Choose a path, get the gear, and go. I found myself exploring a latter part of the Okanagan High Rim Trail. After 9 kms of dirt road, I found the trail head, along with an old rusted and
beat up truck. I don't even know how they got it in there, it was surrounded by trees, hood up, windows smashed, spray painted...left me with an eerie feeling as I walked through the woods. With every step I pulled cob webs along my skin, trying not to go a little nuts. No one had been here in a while. After 15 minutes, going the wrong direction once and back tracking, I found the trail: completely impassable. Dead fall covered a steep slope leading to the creek below. I had to turn back. I briefly debated leaving altogether and just going to the beach but talked myself into finding the other side of the trail and going North instead.
I came upon a clear cut. Moose tracks. Blueberries. Quiet. Revisiting my map often, I decided to walk until the next trail head divider, 5 kms away. I kept myself happy and any bears at bay by clapping, singing old grateful dead songs, talking to the birds and myself. It was tough; single track cleared by deer interspersed with quad trails. Finally, I reached the bridge just prior to my destination, I sat to take it all in -by now quite adjusted to the cob webs coating my skin. The creek water was WARM. It was a 34 degree day.
After lunch, heading back was not so simple. I cleared the cedar forest and moved across the gravel to follow the quad track out. "um.... where'd the flagging tape go?" Rustling. Fuck. Clap my hands louder. Okay, let's try back tracking. I returned to the clearing. No flagging tape but where I had previously emerged from. Fuck. Must be the right way. Okay, let's try again. Back down the trail. Birch and Poplar trees crooked over the path...I don't remember those; was I just not paying attention? Another 15 minutes. Snorts and breathing from the trees. Fuck. Clap and sing a song "I don't know where I will go, can't find the path oh no oh no, I'll be alright come Postill Road"...
This can't be right. Go back. Back to the clearing, back past the noise ( no longer but still with dread). I scour the trees. And then...there it is. A small hole in the woods, barely visible pink and black striped flagging tape behind the tree ....exhale. Had I truly come from there? Of course. And the walk back was simple. Quiet. No more hand clapping. No more fear. Quiet that listens to the birds. I realise with giggles that even a small sparrow can make a loud rustling.
Past the ripped pair of shorts, scare a small buck in the clear cut, and find the car. Legs aching, sun baking, breathe.
I drove out of there with time to swim in the lake and cool off, completely overwhelmed by the juxtaposition of being completely lost and alone in the woods far from Kelowna, to being surrounded by bikinis, ice cream, and all of the nonsense that people feel the need to bring to the beach in order to have a good time. All of me torn - so happy to be surrounded by humans/so put off by the excess.
Next time, I don't think I'll go it alone.
