Edziza: Return to the Orange Bowl
August 10 - 17, 2023
Henning and I had completed all the known hiking routes in Edziza Provincial Park. Yet we yearned to return. How could we experience the spectacular Orange Bowl (name we coined in relation to the steep-sided bowl of the Spectrum Traverse that is surrounded by radiant orange peaks) one more time without trekking in from Little Ball Lake and undertaking the arduous and challenging Traverse again? And so we conceived a trek in and out from Mowdade Lake with a side-trip to Coffee Crater and the lava fields, which we’d previously traversed in nasty weather (see Buckley to Mowdade 2018 trip). Two friends, Ann and Tanis, had long wanted to visit Edziza and were delighted to join us on our venture. Unfortunately, the weather Gods were far from cooperative, testing our spirit and hardiness (and causing us to shorten our route), but the wild, rugged and indescribable beauty of Edziza captivated me once again.
We departed New Westminster August 7 and camped at Ten Mile Lake campground (just outside of Quesnel), where we met up with Ann and Tanis. Once past Quesnel, I noted a considerable number of 3-trailer logging trucks. I counted 40 of these extra-long trucks between Prince George and Smithers! It seems the B.C. forest industry is logging fast and furious in anticipation of sweeping changes to large scale deforestation. Those changes can’t come soon enough. I also saw some annoying highway signs. “God keep this land glorious and free” is undoubtedly a result of the 2022 Freedom Convoy. I was surprised to google that this line is still in the Canadian anthem. “Want to know the truth about Covid vaccines?” directs readers to Rebel News, a far-right media website. This is not the North I remember.
Past Kitwanga, the highway was lined with faded fireweed blooms and fluff (flowers gone to seed) and stretches of cow parsnip, which I now know to be native and are not to be confused with the much larger invasive giant hogweed. Whilst Henning stopped at the side of the road to make himself a cup of coffee, I picked wild raspberries. There was a clear gurgling stream nearby and the vegetation sparkled in the sunlight after a brief rain shower. I inhaled the cool fresh air. This was the North I know and love.
When we left the Meziadin Lake campground the next morning, patches of blue sky appeared and a lovely carpet of yellow flowers grew along the highway. We hadn’t driven far before a deluge of rain hit us, and the temperature dropped sharply - déjà vu from last year. As we approached Tatogga Lake Resort, we saw a large new sign that piqued our interest. We were surprised to find the old geologist, John Wright, behind the kitchen counter. The stuffed moose, and numerous other large game, were still occupying the dining hall. As it turns out, John hadn’t sold to a mining company as we’d been led to believe - and swore to us that he’ll never sell - but had been shut down by the government during Covid. There wasn’t anyone in the dining hall so he was eager to chat with us. He brought up contentious issues (maybe he was just trying to bait us), and tried to talk us into staying at Tatogga instead of flying into Edziza. John also mentioned that he’d converted the Cremation of Sam McGee to a song and posted it on YouTube. (Check it out) Still such a character!
Upon arrival at BC Yukon Air in Dease Lake, we were told that the Beaver was in use so we’d be flown in on a smaller floatplane (Maule) that required two trips. Ann and Tanis suggested we take the first flight given that we were familiar with the trail to the camping area. We hung out in the small dining section of Super A Foods, noting the rain showers, and hoping that the cloud ceiling would remain high enough for our late afternoon flights. Ann and Tanis spoke to two hikers who’d just completed the Spectrum Traverse - one had drunk untreated water and was in a lot of discomfort. Why would anyone want to take such a risk in a remote place like Edziza?
The floatplane looked rickety to me, as if held together by tape and glue. I wasn’t convinced the door would stay shut for the trip! But I practiced conscious breathing to bring down my anxiety. Despite a little turbulence, it was a pleasant flight and we were even able to view some of the Edziza (Tencho) glacier. As we approached Mowdade Lake, a fierce wind was whipping up the water, and the plane bounced a few times on landing. Our female pilot from New Zealand, asked if I was OK ‘walking the wire’ to get from the back seat of the plane to the dock. Not your average disembarkation! The dock was in rough shape, half sunken and didn’t extend very far from shore. This played a major role in the near catastrophe that ensued during the attempted departure. With the forceful wind pushing the plane towards shore, at any moment I expected the wing to be clipped or torn off by the trees. But our intrepid pilot jumped into the water just in time to push the plane out of danger! On the second attempt, she enlisted our help to hang onto ropes and shove the plane off from the dock. I almost got hit in the head by one of the wings! The pilot opened the door of the moving plane to cry out “Are you all right?” Roughly two hours later we heard the plane bringing Ann and Tanis. The powerful wind and ordeal at the dock had not intimidated our pilot.
