I want all the goals, right now (goals for impatient people)

If you have lots of goals, how do you space them out?

I get it, I’m supposed to set goals for various timeframes. Some for this year, some for next year, some for ten years from now. But what about for impatient / goal-greedy people? I see those 3-year goals, and I want them all at once, along with my goals for this year. It’s sort of like a buffet, where I try to stuff as much on my plate as possible, so that there’s no space on the plate. It’s towering, and when I walk by other people, they just sort of stare at my plate in horror!

I feel like my goals are similar. I have lots and I understand they should be spaced out, but I can’t resist wanting them all, now!

2 different paths. Both please, now!

Some of my goals this year are running-related, things like seeing if I can better my best time at Chuckanut 50k this March, running the West Coast Trail solo in late June, and having a great run at UTMB’s TDS in August. In coming years, I also really want to further my skiing skills, and get into ski mountaineering. The trouble is, I’m super impatient, and I really desperately want everything at once. It means I’m never fully focused on one thing, I’m always thinking about how I can fit the other things in, too. And when you factor in the variability of planning for skiing, having to time the weather, avalanche safety, and the snow conditions, it just doesn’t work that well with also trying to improve in running. Doing multiple things at once is totally fine, but often the best people are the ones who really focus their efforts and energies, day after day. (One gal I really admire who exemplifies this is Krissy Moehl! 18 years of dedication and she wins every damn race there is!)

Lots of goals, I want them all now! Like skiing up to Sproatt in Whistler backcountry.

The only reason I even noticed my tendency to get impatient & greedy with my goals is thanks to my running coach, David. Occasionally I would go out and ski instead of running what I had in my schedule. It was oblivious to me that this might be less than ideal, until I learned from him, that this might be a bad idea the week before a running race. Before having a coach for trail running, I would just go out and do whatever I felt like, so at first it felt weird that there could be an ideal timing to consider, and to plan adventures neatly around the timing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could conform to a timing or restrict my adventures in any way. But how can you expect to improve, if you just keep doing the same thing, never fully committing?

After thinking more about it, I realized that I have a commitment phobia. By doing lots of goals at once I allow myself to dabble, and I stay away from having to fully commit to any one goal. When the time comes to put myself to the test, I never have to know that I gave everything, because I didn’t. I was out frolicking, and I never did fully apply myself to the single purpose, so I can avoid the same level of expectation as though I had. Instead of doing X really well, I did X and Y and Z to a pretty good level. And it’s comfortable, by goal-dabbling, I stay exactly the same each year, maintaining my comfy spot while minimizing chance of failure, by doing other things too. (Case in point, I ran Deception Pass 50k in 2017 & 2013, both times were only 5 minutes off!)

Photo by Ashley Agellon – on Bowen Island in 2017

I hear that some people stagger their goals, and they actually space them out, taking one goal at a time and giving it their all. Going for one goal with everything is a big risk, it’s more clear when you fail, the ego can be crushed, and so it takes courage to commit.

To push past the comfy mediocrity I know and love, I’m going to finally give it a try, dedicate myself fully to one goal without those side goals, and see what happens. For me this year, it means I’ll give the running goals my attention, actually following my training plan and trusting the process. Then next year, I’ll give skiing its own time and space in my goals.

The monthly winter sun came out in North Vancouver, BC!

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The Ethics of Flying in the Mountains

In September, a gang of us hiked up to Lake Lovelywater, one of the most beautiful spots I’ve ever visited near my house in the Tantalus Mountains of BC. Getting there was a satisfying effort, it entailed crossing the Squamish River to access the trailhead, and then hauling huge packs up 1,170m, as the trail climbs alongside a giant waterfall. The old-school, nostalgic person in me loved the simplicity of travelling up there on foot, just as the first explorers might have (although we definitely had more cheesecake, and champagne).

On our way across the Squamish River with lots of colour. Photo by Alex Lea.

