Day 12: Gillis Lake, BC -> Gillis Lake, BC

Date: May 27, 2023
Start: Gillis Lake Recreation Site, BC
End: Gillis Lake Recreation Site, BC
Distance: 30km

This was the day that Jeremy's good luck ran out...and then didn't.

It started like many others: cool air, sunshine, no clouds, and the Gillis Lake Recreation Area was looking incredible with the sun lighting the scene of beauty.  The trees are tall, thick, and old.  Their lower branches have been cleared away so the lower area of the campground is open, but the sun streaming down through the trees casts big shadows.  And the bows on the branches seem to glow.  Their trunks  are like massive columns.  The feeling is akin to standing in a cathedral.  The light.  The scale.  The solemn feeling of calm.  Emily Carr got it right.

I ate, packed, typed a blog post, and was ready to go at about 9:30.  The day promised to be very difficult.  I needed to get 60km along forestry roads going west to Highway 1 near Boston Bar, B.C.  These roads are rugged, rocky, rough.  After that I needed to go another 70km south into Hope, B.C. where I'd - foolishly - booked a campsite.  130km would have been my longest day yet.  On top of the questionable state of the forestry roads, and the fact that the floods from 2021 had damaged SO.MANY. roads and trails in this area meant I might not make it through...and if I did, it might mean being on the highway late in the day.

Before setting off I chatted with another camper.  He was a hunter and it is hunting season for black bears.  He told me he hadn't gone that far west in this area since the floods and wasn't sure if it was passable but gave me directions and advice.  I set off feeling pretty good!

The road was very.rocky. and I bounced along between 7-10km/h.  At this pace I'd be at the Highway in 6 hours...and this was definitely stretching the definition of possible for getting to Hope.  But the roads headed downward and so the peddling was easier.  I just had to watch for potholes and major rocks.  A single pickup with a camper passed me, and I took a photo.  It was the last human I'd see for 5 hours.

At some point I started passing poop on the road.  But something was wrong with it.  It wasn't deer, elk, moose, or bear.  It looked like it was from a cow...?  I was 10km into the ride in the middle of nowhere, and was flummoxed as to what cattle would be doing here.  But sure enough, around a few more corners they made themselves known.  Cows and their calves on the sides of the road.  In the trees.  In the middle of the road.  They all stared at me.  I'd been around cattle before, but when they don't move you have a definite feeling of "if this thing comes after me it could do some damage."  I tried stopping and giving them time to move.  They just stared.  So I started walking my bike.  They moo'd and started to move down the road.  As I got closer more cows appeared and at one point the road was impassable.  They just kept moving down the road.  I tried a trick my nieces had taught me but I lacked the fine skill needed.  So I started biking, and at some point they moved off into the trees.  Not the wildlife I'd been expecting today!

At 12km the hill started.  And it didn't stop for another 5.5km.  I know that sounds like complaining, but it was gravel and stone.  And it was steep.  VERY.STEEP.  I'd estimate about 10-15% the entire way.  I played a little game where every time I reached the top of a hill I'd have a Cadbury Mini Egg.  I wondered if I had enough eggs to reach the top.  The top of every hill was a switchback for the next climb.  I couldn't peddle up them.  The road was too rough and rocky and my tires would slip.  All I could do was push.

And I did.

For 5.5 kilometers.  At 4km up I was drenched.  The midday sun beat down.  At some point I cursed the heavens.  In vain.  I told them to just kill me and get it done with.  I looked around to see if I might find Sisyphus and trade him my bike for his stone.  It never ended.  And morale took a dive as it was now over 2 hours into the ride and I had only gone 5km.  At this rate, I'd reach Hope in about 2 days.

Eventually I crested the hill.  Which was actually a mountain!  The road went right over it!  I rejoiced at the idea of coming down the other side....but it was not to be.

The road was even rockier on the other side.  And it was washed out all over the place.  It also descended so steeply that I couldn't bike it.  I had to walk down at least half the distance.  Another stretch where I averaged about 4km/h.  I was treated to some spectacular sights though.