Day 1, August 10
We headed out from Mowdade Lake at 8:20 am under cloudy skies and 13℃. After the first creek crossing, we were into the beaver dam/flooded area. There was a lot of water on the trail due to recent rain and beaver activity (we hadn’t seen any dams last year). At times the water was knee deep and the mud extremely slippery. It sucked at our footwear, and in Ann’s case actually pulled one of her Teevas off her foot! I told Ann that I thought this was the worst section we’d be doing today - well that turned out to be totally wrong! We wore our holey shoes/water shoes for 6 hours, always anticipating more swampy areas and the Chakima Creek crossing that never seemed to come. Numerous fallen trees blocked parts of the trail (there had clearly been no park maintenance this year!) and made for a challenging obstacle course. We climbed around, over and under logs - on our bellies so that our packs wouldn’t get hung up on tree branches. Like boot camp! Another part of the trail required bushwacking through dense, wet willow that slammed into our face, legs and chest and grabbed at our hair and clothing, all the while trying not to slip in the mud.
We headed out from Mowdade Lake at 8:20 am under cloudy skies and 13℃. After the first creek crossing, we were into the beaver dam/flooded area. There was a lot of water on the trail due to recent rain and beaver activity (we hadn’t seen any dams last year). At times the water was knee deep and the mud extremely slippery. It sucked at our footwear, and in Ann’s case actually pulled one of her Teevas off her foot! I told Ann that I thought this was the worst section we’d be doing today - well that turned out to be totally wrong! We wore our holey shoes/water shoes for 6 hours, always anticipating more swampy areas and the Chakima Creek crossing that never seemed to come. Numerous fallen trees blocked parts of the trail (there had clearly been no park maintenance this year!) and made for a challenging obstacle course. We climbed around, over and under logs - on our bellies so that our packs wouldn’t get hung up on tree branches. Like boot camp! Another part of the trail required bushwacking through dense, wet willow that slammed into our face, legs and chest and grabbed at our hair and clothing, all the while trying not to slip in the mud.
Although the rain didn’t amount to more than periodic showers, we were soon soaked by the wet vegetation. Unfortunately we’d failed to put on our rain gear when the first shower materialized and then it became pointless. We never stopped for lunch - too wet and miserable - just snacked during brief rest stops. However, past Chakima Creek, up a steep slope, we experienced a momentary break in the clouds and bright sun lit up a profusion of magenta fireweed on the hillside above us. Breathtaking peaks appeared from the mist. And sun graced our faces. It felt heavenly.
Earlier, we’d encountered two young hunters each carrying 120 lbs of mountain sheep on their backs. An amazing feat to be sure, but it was a little distressing for me to see the sheep horns strapped to the outside of a pack. One moment this animal was alive, only to have its life force taken moments later. To me, hunting in a provincial park seems wrong.
We arrived at our campsite tired and wet, 8.5 hours since departing Mowdade Lake. I quickly changed into dry clothes, and only started to warm up after hot tea and supper. Nonetheless, I was the last into the tent, sitting out in the stillness and glimpsing stunning peaks as the dense fog moved in and out.
Earlier, we’d encountered two young hunters each carrying 120 lbs of mountain sheep on their backs. An amazing feat to be sure, but it was a little distressing for me to see the sheep horns strapped to the outside of a pack. One moment this animal was alive, only to have its life force taken moments later. To me, hunting in a provincial park seems wrong.
We arrived at our campsite tired and wet, 8.5 hours since departing Mowdade Lake. I quickly changed into dry clothes, and only started to warm up after hot tea and supper. Nonetheless, I was the last into the tent, sitting out in the stillness and glimpsing stunning peaks as the dense fog moved in and out.
Day 2, August 11
I awoke at 6 am to rain on the tent. The rain continued until 10 am, and low clouds and showers persisted throughout the remainder of the day. The daytime high was 11℃. Unfortunately, we discovered that our tent fly was leaking and water was coming through the inner tent mesh and dripping onto our sleeping bags! Henning took down our tarp, that had been erected over our eating/shelter area, and strung it over the tent. Luckily, we still had Ann and Tanis’ tarp to huddle under to stay out of the rain.
At breakfast we made the decision not to move camp due to the wet and cold - much of our clothing was wet, and it would likely be too exposed to venture beyond the tree line. It didn’t take long for me to feel chilled sitting under the tarp, so I had to go back into my sleeping bag for the rest of the morning. Later in the afternoon, when the showers seemed to stop, we quickly erected a clothesline and hung out our wet clothing. The sunshine broke through for all of 2 minutes, and the quickly moving clouds yielded further 2 minute bouts of sun. It wasn’t really enough to dry stuff, but the warm sun on our faces was welcome.