Getting to the lake for the first time made us realize how many people fly in to the lake, either by helicopter or float plane. On that trip, there was one party of two guys who had also hiked up, but all other groups at the lake had taken a helicopter, or a float plane. One group had even packed such that they could not move their own belongings 500 meters without the helicopter. (They had packed giant coolers, and didn’t realize the camp spot was a bit of a walk. They made multiple trips to eventually haul the cooler around the lake.) My first reaction was that I really didn’t like the concept of using helicopters to get to the lake. It felt unfortunate to skip the beautiful trail, and to neglect our abilities to simply walk forever. Given the availability of a nice trail to get there, it seemed wasteful. For some reason, I took personal offence to it, it bothered me. The fly-in people were the enemy.

Later that evening, we went to the hut to borrow canoes. These hut people had all flown in, so I wasn’t sure what to make of them. The second I arrive outside the hut, someone waves. The hut people are our friends from Vancouver! That moment turned everything on its head for me, suddenly my enemies were my friends, and my friends, enemies. Seeing the helicopter use in the context of my friends sort of changed everything. Even though I still personally disagreed with it, I felt more open to understanding, because I liked these people.

Since that trip, I’ve thought more about the ethics of travelling in the mountains with support from fossil fuels. In the past I thought about it mostly in terms of helicopters and flights into the mountains, and I wanted to avoid those. So far I had avoided any helicopter use, so I felt innocent. But when I dug a bit deeper, I realized that I do have my own versions, they’re just different.

I don’t fly into mountains, but I fly to big international airports. I fly to Portugal, or Italy, or Mongolia, jumping off points for exotic mountains. Then I started realizing, really, what’s the difference? For some reason I had categorized my international flights as relatively benign, and these mountain helicopter trips as evil, but it doesn’t add up. In fact, those international trips are far more wasteful than the local helicopter trips. When I dug into it, I realized that I was perceiving the two types of trips as benign or wasteful based on whether I could get there by foot, or not. If I could get to the destination by foot in a reasonable time, taking a heli to get there was wasteful. International travel, meanwhile, was rarely ever wasteful in this mindset, because it’s very rare that I could get to an international destination by foot in reasonable time. Maybe that makes sense as one outlook, but it was self-serving, allowing me to become negligent about the impact of my international trips. Who cares about one 20-minute helicopter / float plane trip if I take five long-haul international flights? And what about the person who takes only one single trip per year, and it’s a short helicopter trip, instead of travelling internationally? Then there are the volunteer trail builders who take helicopters to load tons of heavy gear, so that we can enjoy the trails.

 

 

The helicopters at Lake Lovelywater do have an impact, and perhaps when there’s one of the most beautiful trails instead, we should walk. But the situation is less straightforward than my primal urge to think, heli = bad. Our impact on the environment is more about looking at the big picture of what we do in a year.

Paddling on that beauty lake with Alex, Tara, Tory, Nancy and Tara, somehow all snug inside one row boat. Photo by either Tara or Nancy?!

 

Favourite Camp Spots of this Summer!

This past summer, I had the chance to camp all over the place, mostly on a trip to the Sierras in California, and near my home in Squamish, BC. Some of the camp trips were car camping, others were spots that we hiked into with little packs. Here are some of my favourites!


Backcountry fun

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Lone Pine Lake, Mount Whitney, California

The minute we realized we would be in California during summertime, we jumped at the chance to camp in the Mount Whitney area. Lucky for us, we had an entire week of flexibility, so we were able to enter several dates for the permit lottery. And success! We were awarded an overnight permit to camp at Lone Pine Lake, which is about two miles up the trail from Whitney Portal entrance.

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Arriving at Lone Pine Lake, near where we camped.

Of course we would blow right by the lake, hiking onwards and much farther than necessary. (Two miles really flies by!) Backtracking to the lake, we were blown away by its peaceful, crystal blue waters, the beautiful little pine trees around, and the huge slabs of granite on peaks all around us. This camp spot is by far the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen, you can make coffee in a little perch overlooking the Whitney Portal, and watch the sun dance up the granite.

