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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Sunday, September 11th
Finish work, and I'm off, I'm off, I'm off to Crystal Mountain.
I set my Odometer, driving, night, music playing as my phone charges, past Kaslo, past the Meadows, onto the gravel, past Poplar Creek, to the Gerard bridge, check your odometer. This is how you find the road, it's X Km past the bridge, there are a lot of false roads that go nowhere up here and I want to make sure I'm on the right one.
Time passes, the road up here, around the lake, it's full of hairpin turns, loose gravel and washboard, there's no speeding or making time. Then onto the logging road, it's rough, unmaintained, up, up, up 6KM until I reach the hairpin turn where it's time to go into 4WD.
I'm almost there, it's midnight, time for a quick swig before the final assault.
Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll wake up parked right in front of the digs, a full day of digging to get to the new ground, but what treasures I'll find...
Put it into 4WD, this last bit, that last 6 KM, they're the worst, nerves of steel and all that, trees down across the road, hardscrabble cobbles angling 30, 45 degrees up and pitched 20, 30 degrees to cliff-side.
Put it into 4WD and discover that you - all of a sudden have no gears whatsoever, every gear is neutral...
Futility. This, the raging against the machine. Switch gears, 4W-HI, 4W-LO, 2 WD, 2nd, 3rd, Reverse, Park, they're all the same, neutral. Angle the wheel, drift a few meters until the jeep stops.
Meh. Time for another swig.
THE GREAT VODKA SHORTAGE
Time to mention now the great Vodka shortage which saw all the liquor stores of BC run out anything worth drinking, and this bottle of Vodka, from Invermere, a full 750 ml, beautiful bottle, premium, $45.00, far above my budget and - really, it's shit. Sweet, and tasting somewhat of butterscotch, this is not to my liking at all but I'm a man of great focus and determination and sheer will and after a few shots have resigned my prejudices in service of finishing this lousy bottle...
Monday morning on the mountain, start the jeep, switch gears, nada. I'm going nowhere. The situation is much the same as the night before, only now I'm out of Vodka.
This, of course, is a trivial thing. Probably - upon slight consideration - a good thing.
There is the long hike down the mountain now to be considered - and postponed, I have food, supplies, I came here on a mission and I'm going to get something done...
So while the sun's high I get out and set out to explore the mountain. There are a few spurs up the mountain I've not explored, I set out to find their ends. One, an old cart track that I thought might lead to a mine, merely peters out into a clearing about 3 KM up. Back down. Up the main road and detour onto another old mining spur, arrive eventually in a moonscape of surface mining, black-baked greenstone schists, quartz, holes tunneled into the mountain, old timbers and shafts, an interesting view but the day, too grey and filled with smoke to warrant any good photos.
As the sun is going down arrive back at the jeep, what to do? What to do?
I read Henry Miller's "Wisdom of the Heart", trim my nails, cut my hair. Run the jeep to charge my phone. And while running the jeep there comes down from the mountain a new white F150, a couple of other prospectors from on high are returning and I'm blocking the road...
Turn the wheel, get out of the way, they pass and when they've gone I'm going down the mountain, reversing, there is no park, turning the wheel has unlocked gravity and it's rolling, rolling, rolling until finally I hit a level spot and it stops.
Now this could be a good thing or a bad thing, I'm not certain, rolling all the way down the mountain in reverse wouldn't be any fun, but it would curtail some certain imminent off-road recovery costs. And it would save me the 6 KM hike out. But - now at the level spot I can't seem to budge it, trying as I may to push it over a small hummock, I should have went easier on the brake, committed to getting out of here, but I'd also had the idea that Tuesday I'd hike up to the Crystal Digs and see what I could turn up.
So my lack of commitment to getting the hell out of here has cost me dear...
Tuesday morning, pack up what I can take with me, 100lbs of gear, clothes, sleeping bag, my computer, my work knapsack which I stupidly packed from work because it had my cell-phone charger in it which I thought I might need, 100 pounds of necessary shit, leaving behind another 300 pounds of unnecessary clothes, sleeping bags, picks, shovels, rosaries, The Glowing Virgin Mary, Maps, etc.
Down, down, down. It's a long walk. It takes about an hour and a half to get to the highway, the dirt road running around Trout Lake, set down my bags and wait.
After an hour and not a single car passing I realize that I'd better keep walking. So, at a guess about 10 or 12 KM from the hamlet of Trout Lake and I begin, counting down the KM marked beside the road. A logging truck passes. And probably I should have had my thumb out, but - logging trucks and I, we have a thing, and I'd rather walk.
About 7KM I'm passed by a little convoy of Alberta Plates. Thumb out, none stop.
Keep walking the dusty road.
By noon I'm coming into the town, 2 KM of outskirts for 1 square block of rural township, stop at the gas station - it looks long abandoned, but I've been here before, it isn't - wasn't - there's a bunch of fading and peeling signs up in the window, "Hours: 1:00-5:00", "Out of Gas", etc.
Walk the block past the (forestry station? Lumbermill? Construction Yard?) to the edge of town - and settle down to wait for a ride.
