Hiking

Burnaby Mountain: 500 stairs, mud and hot chocolate


What better way to get wet than to go outside in December in Vancouver?

Today Jeff and I decided to get wet in style by hiking up Burnaby Mountain with his Vancouver Mountain Biking group. There were nine of us altogether and we started out near the base of the mountain on North Road. As with the bike ride yesterday the sky was again filled with clouds and the promise of much rain to come. As we headed out the weather held, though. Those of us dressed in cotton were thankful.

Burnaby Mountain is not exactly out in the boonies but the trails can still be rugged and demanding. There are points where the hydro wires are tucked out of view and the latest condo developments can’t be seen and you can almost believe you’re truly out in the wilderness. It helps if you stumble across a bear, too, which Jeff has done. The bears are smart enough to sleep through a Vancouver winter, though.

The ascent was on trails rated from easy to advanced. The easy stuff is just that — the grade allows for a leisurely pace and lots of idle chatter. When we reached Velodrome Trail (handy PDF of Burnaby Mountain trails) a sign at the bottom notified us that there were 500 wooden stairs leading up. Way up.

500 stairs is a lot of stairs. My excellent math and engineering skills tell me it worked out to the equivalent of 20-30 storeys. It took me back to the one time I walked up to the 15th floor of the apartment building I lived in ages ago. The one time.

When we reached the top we took a few minutes to pose for pictures, take in the totem poles and look up to the oh-so-expensive Horizons restaurant. That wasn’t what a bunch of sweaty, grubby hikers want so we continued on to the SFU campus in search of a simpler cafe. The SFU buildings were eerily quiet given the semester break and one hallway was completely unlit, as if it was auditioning for a part in a horror movie. We continued on until we got to Renaissance Coffee. They serve their free range/organic or whatever it was beverages in cups that feel all comfy and quilted. Jeff and I had hot chocolate, me going for the small, Jeff opting for hill giant size. I added a chocolate chip muffin, convinced I had burned sufficient calories on the way up.

Sated, we headed out and the rain had returned. Those of us who had brought non-cottony jackets donned them, the others prepared for The soaking. We headed down an unofficial trail that required lots of skidding, jumping and light praying. We all made it down intact, fortunately.

All told, it was a fun combination of easy and hard, everyone was friendly and chatty and no limbs were broken.

The stats:

Total distance: 11 km
Average pace: 3.7 km/h
Total elevation gained: 1132m
Total descent: 1201m
Total time: 3 hours

Small gallery of photos available here.

Danger! Fish! Hiking the Coquitlam River Trail

Today, with the weather forecast promising showers, we opted against Jeff’s planned trip to Dog Mountain, as it would take us up into the snow and snow with rain is one of the suckiest weather combos around. Instead, we headed over to the Coquitlam River Trail for a little under 3-hour hike. Unlike Baden-Powell, the river trail features little elevation gain and is relatively flat, so it was not as strenuous a workout, though I did pick up the pace a fair bit on our return.

With an overcast sky but mild temperatures, we set out sans jackets, with the plan to walk the trail to the point where one must ford the river. As it’s a bit deep this time of year and neither of us were carrying any portable watercraft, we would then reverse direction and head back the way we had come.

This was a nice, even relaxing hike. The trail at times moves far enough away from the river and any obvious signs of civilization to create the illusion that you are out there all on your own.  We actually never encountered anyone going in, only on the way back. The most distinctive part of the hike–apart from several large and ripe patches of skunk cabbage growing in pond water–were the numerous points where parts of the river crosses the trail. One especially big one (check the photo gallery for more) probably discourages the casual types from proceeding farther, especially at this time of year when non-waterproof footwear means cold and soggy feet. I was happy to just make it across without falling in.

The red arrow on the sign is a bit confusing, as it points away from the trail but if you cast your eyes to the left there are no immediate private property signs that I could see, either, so I dunno. Mystery red arrow!

There are several fish traps near the start of the trail with big ol’ warning signs. This is part of a conservation effort, as the signs explained. I just like the incongruity of something as innocuous as ‘Fish Study in Progress’ being prefaced with DANGER.

We had some light snacks at the point where the river intersects the trail then stopped for lunch at Crystal Falls, where a mother/daughter biking duo and another group with a small dog were also taking pictures/resting. Jeff posed for a pic up close and personal with the waterfall and picked out his steps so carefully I could practically hear the calculations for each footstep in my mind.

As we got back to the truck the first few drops of rain began to fall, but the showers held off until we had packed everything up and headed out. All in all, a nice little excursion. The only downside was me apparently incubating a nasty flu bug the entire hike, which struck a couple of hours later. Weird how that sneaks up on you like some clever sneaky thing.

Gallery:

Baden-Powell rocks (and sucks)

The best part of hiking the 2.5 hours we did on a segment of the Baden Powell trail today on the North Shore was probably the weather. It was the first time it’s been warm enough to go sans jackets. In fact, I could have worn shorts and been just as comfy.