What’s hard about it:

  • Getting a permit. (The lottery wasn’t too bad, but once you get your permit awarded and you think it’s all good, you have to phone the office to confirm the permit closer to your trip date, we nearly missed this as we were traveling, turned into a mad dash to find wiki to Skype-call.)
  • Having to carry a huge food storage device for bears, required by the Parks Office, which is larger than anything else in your bag. Since we hadn’t researched enough, we had to use the massive containers they had on hand. (Likely could get a much smaller one with some advance planning.)

What’s great about it:

  • Given how famous the trail is, I was surprised that it wasn’t super busy. (However, this was June.)
  • So easy to hike up to Lone Pine Lake with overnight gear.
  • Most beautiful sunrise and starry nights.
  • It seems that it’s quite often that the Whitney area weather is amazing for camping! Warm, and unlimited clear skies for gazing at peaks, stars, and staying dry.
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Watching the sun rise up the Whitney Portal, from our perch at Lone Pine Lake, summer 2017

Lake Lovely Water, near Squamish BC

My friends surprised me and took me on this amazing camping trip at the end of September to an area I’ve wanted to visit since, forever.

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Waltzing around at Lake Lovely Water, summer 2017. Photo by Tara Berry.

Lake Lovely Water sits high above the Squamish River, on the opposite side from town. This makes it really tough to get to, as you have to cross a fierce river with some sort of watercraft to get there. I think that’s part of the appeal, it’s fun to figure out the logistics, and exciting to cross it. Plus, getting to the other side sort of feels like stepping into Narnia, a world of deep greens and waterfalls everywhere.

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Lake Lovely Water is an amazing place to take in the Tantalus mountain range.

What’s hard about it:

  • Crossing the river (need some gear, or planning to organize a jet boat)
  • Hiking about 900m vert to get up to the lake (not everyone’s idea of a great time)

What’s great about it:

  • Crossing the river (so fun!)
  • Hiking about 900m vert to get up to the lake (fun!!)
  • You can borrow canoes and rowboats at the lake if you get permission from people staying at the ACC’s hut at the lake!

Car camping fun

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William Kent Campground, West Lake Tahoe, California

This campsite was a little gem right across from the shores of Lake Tahoe. Huge trees provide a cozy haven, and you just feel so at home and protected among them. Doesn’t hurt that this spot is a block from gelato, draft beer and local wine at West Shore Market!

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Serene coziness at William Kent Campground…

What’s hard about it:

  • Most expensive camp spot of our California travels. But hey, still way less than hotel-type lodgings…
  • The camp site happened to be low-key when we were there, (June) but everything in the surrounding area is super busy.

What’s great about it:

  • Across the street is Lake Tahoe and a public beach!
  • Also, across the street is an artisan wine. cheese, ice cream, sandwich shop, so you can be lazy and eat delicious foods made by someone else, if you want.
  • Super close to Tahoe City, Squaw Valley and Truckee, Tahoe Rim Trail…

Convict Lake, near Mammoth Lakes, California

Someone from a gear shop in Bishop, CA, told us about 5-10 various different amazing places to visit in Mammoth Lakes, and while many were lost in translation, we were lucky that this one stuck to our memory.

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Convict Lake is just a few kilometers outside of town in the Mammoth Lakes area, and being so close to the town and not far from the highway, it almost feels wrong that you can drive up to such a massive, beautiful lake, crested by granite peaks. It’s a treat to be able to camp so close to this amazing lake and its trail system!

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What’s hard about it:

  • Not much shelter from the sun, so we tended to hang out there only in early mornings and evenings.
  • Not for a remote camp experience, as it has a resort nearby and lots of tourists coming to fish and boat on the lake.
  • Unlike backcountry lake spots Lake Lovely Water and Lone Pine Lake described above, the campsites are not directly on the lake, but it’s a short walk away.

What’s great about it:

  • The lake is stunning at any time of day, and you only need to walk about 200 meters from any campsite to go see it, again and again and again.
  • Situated right beside a beautiful singletrack trail around the lake, and taking a quick turn off to another trail takes you up to a glacier in just a few kilometers!
  • Showers, laundry, general store, breakfast burrito food truck!
  • Super convenient, close to Mammoth Lakes town. (We even went to a movie one night!)

