Northern Rockies: Stone Mountain Provincial Park
August 12-17, 2020
We drove up to Meziadin Lake. There were few cars after Kitwanga, swaths of magenta fireweed lined the road and snow capped peaks were visible against a blue sky. We encountered six young black bears in total and a number of stone sheep alongside this stretch of road. Earlier, in the Bulkley Valley, we’d spotted a cow moose next to the highway. It was lovely to be here again. Having grown up in Kitimat, I feel that a part of my heart will always belong to the North.
We’d come across numerous “Closed to visitors” signs for the indigenous communities along the way, and surmised that the Covid-19 pandemic was also responsible for the lack of traffic on the Stewart-Cassiar Highway: no Alaska bound Americans in humungous RVs!
Our highly anticipated trip into Edziza Park was quickly losing its appeal. Rain (and highs not reaching beyond 11 °C; lows of 4 °C) was in the forecast and waist high creek crossings near Mowdade Lake had been relayed to us by Alpine Air. I’d also fallen off the picnic table at Meziadin while helping Henning erect the tarp and was concerned about the pain I felt in my right ankle. We were reluctant to abandon the Edziza trip but felt that the lack of clear skies and mountain scenery wouldn’t warrant the expense of the float plane.
We also weren’t equipped for winter camping should snow transpire at higher elevations. With heavy hearts, we drove to the Boya Lake Campground where it was raining and 12 ℃ and then on to Watson Lake where we got a hotel room that had internet to research alternative backpack trips and monitor the weather forecast. Unlike the Lower Mainland, no one was wearing masks in the North. However social distancing was being followed so that we felt reasonably safe eating at the hotel’s restaurant. Since rain was still called for all week in Dease Lake, we drove on to Muncho Lake (for a backpacking trip in Stone Mountain Provincial Park, Northern Rockies), now definitively having given up on Edziza for this year.
After three nights of camping in the cold rain at Strawberry Flats Campground, Muncho Lake, we were fast becoming demoralized. (Though we did get out for day hikes in the immediate vicinity.) Fortunately the weather looked marginally better for the next few days so we decided it was now or not at all. We packed up in the rain. It was 7 °C. I didn’t allow myself to think of the possibility of it snowing at the trail head. We saw several caribou along the highway and were delighted that the rain had stopped when we reached the trailhead for the MacDonald Creek Trail. |
AUGUST 12
The trail started through pine forest and paralleled MacDonald Creek. Not long after crossing the creek, mountain peaks started to emerge from the clouds. I was ecstatic! Finally, we were out alone in the wilderness, away from RVs. The trail followed a beautiful river valley, and we had several creek crossings and passed the Horse Camp before we pitched our tent (4-5 hours from the trailhead) among grasses, moss and lichen, bog blueberry, stunted Azalea bushes and tall skinny widely spaced Engelmann spruce. We were high above the banks of the river where emerald foaming water cascaded over large flat boulders to a series of pools that would be lovely to jump into on a hot day! Mountain peaks surrounded us. By evening dark clouds had moved in and light rain began to fall but not before Henning got the tarp up and I’d erected the tent.
The trail started through pine forest and paralleled MacDonald Creek. Not long after crossing the creek, mountain peaks started to emerge from the clouds. I was ecstatic! Finally, we were out alone in the wilderness, away from RVs. The trail followed a beautiful river valley, and we had several creek crossings and passed the Horse Camp before we pitched our tent (4-5 hours from the trailhead) among grasses, moss and lichen, bog blueberry, stunted Azalea bushes and tall skinny widely spaced Engelmann spruce. We were high above the banks of the river where emerald foaming water cascaded over large flat boulders to a series of pools that would be lovely to jump into on a hot day! Mountain peaks surrounded us. By evening dark clouds had moved in and light rain began to fall but not before Henning got the tarp up and I’d erected the tent.
AUGUST 13
It rained all night but had lessened to a drizzle by morning. We breakfasted under the tarp, hopeful the rain would stop but things were very unsettled with clouds moving quickly. We set off wearing our rain gear and Henning’s newest invention, boot covers made from ziplock bags. Unfortunately Henning was experiencing a sore back (as a result of climbing a series of ropes to an impressive cave not far from our Muncho Lake campsite). I offered to lighten his load by taking more of the food and hoped that his back wouldn’t worsen. It was slow going. The trail consisted of a narrow horse trail at times a foot deep in muck and horse dung, and chest high vegetation (willow and dwarf birch) slammed into our legs and chest. Wet vegetation and orange pollen covered us from head to toe, yet our feet stayed reasonably dry. The numerous creek crossings also slowed us down.