The first half of the hike or so was fine, despite our primary destination being a place called Mosquito Creek. After 20 minutes or so I dubbed the path we were on The Snake as it was very undulating, winding left and right and also moving up and down regularly through gulleys, with relatively dense forest that afforded no real views (we did get to one near someone’s private residence that gave a decent view across to Vancouver). After crossing a large footbridge the trail shifted as it began to ascend along a narrow and rock-strewn path. In fact it was so narrow and rock-strewn that the constant looking down and carefully placement of my feet began to give me mild vertigo. As I have a sense of balance that would best be described as ‘not all there’ I felt fortunate not to plunge to my doom or at the very least stub a toe. We kept on for some time at a slow pace, picking our way among the roots and rocks. By the time we forded another stream by crossing a fallen log I was about ready to turn back. Fortunately I had to be home to feed the dog so I had a convenient excuse at the ready!

Here is the only picture taken on the hike — by Jeff, as I took none. The detail isn’t sufficient to really see the ‘Are we there yet?’ look on my face and looking at this, it occurs to me that a bright red shirt is probably the wrong color to be wearing as bears start coming out of hibernation.

All in all this was not a hike I’m eager to repeat, as too much of it felt more like climbing rather than hiking and I want to hike, darn it.

 

Here be tourists: The Two Canyon Loop hike

On a partly cloudy and mild (two digits!) day Jeff and I went out on the Two Canyon Loop, a hike in and around Lynn Creek and the Seymour River up in the North Shore mountains. This particular route provided some nice variety in the terrain, from comfortable straight stretches down alongside the Seymour Rive to steep ascents up stairs and rock to impressive views looking down into the Lynn Valley Canyon from several bridges, one of the suspension variety.

The Lynn Valley suspension bridge was host to a wedding party taking photos in the center of the span when we got there. The many people gathered on either side politely waited for them to finish, which didn’t take long, then proceeded to clog up the narrow span to the point where I got halfway across and gave up. That’s kind of like swimming halfway across a lake and deciding it’s too far, I know, but I hate crowds on narrow, bouncy spaces high above raging rivers. It’s just the way I am.

There was another bridge of the regular flat, non-swaying/bouncing variety earlier in the hike with a similar view. It was pretty much deserted.

A short way past the suspension bridge is a pool that is apparently a popular, if dangerous, diving spot. This sign was posted nearby:

I am not sure why someone carefully excised the letters from ‘caution’ so it would read ‘urged to use extreme ca on’. It doesn’t even sound naughty. I do like that it warns the area has claimed many lives, not just one or two. Many. I guess a lot of people don’t read or the sign is recent. Or both. The no alcohol/fires part may as well be addressed, ‘Dear local teenagers’. Yes, I’m stereotyping but come on, you can picture it. A warm summer night, a bunch of drunk giddy kids skinnydipping and taking photos with their iPhones and simultaneously tweeting and, uh, Facebooking, about it:

LOL Dave is totaly naked lol and the water is SOOOOOO cold!!!!

OMG Dave hit his head diving some1 shuld call that 911 number!!!!

I think I here a bear and — (tweet ends here)

The staircase in that picture goes up an impressive ways. There’s a photo taken about halfway up in the gallery, located here.

The start of the hike took us along the Seymour River and through some areas that were used for mining back in the 1800s. There’s even a spooky old tunnel that was carved into a hillside for a pipeline. It’s kind of odd because the miners/loggers also built a two lane road (now the pedestrian trail) right next to it. Did curved piping not get invented until the 20th century or something? Maybe they had time to kill. At any rate, the tunnel was dark and spooky, as all old tunnels ought to be. We also came across an intriguing wooden archway that I imagined might lead to the lair of the Sasquatch or the site of strange forest rituals. It turned out to just be a short trail to the river.

The total time of the hike was about three hours and we took two breaks, the first under the powerlines, using the (modern) pipeline as a makeshift bench. To my consternation, there were mosquitoes about already. Then again, the place was also swarming with tourists, something else I hadn’t expected in late March. We dined on yummy dried apricots and trail mix all the same. When the sun came out it actually became too warm for three layers and we doffed our jackets. Near the end of the hike the sun hid away and it cooled enough for us to put the jackets back on. All hail the layering system!

We nearly took a wrong turn toward the end of the hike that would have added about 45 minutes to the trip but Jeff’s direction intuition kicked in and we asked a group about which way to head and they pointed us the right way. All hail those who know which way to go! Next time we’ll use the GPS.

This was a nice all-around trek, a perfect way to spend a few hours on a weekend afternoon.

Two Valley Loop photo gallery

Brothers Creek -or- The wrong way to avoid snow

Today’s hike started around mid-morning and though we didn’t keep accurate track of the time it took approximately three hours in total.