I'm exhausted. I've now done about 15 KM with 100 pounds of shit slung over my shoulders.
Every now and then a car leaves from one of the houses and drives to the gas station to - presumably - check to see if they have any gas.
None leave town.
The day is leisurely. About 1:30 I leave my bags beside the road and walk down to the gas station, they're open now, grab a coffee, some candy, they have vodka, but only 26's and 40's, too big, my desire for a drink is offset by the knowledge I'll have to carry it with me.
Wait. More cars coming up from the side-streets to check whether they have gas, then drive back home. None leaving town.
By 2:30 I'm seriously considering starting the walk towards the main highway. I work Thursday, at this rate I might not make it. I could do it but I'm already exhausted, shoulders are blistered and aching and I can feel muscles I never knew I had in my ass and thighs.
Somebody pulls over, offers me a ride, "Brian" from Trout Lake/Nakusp, and I'm saved, fucking bloody hell I'm saved...
From here things proceed quickly. Nakusp, grab a coffee at the service station, sit outside on the picnic basket and call the BCAA. A (relatively) short wait and I'm speaking to a representative.
BCAA
He's a little confused about the location of the Jeep. I explain it to him in precise detail, in KM from the Gerard Bridge, in KM from Trout Lake, but he can't find it on his map. I explain it's a logging road, approximately 5 KM up, and still he can't find it on his map. He doubts me.
And then he asks why I'm not with the vehicle. I should have stayed with the vehicle.
And I explain that the vehicle, my Jeep, it's 100 KM out of cell range, that I had to walk 15 KM into Trout Lake to catch a ride to Nakusp where I could get cell reception and as soon as I had cell reception I called them to let them know. Should I now hitchhike back to Trout Lake and walk back the 15 KM to wait with my vehicle?
...well, no, probably not, but - but....I should have stayed with the vehicle.
I don't know what to say in the face of such futile bureaucracy.
Somewhere, from the conversation I'm guessing Saskatchewan, there's a BCAA call agent that's looking out a window thinking that he should be able to see my vehicle, that there must be a clear line of sight to it for it to be recovered...
Thumb out on the highway, about 15 minutes before I'm picked up by an RCMP car that gives me a ride to New Denver, from New Denver to Silverton in another 10 minutes, then after about 40 minutes from Silverton to Passmore. And here I'm close enough that I can arrange a pick up and spend the night in Nelson eating Tacos.
Wednesday afternoon I get the call from Kaslo. They left the night before, 4:00, spent 7 hours out there, couldn't find the jeep. And I'm asking if they got the directions, they were precise, and he begins with "well, you know, those calls, they go to Kathmandu and then get forwarded to the Philippines before .... we get them" and I know, know damn well they didn't go search for the jeep, they want to pass on the job to an "expert", no one around here knows 4WD, can even do an oil-change, truthfully, between you and me, so really, I wouldn't mind if they referred this to so-and-so out of Nakusp, he's a wizard, does this stuff all the time, a real pro, 4WD, he can change oil too....
I get it. No one from Kaslo wants to go and get my jeep.
The call is referred to Nakusp. And the next day I'm talking to a very different tow truck driver who understands clear and precise directions and retrieves my jeep.
Friday evening, Jeep in Kaslo, call from Mechanic, fixed, temporarily, sort of, probably the best they can do, and so - come Monday I'll be recovering it.
Thus concludes last weeks adventures.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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And a return to Golden, via the Map to the nearest entry to Sodalite Creek. And - this map-book is outdated, many new roads are unmarked and driving all night I find myself high up on unmarked logging roads, the night air is chill, cold even. I blaze a new road, Radium to Golden, I've never been, it's beautiful, pastoral, the sun setting behind the peaks, from Golden down logging road and logging road...
Morning finds me high up on an uncharted mountain, it takes some driving to find my bearings. And eventually I arrive at the "X" I've marked on the map, only to find there is no trail, the map is not the territory, and so this is a bust.
Once again to Revelstoke, North to the Mica Dam, 150 KM of fine asphalt, no traffic, a beautiful autumn evening, too hot in the day and now I've the heater on, following the setting sun into valleys filled with shadow, out, exploring the lakeside past the dam, there are the rocks but the lake is still too high, and this, too, is a bust.
And so it seems that this entire summer, more time off than ever and less finds, and - I know, I know it's all here, but somehow I am missing it...
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Which was the longest weekend ever. All weekend long. No idea what to expect for business, hopes for it to be quieter were thwarted, they came and they came and they came, without respite - and you're forever cleaning other peoples tables, washing others dishes, and rolling cutlery late into the night.
And then - finally, late on Sunday night - we've taken to closing Monday/Tuesday - we're done.
Bloody hell, every summer manages to be longer than the last.
But, there's a saving grace, the "Year End" party is running still, until Monday, and so I round up a couple of survivors and we head off to the rave.
And a merry time is had by all, until the next morning when I'm off on other adventures...