Those campsites are definitely little slices of heaven… at least in our experience. So many more to explore in BC, Washington and Oregon!

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Baker Lake trail, Washington

 

 

 

Adventures in Mountain Town Lifestyle

Last winter, I was craving a small mountain town lifestyle, which brought me to nearly moving with Julien to Fernie, a small town of about 5,000 in BC’s Rockies, right near Crowsnest Pass. It was so close to fruition, we had made a secret trip there to check out some places to live, and even made an offer on an apartment… right on the ski hill!

Fernie Wednesday Night Socials

Wednesday Night Social at the Fernie Arts Station, summer 2016.

Momentum toward the plan built very quickly… our offer was accepted and we were hiring a lawyer and mortgage broker, just going through the routine contractual stuff. After we were just about final, a kink in the plan was about to set us onto a new course entirely. It turned out that the place we loved was a unique type of vacation property zoning, which meant that banks wouldn’t lend to a place on the ski hill– and we worried about the re-sale, if it was that hard to finance. The apartment was our only real solid plan, and without that, it just didn’t feel meant to be.

We decided to wait a while, move back from False Creek to Vancouver’s North Shore, and continue working until the timing was right. Julien started looking for apartments to rent on the North Shore and unbeknownst to me, he expanded his search to include Squamish. I’ve always loved Squamish. Of course, an amazing apartment surfaced, which is really rare in the town of low rental vacancies. It was also nicer than everything we found in North Vancouver at the time!

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Al Habrich’s trail– one of my favourite spots. Looking just above the Squamish valley.

Of course, our drive up to the apartment viewing was intense– very dark, and the most rainy Vancouver weather I’ve ever seen. I really wanted to move there, so I was already decided, pretty much from before the apartment viewing. And, while Fernie was isolated from any big city, this seemed like a huge positive– you could work in a huge metropolis (Vancouver) and at the same time, live here. Best of both worlds!

We figured that Squamish would be a great place to try living in a smaller city: it’s an amazing place, and we could keep our jobs, and all our friends!

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Running with Nicola and Shauna just outside Squamish, near Deeks Lake at the end of the Howe Sound Crest Trail.

With that, in December, I simultaneously moved to Squamish, and started a new job in Vancouver. It was the best of both worlds for me. I could live in a beautiful mountain town, and also work at an awesome tech company. It was like cooking a new dish, with all new ingredients, and all new processes. But it was exciting!

The early days of my Vancouver / Squamish life were interesting, and full of variety. I got to experience city stuff by day, and then retreat to my beautiful little town in the evenings. It was amazing to not have to choose between lifestyles– I could have both!

Over time, the romantic beginnings of the dual lifestyle wore off, and I began to see things more objectively. I noticed that the only part of Squamish I saw, was my bedroom and kitchen, (mostly unwrapping takeout) and a view of the mountains at night. I wasn’t spending time with new friends in Squamish, and I wasn’t seeing my friends from Vancouver as much. When a friend tried to invite me to a morning run, it wouldn’t really work. Or evening plans. Weekdays were simply out of the cards, for anything leisure. After a while, I also became willing to notice the amount of the time I was spending in transit– almost three hours a day in some form– (shuttle / carpool / drive to carpool / bike to carpool etc.) and once I was willing to notice the numbers, I saw the true cost to the lifestyle.

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Taking Mallory for a quick farewell hike up the Chief when she really should have been down below, at the bus station… ūüėČ

I was indeed living both lifestyles, but living neither one well. I was going to have to choose: my new town, or my new job? The cost of having both was simply not sustainable.

I lasted only nine months of the dual lifestyle… last Thursday was my final day of adventuring to Vancouver for work! It’s always very tough to walk away from something, especially when it involves a group of very kind, smart people, but my heart was planted in my new town, and I’m excited to live here, fully! I’ll actually be around to run at 5pm, show up at potlucks that involve contributing something, and be a better friend!

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Tara enjoying Man Boobs, (it’s a trail), plus splashing in mud! ūüôā

 

 

Learning Patience from the Trails

Since I was little, I’ve been an impatient sort of person. In many ways, I benefited from it. I never wasted a moment, and I got to do lots of things at a young age, guided by this crazy internal clock.