Day 3, August 12
It was difficult for me to stay positive today. It rained on and off all day and the temperature didn’t rise above 10℃. Again, I had to retreat into the tent and my sleeping bag after breakfast, but it took me a very long time to warm up. Although Henning and Ann remained outside under the tarp, it wasn’t an option for me. My body doesn’t generate heat sitting around in these conditions. Henning and Ann attempted to make a fire in the fire pit but were unsuccessful.
Our water source had been compromised by a mud slide, but by boiling it and allowing the sediment to sink to the bottom of a pot, it was acceptable for coffee/tea and hydrating our meals. We discussed adding an additional day to the trip if the weather were to improve, but that would mean rationing our food. Though I was keen to maximize our hiking days, I didn’t think cutting down on calorie intake was wise for me. On the contrary, one needs to eat more when it’s cold. And so, when I finally emerged from the tent at 2:30 pm, I had hot tea and a hot lunch and started feeling a whole lot better very quickly. Hot fluids and calories! Henning held my wet sock over the camp stove to aid the drying process, but ended up burning a hole into one of my new Icebreaker socks! The rain stopped briefly by late afternoon, but we were back in the tent by 7:30 pm. Tomorrow’s forecast called for 0 % chance of rain and even some sun. Though it was a small window of forecasted good weather, we decided to head for the Orange Bowl - it was now or never!
I awoke at 6 am to rain on the tent. The rain continued until 10 am, and low clouds and showers persisted throughout the remainder of the day. The daytime high was 11℃. Unfortunately, we discovered that our tent fly was leaking and water was coming through the inner tent mesh and dripping onto our sleeping bags! Henning took down our tarp, that had been erected over our eating/shelter area, and strung it over the tent. Luckily, we still had Ann and Tanis’ tarp to huddle under to stay out of the rain.
At breakfast we made the decision not to move camp due to the wet and cold - much of our clothing was wet, and it would likely be too exposed to venture beyond the tree line. It didn’t take long for me to feel chilled sitting under the tarp, so I had to go back into my sleeping bag for the rest of the morning. Later in the afternoon, when the showers seemed to stop, we quickly erected a clothesline and hung out our wet clothing. The sunshine broke through for all of 2 minutes, and the quickly moving clouds yielded further 2 minute bouts of sun. It wasn’t really enough to dry stuff, but the warm sun on our faces was welcome.
Day 3, August 12
It was difficult for me to stay positive today. It rained on and off all day and the temperature didn’t rise above 10℃. Again, I had to retreat into the tent and my sleeping bag after breakfast, but it took me a very long time to warm up. Although Henning and Ann remained outside under the tarp, it wasn’t an option for me. My body doesn’t generate heat sitting around in these conditions. Henning and Ann attempted to make a fire in the fire pit but were unsuccessful.
Our water source had been compromised by a mud slide, but by boiling it and allowing the sediment to sink to the bottom of a pot, it was acceptable for coffee/tea and hydrating our meals. We discussed adding an additional day to the trip if the weather were to improve, but that would mean rationing our food. Though I was keen to maximize our hiking days, I didn’t think cutting down on calorie intake was wise for me. On the contrary, one needs to eat more when it’s cold. And so, when I finally emerged from the tent at 2:30 pm, I had hot tea and a hot lunch and started feeling a whole lot better very quickly. Hot fluids and calories! Henning held my wet sock over the camp stove to aid the drying process, but ended up burning a hole into one of my new Icebreaker socks! The rain stopped briefly by late afternoon, but we were back in the tent by 7:30 pm. Tomorrow’s forecast called for 0 % chance of rain and even some sun. Though it was a small window of forecasted good weather, we decided to head for the Orange Bowl - it was now or never!
Day 4, August 13
I was hopeful when I didn’t hear rain on the tent that morning. The clouds were low, but sun rays beckoned while we breakfasted under the tarp amid showers. Ann and Tanis were packed up before us and eager to get going, so they went ahead. We caught up to them just before the horse camp (no evidence of horses) and headed up the beautiful Chakima Creek valley. It felt good to be moving. We were glad once we put the marshy/willowy areas behind us. At this point we stopped to change our footwear (holey shoes to hiking boots) and/or rainpants/jackets and watched the mist begin to creep up the valley.
