Another summer passes through and once again, no travel or visitors other than Steve and the grand-dog and cat. We had a late start, summer really didn’t get started until mid-July after many months of cool, wet weather, but after last year’s horror show of extreme heat events cool and wet was fine, no complaints there. I feel for those in Europe and south of the border whose turn it was this year to live through such extreme heat, drought and fires, and to those elsewhere on the planet affected by the other extremes of massive flooding. This year, for now at least, here on coastal British Columbia we have escaped the worst of the extremes. In our backyard this was also the best ever year for the fuchsias who don’t like the dry heat and usually collapse by late July – they’ve been looking great all season.

Our travelling has been limited to day trip hikes and there are a wealth of options within short drives from where we live. Here are some new explorations as well as an old favourite transformed.

Walking History – Cameron Lake Railway

On the way to the west coast of the island between here and Port Alberni, about half an hour’s drive from home, the road passes alongside Cameron Lake. I have long been curious to explore the far side of the lake, where I knew there was a trail along an old rail line built in 1911 which connected the coast to Port Alberni, long since abandoned. This summer I did a little research on how to find the trailhead and away we went.

Not too far in to the trail you come across a large, flat clearing where the old station used to stand. All the track is intact, along with remnants of machinery as I guess it would have been too difficult to take out given the steep terrain along the lake – it must have been a real challenge to build in the first place.

The trail. Slopes above and slopes below.

Evidence of human industry in the forest beside the track:

And beautiful wildflowers and mushrooms juxtaposed with the iron rails.

There are several trestle bridges along the way, built to solve the problem of the mountain’s steep slopes.

This was the first of the trestles along the way. I stood there for awhile looking at the dodgy looking timbers, the gaps between them in places and the long drop to solid ground, unmaintained since the rail track was abandoned. Nope. Not for me. Don’t wanna, can’t make me. Time to turn around.

Friends along the way:

Heading back out, passing the old station area. Way out in the background is the distant mountain with visible clear cuts. All across the mountain slopes of Vancouver Island are the highly visible patchwork of logging industry clear cuts. More on that later.

Finally a rest and a picnic on a little beach on the lake’s shore.

The Top of the World – Mount Washington

About an hour away from us are the ski slopes of Mount Washington, a popular place in the winter for skiers (not me) but also equally as wonderful in the summer. At the foot of the mountain are a series of easy trails around parts of the Forbidden Plateau (love that name) that are filled with alpine wildflowers and trees we don’t see where we are down at sea level on the coast. Our walk was not a long one but this is also the trailhead for much longer wilderness trails. We passed several groups of hikers laden with big backpacks full of the necessaries for multi-day hikes. Hardcore.

Below is the view from the plateau’s lakes up to the slopes of Mount Washington. I kept eyeing the top. I have to get up there!

Here’s how I hike to the top of a mountain – I catch a ride!:

View below the ski lift – what do you do when there’s no snow? Mountain biking.

Top of Mount Washington. This view looking down the island, with the waters and islands of the Strait of Georgia to the left, covered in the haze of this hot August day.

View over to the mountain range. I looked at this scene for awhile wondering what was wrong with what I was seeing. Then I got it. No clear cuts! That’s because this is part of the oldest provincial park in British Columbia (1911) – Strathcona Park – 250,000 hectares of rugged, mountainous wilderness in the centre of the island.

View to the west. Clear cuts behind an active mine foreground.

As we climbed on the ski lift to head back down my 20 year old Tilley hat (see my photo in the sidebar) blew off so we stayed onboard to go back up again to retrieve it. No worries, more time to enjoy this wonderful scenery on top of the world.

My Favourite Trail – China Creek

The China Creek trailhead is located about an hour’s drive away, past Port Alberni on the Bamfield Road to the west coast. The road is unsealed and after parking the car by the side of the road you literally have to run from car into the forest entrance, as passing vehicles, mostly logging trucks, kick up huge amounts of dust every minute or so. But once you make it in, you find a paradise of huge, dense forest along the most beautiful creek. Following the trail for a few kilometers, you finally reach some steep terrain – a bit challenging – but at the end the reward is the most beautiful waterfall falling between steep, tree covered cliffs. It is not a park, but is clearly well taken care of by volunteers who maintain the trail and the ropes to assist in the steep parts and build little log bridges over the wet parts where streams feed into the creek. In places the creek widens out into calmer pools of clear, inviting water, a good place to swim or just rest and enjoy. Very few people.

We’ve been visiting this place every summer for years now and this July we eagerly returned for the first time this year. As we made our way along the path through the dense, mixed forest along the creek, so happy to be back again, I announced out loud, “This is my favourite trail”. Famous last words.

And then we turned the corner. To find this:

The entire slope along the path was gone. This camera lens I was using doesn’t even begin to capture the depth and scale of the horror. I stood there in complete shock and couldn’t even move for awhile. A scene of complete violence, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. It went on and on like this as we continued walking for the next half hour. It’s not just about the removal of trees, the entire ecosystem had been destroyed – all the moss communities that were as old as the trees themselves, the ferns and understory plants, the seedling trees creating the next generation and all the habitat for countless species of insects, invertebrates, birds and mammals. All gone in a flash, thanks to the heavy machinery that they bring in to harvest timber in the most “efficient” way – by wiping out everything.

In silence we continued, to the place where the steep, rope assisted climb begins, and the cut slope swung away out of view. Eventually we descended to our destination. The falls.

After the long hike in, a picnic on the rocks surrounding the pool at the bottom of the 10 meter high falls, with this little guy on the rock in front of me for company:

A last look at a beloved place, before retracing our steps to hike back out past the carnage, heart broken as I know it will be the last time. Yesterday as I was putting this post together I came across a new word, a recent term making its way into the vocabulary:

Solastalgia – formed by the combination of the Latin words sōlācium (comfort) and the Greek root -algia (pain, suffering, grief), that describes a form of emotional or existential distress caused by environmental change.

Nothing left to do but lace up the hiking shoes, expand the perimeter and go in search of a new favourite place. But the sadness remains.