As I started working, I was often rewarded for my impatience, as it transformed into a get shit done quickly attitude. I expect progress to happen, right away. In the short term, I feel like our society really rewards an impatient attitude.

However, it’s also a big pitfall. Being impatient all the time rewards short-term thinking over long-term thinking. But when we set long-term goals, we need to be prepared to wait months, or sometimes even years to see our results come to life. Any long term endeavour requires patience– by definition, it’s something that happens with sustained effort over a long period of time, and an impatient attitude can’t change that. So as I get rewarded in the short-term for my impatient attitude, I know that those big long-term goals require a balance.

Long distance trail running has really been an interesting mental exercise for me, because it’s all about patience. Often, the people who are the strongest in long trail runs are the ones who were patient– in their training, and in their race. In the many long ultra running races I’ve seen, or been a part of, it’s often the smart, patient runners who have the best day. And that’s not to mention the cases of injuries and other setbacks, which further test our patience, and our ability to wait for a better day toward our goal.

One of my favourite places to trail run, Island Lake Lodge in Fernie, BC

When I started trail / ultra running, I was incredibly patient. Coming from a road running background, I didn’t hike or climb at all, so I couldn’t really run uphill, or downhill. I decided it didn’t matter: I really enjoyed running long distances on trails, so I was willing to wait. I gave myself an arbitrary long time– ten years– by when I expected myself to overcome these weaknesses, and I was surprised to really improve in about two years.

Adventures with friends is the best way to spend a day on Earth! Kerry and Tara on the route to Hanes Valley.

As I became less of a disaster and liability, my patience began to slip away. I started to do better and better, and as I did, I expected more from myself, more quickly.

In the past two years, I’ve had to really remember the patience I had when I started. I’ve had an incredible two years of running, getting faster and stronger than ever, and getting opportunities to race internationally. But when it came to the races I entered eagerly, everything usually fell apart, because of my inability to figure out the nutrition side. I found it incredibly frustrating to feel fit, but unable to have a good day at a race. Over and over, I got severely nauseous during races, and performed way worse than I had in similar training runs. It got so frustrating, I thought about maybe trying a new sport… something that did not require eating during the event. Yoga, sprinting, and others became attractive.

But then I remembered that I could simply choose to be patient. If I really like the beautiful places I get to see, the people I get to meet, and the fun I have doing this, why not just chill out a little bit, and give myself time to work through these issues, just like when I started?

Photo by Tara at this year’s epic Broken Arrow Skyrace, which I barely survived. Had a terrible day in terms of results / hoped-for run, but I’ll be using those lessons for the next decade!¬†

With that mindset, I’ve gained back my original patience, bit by bit. I’m more focused on my long-term quest than before. And funny enough, as my short-term expectations lower, my performance rebounds… finally had a race where I didn’t DNF, try to bushwhack off the course at halfway, eat only a single granola bar, eat only goldfish crackers, etc. last week at the Elk Valley Ultra!

Galloping around just outside town in Fernie, BC before a super fun day at the Elk Valley Ultra

 

 

Cirque Lake: Venturing into a Mosquito War, Via Paddle Board

Articles online rave about Cirque Lake, a lake that’s tucked away in the Callaghan Valley of Whistler. It’s supposed to be amazing, so Nikki and I were intrigued. We thought it could be fun to scope it out, and think about bringing a larger group there on a Girls Gone Wilderness adventure.

Of course, others were less interested in all the effort required. To get there in summer months, you must canoe / paddle board / kayak across Callaghan Lake, then take a short trail from there. Fun!! As soon as the mention of multiple sports were mentioned, Nikki and I were stoked.

So we loaded up the Suby with 2 paddle boards, snowshoes, (we figured there would still be a lot of snow this year in July) and a beer. Onwards to Callaghan Country!

Driving up the Callaghan Lake Forest Service Road felt strange. I spent many a winter day hauling ass up here on skate skis, so it was weird and a bit too easy to be driven up.