We’d planned for a fairly short day, just 7 km, but when we took a rest break and I commented that it seemed an awful long 7 km, Henning’s consultation with Gaia concluded that we’d passed our prospective campsite and were far from a source of water. I was not a happy camper! But we had no choice. We had to retrace our route to a point where we could access water. A short while later I spied a gulley that we followed down the hillside, plowing through dense bush, to the bottom of the river valley.
It rained all night but had lessened to a drizzle by morning. We breakfasted under the tarp, hopeful the rain would stop but things were very unsettled with clouds moving quickly. We set off wearing our rain gear and Henning’s newest invention, boot covers made from ziplock bags. Unfortunately Henning was experiencing a sore back (as a result of climbing a series of ropes to an impressive cave not far from our Muncho Lake campsite). I offered to lighten his load by taking more of the food and hoped that his back wouldn’t worsen. It was slow going. The trail consisted of a narrow horse trail at times a foot deep in muck and horse dung, and chest high vegetation (willow and dwarf birch) slammed into our legs and chest. Wet vegetation and orange pollen covered us from head to toe, yet our feet stayed reasonably dry. The numerous creek crossings also slowed us down.
We’d planned for a fairly short day, just 7 km, but when we took a rest break and I commented that it seemed an awful long 7 km, Henning’s consultation with Gaia concluded that we’d passed our prospective campsite and were far from a source of water. I was not a happy camper! But we had no choice. We had to retrace our route to a point where we could access water. A short while later I spied a gulley that we followed down the hillside, plowing through dense bush, to the bottom of the river valley.
We set up camp on the river gravel bar surrounded by rocky peaks.
AUGUST 14
I was elated when we awoke to a glorious sunny morning. At last! We decided on a day hike to Last Call Lake, and without clearly marked trails, relied on the route shown in Gaia. We crossed MacDonald Creek and climbed up the embankment. Soon we found ourselves bushwacking through waist deep dense vegetation that threatened to trip us and had a knack for untying our boot laces! We were clearly not on any hiking trail, but continued to head uphill on a steep climb until we reached an expansive plain. Mossy ground cover was studded with deep red berries that shone in the sun like rubies and red leaves (signalling the approach of fall) were accentuated against white and yellow lichen. We saw a caribou galloping in the distance and a short while later antlers appeared above the brush in front of us. We stood in awe as we watched the beautiful form of a large caribou come within 50 m of us. Here, the going was good and we were able to follow numerous animal trails, but then the animal trails started to peter out and we were back to bushwacking through dense bush. The mountain scenery, however, was spectacular and, like Edziza Park, we encountered few people and felt that we were experiencing a wild and remote region.
I was elated when we awoke to a glorious sunny morning. At last! We decided on a day hike to Last Call Lake, and without clearly marked trails, relied on the route shown in Gaia. We crossed MacDonald Creek and climbed up the embankment. Soon we found ourselves bushwacking through waist deep dense vegetation that threatened to trip us and had a knack for untying our boot laces! We were clearly not on any hiking trail, but continued to head uphill on a steep climb until we reached an expansive plain. Mossy ground cover was studded with deep red berries that shone in the sun like rubies and red leaves (signalling the approach of fall) were accentuated against white and yellow lichen. We saw a caribou galloping in the distance and a short while later antlers appeared above the brush in front of us. We stood in awe as we watched the beautiful form of a large caribou come within 50 m of us. Here, the going was good and we were able to follow numerous animal trails, but then the animal trails started to peter out and we were back to bushwacking through dense bush. The mountain scenery, however, was spectacular and, like Edziza Park, we encountered few people and felt that we were experiencing a wild and remote region.
After almost 4 hours, the brilliantly turquoise lake came into view. I raced down to the water’s edge, entertaining thoughts of a quick dip into the water, but those thoughts immediately evaporated when clouds of insects materialized! We both raced back uphill as fast as we could, hoping for a breeze, but the mosquitoes, black flies and deer flies found us in no time, so our lunch was brief. On our return we spent some time hunting for a proper maintained trail but were unsuccessful. We got very frustrated with the numerous trails (likely animal trails) that always seemed to peter out. Unfortunately when we got back to camp I discovered that my Patagonia wind jacket was no longer stuffed into the pocket on the outside of my pack. Oh no! Not my favourite jacket! Had I lost it during one of our rest stops or had it gotten snagged on a branch while we were bushwacking to find the trail? It could be anywhere! And yet, I walked back to the last creek crossing, some 30 or 40 minutes, where we’d had to open our packs to put on our holey shoes, but no luck.