I was hopeful when I didn’t hear rain on the tent that morning. The clouds were low, but sun rays beckoned while we breakfasted under the tarp amid showers. Ann and Tanis were packed up before us and eager to get going, so they went ahead. We caught up to them just before the horse camp (no evidence of horses) and headed up the beautiful Chakima Creek valley. It felt good to be moving. We were glad once we put the marshy/willowy areas behind us. At this point we stopped to change our footwear (holey shoes to hiking boots) and/or rainpants/jackets and watched the mist begin to creep up the valley.
As we steadily pushed uphill, wind gusts of 50-60 km/hr began to slam into us. It was tough going to the pass. From here we headed up a steep narrow track that switchbacked up the hillside. I felt I might get blown over and had to stop periodically and steady myself by planting my hiking poles and leaning into the wind. At the top of the hill, extensive vistas and snow-capped peaks, cut off by high cloud, came into view. We lunched behind a rocky outcrop to get a little relief from the cold wind. Four hours after leaving camp, we arrived in the Orange Bowl. Despite the lack of blue sky, the majestic peaks did not disappoint. We set up camp in the wind using the tent site we’d leveled the previous summer.
Given that it was still early in the day, and just in case the rain returned tomorrow, we decided to climb one of the peaks. It was a steep hike on a grassy slope (with rocky sections), and we encountered a number of interesting mushrooms that I didn’t recall from past Edziza trips. The clouds began to disperse and blue patches got bigger and bigger, coalescing into an endless blue sky. The view from the top was well worth the strenuous climb, but because it was super windy, we didn’t hang out too long. We were back at camp for supper in the sunshine, and took in all the splendour of the luminous orange peaks. Once the sun disappeared, it got cold quickly, chasing us into our tents.
Magnificent Views from the Top of one of the Peaks in the Orange Bowl
Revelling in the
Evening Sun
in the
Orange Bowl
Day 5, August 14
Henning got up first. It was 1.5℃! We wore virtually everything we had with us. The sun was already lighting up some of the orange peaks, and within an hour it reached the bowl. We were grateful for its warmth. Given the day’s favourable forecast, as tempting as it was not to move camp, we opted to return to the pass and head towards Coffee Crater as originally planned.
It was pleasant walking to the pass and down to the meadows where we could camp. However, it was still early in the day, so Tanis and I suggested we continue up the gully to camp on the plateau. The forecast was now calling for rain and wind as early as 4 pm, so we wanted to have camp set up well before then.
Henning got up first. It was 1.5℃! We wore virtually everything we had with us. The sun was already lighting up some of the orange peaks, and within an hour it reached the bowl. We were grateful for its warmth. Given the day’s favourable forecast, as tempting as it was not to move camp, we opted to return to the pass and head towards Coffee Crater as originally planned.
It was pleasant walking to the pass and down to the meadows where we could camp. However, it was still early in the day, so Tanis and I suggested we continue up the gully to camp on the plateau. The forecast was now calling for rain and wind as early as 4 pm, so we wanted to have camp set up well before then.
It was very scenic when we reached the plateau. We viewed Tadeda Peak, among other orange peaks, and the ravine we’d descended from the pass, as well as distant snow-capped peaks to the west of us. This had all been obscured by low cloud in 2018.
Fortunately, we found reasonably flat spots that we surmised would offer protection from the wind, and immediately began site prep/camp construction. It was just after 2 pm. Ann and Tanis climbed back down the gully to retrieve water from the creek, since we hadn’t found water near our camp. We were huddled under the tarp, in the cold, by the time the rain hit. Tanis discovered a new use for freeze-dried meal pouches filled with boiling water, namely, holding the bag close to your body like a hot water bottle. But that only kept the cold at bay for so long. We were all in our tents by 6:30 pm.
Fortunately, we found reasonably flat spots that we surmised would offer protection from the wind, and immediately began site prep/camp construction. It was just after 2 pm. Ann and Tanis climbed back down the gully to retrieve water from the creek, since we hadn’t found water near our camp. We were huddled under the tarp, in the cold, by the time the rain hit. Tanis discovered a new use for freeze-dried meal pouches filled with boiling water, namely, holding the bag close to your body like a hot water bottle. But that only kept the cold at bay for so long. We were all in our tents by 6:30 pm.
On the plateau, looking for a reasonably flat spot to camp. Henning spreading sand for a smoother and flatter tent pad.
Day 6, August 15
Oh what a night! Torrential rain, then intense wind that caused the tarp to flap and make a hell of a racket all night long. None of us slept very soundly. We’d been in our tents for 12 hours! The morning was cold with the sun trying to break through the cloud. Dressed in all our layers, we breakfasted under the tarp and were optimistic for a decent day to view Coffee Crater. But as we hiked through a saddle of the plateau, the sky steadily darkened and we felt raindrops when we came to the edge of the volcanic lowlands. We looked down onto distant Tencho Glacier and a myriad of cones and craters that were visible beneath a thin shroud of mist. Momentarily, the cones and craters lit up in bright sun before becoming veiled again.