Getting to Callaghan lake, it was beautiful. With all the focus on Cirque Lake, it’s easy to be surprised by Callaghan. A few people were camping there, and there was generally a really nice vibe.

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Paddling across Callaghan Lake. Photo by Nikki Johnston Beaudoin.

FML, Unexpected Adventure

As we paddled across Callaghan toward the Cirque trailhead, we remembered the advice from online: “paddle to the waterfall, then see a clearing in the trees to the right, that’s where the trailhead is.” Should be no problem. After a 25 minute SUP journey, we transitioned to looking around for the trailhead, getting off the SUP and walking around all places “right” of the waterfall, and there was nothing. After a futile 20-30 minutes of paddle – search, look at low-res map, paddle – search, we decided to ask for advice from the pair of kayakers who were floating¬†nearby. Sure enough, they had been there, although it had taken them four hours, when the guides online said it would be two. The kayakers did a lot of bushwhacking, and it sounded like they didn’t find any sign of a trail until they found the scree field. Their advice was to bushwhack to the right of the waterfall. When I asked if we should bring the snowshoes we had strapped to our SUPs, they said there was snow most of the way, but no. I disregarded their advice. Having paddled the snowshoes all the way, I was bringing them if there was any snow!

I knew following people who had clearly gotten lost and taken 2-3 times longer than I wanted to wasn’t ideal, but we had no other information. We couldn’t see any sign of a trail, and the map we had was way too low-res. A GPS track would have been ideal, we just didn’t think it would come to this. So, we decided to follow the other misguided people’s advice. FML.

Bushwacking in Callaghan Valley

Nikki fending off the mosquito/fly attack while crawling around the forest. Photo by Alicia.

Entering the bushwhack phase, a special kind of hell transpired. A combination of flies and aggressive mosquitos swarmed our faces, especially our eyes and ears. (Side note: I don’t use bug spray.) We were bushwhacking through a marshy area, up and down gullys, while being eaten alive. I have never before encountered a situation where I was tested to my limit in such a short amount of time. It got so miserable that at one point, I asked Nikki if we should just call it a day and turn back. Who cares, it’s just a lake anyway?! We decided it was time for a snack before anything else.

A Little Snack Does Wonders

Glucose does wonders to the brain and general morale. As soon as the snack went down, we decided to continue another 10 minutes to find the scree field, as it should be really close, and the kayakers had said that the scree field navigating got way better. This is such a tiny hike (300 meters gain, total) that we should be really close to the lake by then.

And of course, as soon as we got into this headspace, we found a tiny trail — the trail!!

Cirque Lake trail

This is what the trail looks like! Note the obvious orange flagging.

While the mosquito / fly massacre continued, we weren’t bushwacking hopelessly at the same time, so it became tolerable. Following the trail, we found the scree field, enjoyed views of Callaghan Lake below as promised, and we made it to the lake from the scree field in about 20/30 minutes. (At this point, I remembered that I’ve already been to Cirque Lake, on touring skis in winter.) I was glad to have my snowshoes, as there was some traversing on snow which became much more fun and less cautious with any sort of traction. The icy, snow-lined lake was indeed pretty, but I was actually more enamoured with the huge and sparkling Callaghan Lake.

Callaghan Lake

Looking back at my favourite, Callaghan Lake from the top of the climb to Cirque Lake. Journeyman Lodge would be to the right of Callaghan Lake. Photo by Alicia.

Snowshoeing

I was happy to bring my snowshoes, it made this little traverse from the top of the climb over to Cirque Lake way more fun. Especially downhill! Photo by Nikki.

 

Cirque Lake in July

Cirque Lake in early July after a huge snow year. Photo by Nikki.

On the way back, we paid special attention to follow the trail all the way back. After the scree field, the path got thinner and thinner. At first there was tiny orange flagging every so often, then it became animal trail-like, snow-covered, and devoid of any markers. Blending in with the ground around it, it was extremely hard to notice, and we understood why it was impossible on the way in. Emerging at the paddle boards after about 30 minutes down, we were stoked to avoid the bushwhack entirely on the way down, and finally discover where the “trailhead” lies.

