overgrown brush and straight up-hill. Success. We found the srping and had a great soak.

After heading down to Nakusp, I had a flat on trusty Jeepadoor. That, and the general fatigue led me to camp near town in a campground.

I was up early, on the hunt for Octopus Creek hotspring. I drove down to Fauquier, then continued south on logging roads to the Octopus Creek Recreation site. I drove Jeepadoor as far up the old logging road as I could, then hiked from there. I had to thrash down to the creek (which was very very steep), and walked up the creek for another about 1km. I followd lots of orange flagging tape.

When I got to the river, the water was very high and I had to wade across about 12 times on my way upstream. Luckily it was pretty warm, and I got used to the cold pretty quickly.

Each and every time I was scared.

The canyon was very tight without any other options. At one point I found a fire pit, and further up a big length of black plastic pipe, like you find at all the hot springs in the area. The farther I went, the less and less flag tape I saw, until there was none. I was going very slowly with all the rock hopping and crossings and I was exhausted from all the crossings, so I turned back. Ryan’s GPS said I was still about 1200m short of the springs, but I’m really keen to try again sometime.

I drove on, and made it all the way to Crawford Bay, ready for another hunt in the morning.

Talking to the locals in the morning, I felt the standard “We don’t  want you to find our hot spring” attitude. I pressed on anyway. After hiking around aimlessly for a while, I ended up meeting a local guy “Russ”, who had all the answers. It turns out his friend has been doing aerial surveys for a local resort, looking for hot springs (Dan’s dream job, BTW). Finding Crawford Bay warm springs was a snap after that. Not hot hot, but a really refreshing soak, once again all to myself.

I checked out Fording Mountain Hot spring on the way through Fernie, which the local have dubbed Sulfer Springs. Now I know why.

A fantastic roadie, with some success and some lessons for next time.