At 30km I found the end of the road.  I'd descended into a valley and the river had carved a path of devastation so intense that I couldn't even see where the road might be in the distance.  All that remained was sand, boulders as big as my bike, and log jams.  Chaos had visited this place and made sure to leave nothing untouched.  It wasn't even comparable to the washout the day before on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail.  I immediately stopped because I was hungry and had a quick lunch of cheese, pepperoni, and crackers.

I looked around, but there was no promise of fording.  I noticed some ATV tracks that went up an embankment and decided that they must have found a way around.  I grabbed my bike and started pushing up the hill.  I pushed, and I pushed, and I....wait for it....pushed.  I guess I must have gone up almost 100 meters and it just kept climbing.  It also seemed to be turning away from the direction of the road, so I dropped my bike and headed further on foot...curious to see where it led.

I never found out.  After walking up another 100 meters (at least) I realized this wasn't going back to the road, and even if it did I couldn't push my bike up here.  I walked back down with my bike on the rocky path.

When I got to the bottom I noticed a hole had opened up in the bag I keep my tenting gear in and my inflatable pillow had fallen out.  I've had it since I did The Long Trail in 2018, and it's one of my favourite pieces of equipment.  So back up the hill I went...and I found it where I'd stopped my bike half way up.  And I walked down again.  At this point I'd done a few hundred more meters and my legs were like jelly.

I got back to the washout and decided to see if I could ford it.  Going backwards meant 30km back to Gillis and hundreds more meters of elevation...all pushing...all on dead legs.  I went about 500 meters down the chaotic display and only found more destruction.  Even if the road did exist out there somewhere, I didn't believe I could find it...and if I could, there was no chance I could get my bike there and still get out of these mountains today.  Also, if ANYTHING went wrong I would be stranded in the mountains alone without any cell service and would have to wait for rescue.  A twisted ankle, broken bone, bent tire or rim, and it would all be over.  I went back to my bike, ready to cry.

I sat and dumped the sand out of my shoe, and a pickup truck came down the road.  It immediately turned around, and I thought it might drive off...but it stopped.  Out of the truck came a dog and a man, and both were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.  I chatted with the man a bit and he told me that the road was also washed out about 2km from Boston Bar.  I told him I was heading back and he walked off towards the river.  As I picked my bike up, he turned and said "Do you need a ride?"

I could have kissed him (I didn't).  I didn't do my usual "Are you sure you want to?  Are you going that way?  It's not too much trouble?" routine.  I accepted there and then.

His name is Richard and he was out here hunting bear.  He'd only found me.  He had a serious looking pickup with all the gear, and we loaded the bike onto the cover, strapped it down, and started back.  I thought he only planned to bring me as far as his campsite (well over half way and up the hardest part of the road) but he took me all the way back Gillis Lake.  We talked for the 30-40 minute drive back and shared a few laughs.  I shook his hand twice after we unloaded, got his contact info, and took a picture.  That's his partner in crime- Trigger.  As I thanked him the last time he said "That's what we do for each other out in the bush."

He saved me.  Because I'm really not sure I could have made it back before sundown on the legs I had left.  If you're reading this Richard: Thank You.  I was about to be in serious trouble and would have had a lot harder time had you not shown up and been so willing to rescue me.

I setup camp again, and chatted with some of the new folks that had arrived: a young couple were fishing on the water and just come in for dinner.  I ate instant mashed potatoes again, and they offered me their remaining homemade ramen with veggies.  I hadn't had a vegetable since Summerland days earlier.  Once again, the kindness of strangers had come through.

I never got a picture with them or their names.  I wish I had.  That soup was what hikers call "trail magic".  The trail provides.

Tomorrow I'll take the Coquilhalla...the road I've been trying to avoid the entire time.  I'd had opportunities to avoid it, but kept trying to push onto less and less traveled trails.  It's only fitting that after failing to find two ways around it I need to go through it.

This has been almost 1800 words for the shortest day of the trip thus far.  I almost got lost.  I almost got stuck.  But I definitely had pushed too far off the map.  Strangers had kept me on the right path, safe, and fed.  I again feel so humbled for their generosity and selflessness.

It's chaos out there.  Be kind.