AUGUST 15
Despite our inReach forecast of only 20% chance of rain, we awoke to showers and it threatened to rain most of the day. We sat under the tarp and contemplated our hiking possibilities. We could attempt to look for the viewpoint at the end of the horse trail we’d come in on, but with such low cloud cover it hardly seemed worth it. So it wasn’t too difficult to persuade Henning to retrace our route from yesterday to look for my jacket. I wasn’t overly optimistic. Despite having our GPS track it would be near impossible to walk the exact path we’d taken yesterday. After 2.5 hours we were ready to abandon the search. And then Henning, very nonchalantly announced “And there it is”. It was lying on the ground right next to him. What are the chances?! I thought to myself that I am very lucky that Henning is such a good sport. Not many men would have hiked this challenging terrain twice, and with a sore back too.
AUGUST 16
Today we headed back to our first camp. The hiking was lovely. I was cheered by the mild temperature, a hint of sun and panoramic views. I wondered if Henning was able to share in my joy given that I could see he was wearing his pack off to one side. Clearly his back was still causing him discomfort. After we set up the tent and tarp and hung our hiking boots in a tree to dry in the wind, I wandered down to the river and sat on a large boulder at the river’s edge. I was mesmerized by the water, frothy and bubbly, cascading over rocks and lingering a nanosecond in deep, clear, turquoise pools. I felt I could sit here for hours.
Today we headed back to our first camp. The hiking was lovely. I was cheered by the mild temperature, a hint of sun and panoramic views. I wondered if Henning was able to share in my joy given that I could see he was wearing his pack off to one side. Clearly his back was still causing him discomfort. After we set up the tent and tarp and hung our hiking boots in a tree to dry in the wind, I wandered down to the river and sat on a large boulder at the river’s edge. I was mesmerized by the water, frothy and bubbly, cascading over rocks and lingering a nanosecond in deep, clear, turquoise pools. I felt I could sit here for hours.
AUGUST 17
The night and early morning sky were clear, but by the time I got out of the tent clouds were gathering. And by the time we finished breakfast the sky had darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. We hurried to take down the tent. While I was filling our water bottles at the river huge raindrops began to fall, but we quickly sheltered under the cozy tarp. When the rain let up we took the opportunity to finish our packing. A dense fog bank moved in and by the time we were on the trail back to the vehicle it was pouring rain. Our dry socks and boots were soaked again in no time! The trail was muddy and slippery and miserable, but we pushed on. After 1.5 hours of tough going sun rays suddenly broke through and backlit the raindrops: the landscape sparkled! After another 30 minutes there was not a single cloud in the deep blue sky. We rested alongside MacDonald Creek basking in the warmth of the sun and gazing at the glistening water as it rushed over stones. When we reached the forested part of the trail a caribou nonchalantly (and perhaps unaware of our presence) walked past us on an adjacent trail. The thrill of watching wildlife never dulls! At the vehicle we laid out all our wet gear to dry in the sun.
The night and early morning sky were clear, but by the time I got out of the tent clouds were gathering. And by the time we finished breakfast the sky had darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. We hurried to take down the tent. While I was filling our water bottles at the river huge raindrops began to fall, but we quickly sheltered under the cozy tarp. When the rain let up we took the opportunity to finish our packing. A dense fog bank moved in and by the time we were on the trail back to the vehicle it was pouring rain. Our dry socks and boots were soaked again in no time! The trail was muddy and slippery and miserable, but we pushed on. After 1.5 hours of tough going sun rays suddenly broke through and backlit the raindrops: the landscape sparkled! After another 30 minutes there was not a single cloud in the deep blue sky. We rested alongside MacDonald Creek basking in the warmth of the sun and gazing at the glistening water as it rushed over stones. When we reached the forested part of the trail a caribou nonchalantly (and perhaps unaware of our presence) walked past us on an adjacent trail. The thrill of watching wildlife never dulls! At the vehicle we laid out all our wet gear to dry in the sun.
Despite the unseasonably cool and wet weather, Henning and I were very grateful that we’d persevered to carry out a backpacking trip in the North. We also cherished our close encounters with the majestic caribou.