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And, while I don't play I had opportunity to watch the family, from which I managed to figure a few things out:
That the entire sport comprises of counseling your opponent on how to do better - improve their swing, posture, stance. And whoever offers the "best advice" wins. Thus it is a game played largely in the minds and executed on the course.
I found it amusing...
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August 22nd, 23rd, 24th. Castlegar, Grand Forks, Up through Penticton, Oliver, Kelowna, Monday is the worst day off, there are no thrift or antique stores open. Unless you count Value Village, which is less "thrift" than expensive retail. The heat, a blast furnace through the windows, my window as AC is not working...I'm surviving the Summerland Corridor by taking advantage of every McDonalds I pass, buy a pomegranate smoothie, a coke zero, coffee, fortunately there's an abundance. By dusk I'm through Enderby, the freshly spread manure evincing a nostalgia for a childhood in Saskatchewan, the associated memories; the smell, not so good, not so bad, but the memories...
These days off I'm a full on trash panda, eating the worst of possible foods, this I've noticed - one can eat badly, or eat very well, for very little difference in expense - but you need to know where to go.
I'm having little luck, hitting all the worst places...
First night, north of Revelstoke, in the sight of Snow Covered Peaks, cool evening air in through the window.
Morning, lugnuts now on Passenger rear are loose, 1 bolt sheared off, need to get more.
Revelstoke - I need a map, buy a mapbook to the Kootenays, then Golden, on my way to the Ice River - about 50 KM from Golden, the day spent sifting gravel, looking at stones, the bright blue of sodalite shows up in one, a irridescent green tourmaline crystal, tiny, in another. Otherwise a cool day getting filthy in a beautiful setting.
I need a magnet to sort my concentrates, possibilities of platinum, other rare earths being discarded in pan after pan, it wouldn't be the first time...
From here to Kinibasket lake, been meaning to explore, the first 30 KM logging road empty, schists and large rusty quartz boulders that suggest the possibility of gold, there are hundreds of KM of shoreline to be explored here, to make any sort of headway I need a boat....
Gas on the highway, $1.99/litre, I'm getting gas here, there, the Rogers Pass eats it up.
Back to 3-Valley Gap, the remembering of my mother driving in the winter, the car spinning, miraculously we didn't end up in the lake, childhood moving from Vancouver to Revelstoke - familiarity, memories forgotten restored. Past Twee roadside attractions, the Enchanted Forest, Go-Carts, Mini-Golf. Driving Ranges, all the things to keep the tourists happy.
And at night Truckers pushing you from behind, this section of the highway is horrible, every trucker trying to make up for time lost climbing the Rogers Pass, this jeep, it's good, but the speed limit only, and this pressure, 1 lane, truckers on your ass, it's a nightmare.
Finally, Wednesday, the route back to Vernon, Through Salmon Arm, Sicamous, a never ending array of dismal thrift Shops. All the shops I'd ever passed and never had a chance to stop at, or passed when they were closed. In Enderby a shop that specializes in rusty old hubcaps and lug-wrenches, no kidding, a lot of curiosity squandered here on nothing.
And all day I've stopped at new thrift shops, shops I'd never seen before, antique shops, and all I've seen is rubbish.
But the two shops in Vernon - well, the one, I ask about an old watch and the proprietor, friendly pulls out a full box of them, old new-stock, a variety of watches, some garbage, some better, none I don't have or need. But it's nice he went to the effort. There's an older blonde lady, a clerk, his wife (??) that keeps pulling stools up in front of me and climbing them and lifting her skirts so I have a clean view of her ankles and then smiling brazenly at me. Awkward.
These days, dog-days of August, hot as hell, fucking bloody hell.
And I walk across the street and this - this is it.
This antique shop, 3 cabinets filled to the brim with Antique wristwatches, Omegas, Rolex, Tudors, various no-names of curious aesthetics, and fountain pens.
One of 3 cabinets filled with fountain pens and old watches.
I'm going mad.
I look at them all, there's some good ones for sure - but one, the Omega Speedmaster priced at $1500.00, it's caught my eye.
I go outside, sit down and think about it. GO for a walk and check a few other thrift and pawn shops, then head back.
This trip - 3 days, I've spent $600 in gas, another $200 in food, what's another $1500 on a Speedmaster?
A lot. Winter is coming, soon, soon, sooner than I think.
I ask the proprietor of this shop about it. And - unlike the other shop owner, he's disinterested, doesn't know anything about it, doesn't offer to show it to me.
And by not showing he's saved me $1500 bucks, because if I'd a held it in my hands I would have bought it.
I give it up, head on, stop in Lumby for Chinese and Western Cuisine, to escape the heat, freezer-burned fried rice, the CCP - Corn, Carrots, Peas, disgusting. How do you make Chinese and Western food more disgusting than it generally is? Somehow they've done it.
And from here, onward, and home, the end of the weeks adventures.
A better thrift shop with some cool old-ish ventriloquist dolls. Too expensive, too plastic...
An antique curling iron apparatus from an old hair salon. Which suggests to me a variety of kinky repurposing...I should have got a price...
Sunset over the Roger's Pass....