Getting back to the paddleboards, I removed the beer from its natural cooler in the cold lake, and off we paddled back across Callaghan, searching for a bug-free area in this paradise to down it. All in all, this trip was hilarious and super fun. It tested us in new ways, and turned into an adventure we weren’t expecting. Definitely not bringing a big group here!

Things I would do differently!

  • Note follow the “route-finding” of misguided people who were clearly lost. Instead, have a GPS track of the route. It will save 1 hour of bushwacking!
  • Bug repellant!!!!
  • The best decision I made was bringing fleece pants. Pants were crucial for bug protection, having fun sliding in the snow, and for warmth when we got up higher.
  • Bring orange flagging tape to re-mark the route and trailhead as I go to help the next people!
  • Have 2 beers instead of 1.

For anyone who wants to do this and avoid the bushwhack / mosquito hell, the “trailhead” is in between two streams of the waterfall: it’s to the right of the main waterfall stream, and to the left of a smaller outflow. (Mind you, this is in early summer after a big snow year.) Of course, you will not see a trail sign or any indication of a trail there, but it is the path of least resistance, with minimal alder.

Brave Girls: inspiring female adventurers

I just watched an inspiring¬†TED talk by Caroline Paul:¬†To Raise Brave Girls, Encourage Adventure. For starters, Caroline¬†is an amazing role model: eloquent and intelligent, she’s also a paraglide captain, a firefighter, and she once attempted the world record for crawling. (She crawled for 12 hours!)

Caroline tells us how there is¬†a gender bias in promoting bravery at a young age: while young boys are encouraged to engage in “risky play”, young girls are often told to avoid risks, to be careful. I’m not going to lie, when I asked to play hockey at age 9, I was registered for¬†figure skating. (Although, I ended up finding a way to make that risky, attempting triple salchow over and over and over.)

This is part of the reason why Jo, Nancy and I made¬†Girls Gone Wilderness, to do a small part in shaping opportunities for young women to be tempted by¬†adventures that promote excitement, fun, and a bit of courage. It’s not always natural when we’ve been raised to see mostly guys doing adventure sports,¬†especially in biking, skiing, and the extreme adventures. (Ps! Our next event is almost sold out!)

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After watching Caroline’s TED talk, I wanted to go back in time and meet some of the most courageous women¬†throughout history. I went down a (wonderful) rabbit hole learning more about Katherine Switzer, (she broke the rules to become the first woman to run Boston¬†Marathon) and Lynn Hill, (she was the first person, male or female, to free-climb The Nose in Yosemite)¬†and Ann Trason (she broke, like, 20 world records in ultra-marathons). It was overwhelming, in a great way, and so I had to focus closer to home. ¬†Today’s blog¬†is about an¬†inspiring BC mountaineer, whose first ascent was Grouse Mountain!

Introducing Phyllis Munday

Local BC lady Phyllis Munday, born in 1894, had a lifelong mission in the mountains. The first woman to reach the summit of Mount Robson, she was unique not only for her first ascents, but for her style of achieving them: she and her husband Don achieved many first ascents together, even after having a family.

Phyllis and Don¬†pioneered routes in¬†some of BC’s most sacred¬†places, like Mount Waddington, where they spent over a decade of failed attempts. There is now a Mount Munday in the Waddington range (which, of course they summited, in 1930).

All this during a time when women weren’t really meant to even wear athletic attire:

Her male team members barely blinked when she’d stash her respectable city skirts somewhere on the trails and carry on in her bloomers. This was somehow less risqué than wearing trousers or knickerbockers.
Account from Experience Mountain Parks

To put this in perspective, when Phyllis was in her 4th or 5th attempts at Mount Waddington, US women had just gotten the right to vote, and women in Toronto still weren’t showing leg in public.

Time to do more, worry less. Like this time I had to crab-walk down a descent in the Rockies that scared me:

Terrified

Photo by Julien.

“Women, like men, should try to do the impossible, and when they fail, their failure should be a challenge to others” – Amelia Earhart

Featured image, by Tory Scholtz.