--- It was all very surreal ---
Oh what a night! Torrential rain, then intense wind that caused the tarp to flap and make a hell of a racket all night long. None of us slept very soundly. We’d been in our tents for 12 hours! The morning was cold with the sun trying to break through the cloud. Dressed in all our layers, we breakfasted under the tarp and were optimistic for a decent day to view Coffee Crater. But as we hiked through a saddle of the plateau, the sky steadily darkened and we felt raindrops when we came to the edge of the volcanic lowlands. We looked down onto distant Tencho Glacier and a myriad of cones and craters that were visible beneath a thin shroud of mist. Momentarily, the cones and craters lit up in bright sun before becoming veiled again.
--- It was all very surreal ---
We decided to return to camp traversing the same hummocky terrain as in 2018. Despite the rain, it was pleasant walking. Déjà vu from 2018, but this time I hadn’t been walking for 5 hours after a sleepless night and have another 4-5 hours to go battling a bitter cold wind and pounding rain. We packed up in the rain and hiked back to our first camp south of the horse camp. The sun came out briefly in the evening, so I remained sitting out after the others had gone to their tents. I took in the surroundings, which were feeling familiar after so many visits, and wondered if I would ever find myself here again.
Day 7, August 16
The hike to Mowdade Lake was fraught with brutal sections, as had been the case on our way in, but at least we knew what to expect, and it remained dry from above. In fact, the sun came out while we had a leisurely lunch next to a creek where we’d lunched twice before. By the time we reached the beaver dam/flooded area, Henning was limping. He believes he sustained an injury to his shin while we were bushwhacking after the Chakima Creek crossing. Uncanny that this was almost the same place I’d injured my shin in 2018. The mossy forest floor revealed a number of fungal gems. My personal favourite, that I’d never encountered before, was the purple coral club fungus. Smooth, purplish brown, worm-like fingers reach out from underground. Apparently the ‘fingers’ start out vivid purple - what a sight that would be! When we arrived at Mowdade camp, two hunters had been waiting all day for a pick-up, since it had been too windy for a floatplane to make it in. We wondered how long we might have to wait, especially since there’d been no response to Henning’s InReach message by the time we went to sleep.
The hike to Mowdade Lake was fraught with brutal sections, as had been the case on our way in, but at least we knew what to expect, and it remained dry from above. In fact, the sun came out while we had a leisurely lunch next to a creek where we’d lunched twice before. By the time we reached the beaver dam/flooded area, Henning was limping. He believes he sustained an injury to his shin while we were bushwhacking after the Chakima Creek crossing. Uncanny that this was almost the same place I’d injured my shin in 2018. The mossy forest floor revealed a number of fungal gems. My personal favourite, that I’d never encountered before, was the purple coral club fungus. Smooth, purplish brown, worm-like fingers reach out from underground. Apparently the ‘fingers’ start out vivid purple - what a sight that would be! When we arrived at Mowdade camp, two hunters had been waiting all day for a pick-up, since it had been too windy for a floatplane to make it in. We wondered how long we might have to wait, especially since there’d been no response to Henning’s InReach message by the time we went to sleep.
Purple
Coral
Club Fungus
Fortunately, by morning we’d received good news. Our transport was scheduled to arrive before noon. Breakfast was interrupted by a rain shower that had us scrambling to pack up before everything got wet. But the sun came out soon after, and we sat down by the lake soaking up rays until we heard a Beaver fly overhead.
*** It had been another tough trip - we felt like almost everything had been thrown
at us with regard to the cold, the wind and the rain - but this harsh wild place
called Edziza always reveals its beauty and grandeur. No reward without toil. ***
at us with regard to the cold, the wind and the rain - but this harsh wild place
called Edziza always reveals its beauty and grandeur. No reward without toil. ***
On the drive home the highway was closed between Spences Bridge and Hope due to wildfire, so we had to go through Merritt (but still managed to stop at the fruit stand for peaches!) and take the Coquihalla. It was not surprising that the rest stop on the Coquihalla was packed. A middle-aged man in a truck was idling in front of an “Idle Free BC” sign near the picnic bench where we were planning to have our lunch. When I pointed at the sign, he rolled down his window and said, “Mind your own fucking business!” I was in total shock and disbelief. I later watched a young woman and children get into the truck. What must this man be teaching his grandchildren?