With the destination chosen just minutes before leaving, we headed out to Brothers Creek on the North Shore. Following a hiker’s directions printed off from trailpeak.com we made our way to the entrance, already a fair way up the mountain. With a million dollar home sitting just below where the truck was parked, we headed past a giant sign erected by British Pacific Properties Ltd that essentially said “If you go past this gate and something bad happens to you, you promise never to sue us. If it’s clearly our fault, it’s still your fault. No suing allowed!”

The million dollar home had a thin layer of snow across its luxuriously-appointed patio, so our plans to avoid all snow on hikes seemed less than promising. The weather, on the other hand, was spectacular, with clear skies and temperatures hovering just below freezing.

The trail starts out as an emergency access road and as it continues upward through a number of switchbacks it narrows and becomes more of a regular hiking trail. The walking stick was definitely seeing some use here. The snow was thin and in patches to start and in some spots it was easier to actually walk on it rather than navigate across the icier bits of the path. As we continued to ascend the ratio of snow to exposed ground grew until we were up to our knees and in a few spots even deeper.

It is telling that the first four people we met (all on the way back, as there was not a soul up ahead of us) had snowshoes.

When we reached Brothers Creek itself the snow was piled up on the bridge above the railings. We elected to not continue on the loop that may or may not have taken us back to where the truck was parked and instead chose to take the 1.67 km detour off to a lake up yonder. It was here that we noticed the only real tracks in the snow were from snowshoes. We pressed on, the trail completely covered under deep snow, with only occasional markers on the trees serving as reliable guides. We came to a bridge of sorts. It was difficult to tell what it might have looked like in warmer months but now it was a tall and very narrow snow-covered line, with a cone-shaped hole in the snow leading down to icy water on one side and, well, just plain old icy water on the other. I talked Jeff into going first.

A little farther on we came to a point where it looked like our snowshoeing adventurer had some trouble determining where the trail was. Rather than crossing at the actual bridge over the creek here he had chosen to make his way on a loop along the edge of the creek and then cross through some brambles at a point where the creek narrowed. We spotted the bridge a ways to the southeast. It was very low and nearly obliterated under what was at least two meters of snow. Like the previous snow bridge, this one was very narrow but with the added bonus of not reaching all the way across, necessitating a small jump. Again, I volunteered Jeff to go first. I followed after, opting to use an extended walking stick from him to help complete the last step.

After making our way across the creek we found the snowshoe tracks came to an end. The actual trail, probably 10 meters or so away, was buried under virgin snow. We looked at our snowshoe-less feet and decided to turn back.

On the way back I totally psyched myself on the jump by spending way too much time thinking about it. I eventually made it, as the detour around it was too long. Convenience conquers fear!

We stopped at Lost Lake to have a stand-up lunch (nowhere to sit in those huge drifts of snow). Lost Lake was truly lost — completely buried under a thick blanket of snow. I forgot to take a picture. Oh well.

The return trip had us pass by three couples — a young man and woman with snowshoes, a couple of older men also with snowshoes and a pair of Australians, one of whom was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He asked if there would be any ‘bairs’. We assured him that they were all too smart to come out in all this silly snow like us humans. The final group we met back at the entrance, a young threesome. One woman excitedly asked us if there was much snow up higher. When we replied that there was indeed snow aplenty she seemed positively delighted. Could not have been a local.

While it was a bit disappointing that we couldn’t complete the loop or get to the lake up top, it was still a great hike, with nearly perfect weather, some majestic old growth forest and a beautiful blanket of snow covering it all.

For reference, here’s the bridge at Brother’s Creek as seen in the summer:

And here’s what it looked like when we got to it:

Full gallery.

 

Buntzen Lake or A Bridge Too Far (Submerged)

The forecast for today was for rain and rain it did. Regardless, a little damp weather was not going to stop us from spending the afternoon hiking around the entirety of Buntzen Lake.

Because of high water some trails were closed and numerous signs warned us to add 2-3 hours to our trek. We arrived at 10:30 a.m. and the gate to the park is locked at 5 p.m. so we were confident that with the 5-7 hour total estimate we’d be out long before we got locked in with the squirrels and monsters (for the record, I didn’t actually see any squirrels or monsters, though someone was walking a toy dog dressed in a pink raincoat bright enough to serve as a beacon.

We parked in the northern-most parking lot and started north along the east side of the lake, heading up a service road as the first section of trail on this side was closed due to the high water. We then hit the cleverly-named Buntzen Lake Trail proper (it just occurred to me that the acronym is BLT — mmm, BLT) and stayed on it to the suspension bridge at the north end of the lake (less than a meter above the water at this time of year). A short way past the bridge the trail turns back south and splits, with delicious BLT on the left and Lakeview Trail heading up and to the right. As you can see in the close-up shot below, our decision at this junction was easy as the Buntzen Lake Trail was completely submerged. Up the ridge we went!

There were a few steep sections on the Lakeview Trail but I didn’t regret passing on the walking stick this time. We reached the one official lookout about halfway through our trek and stopped for a snack and some water. This gave us the best view of the lake, with low cloud scudding through the valley as the rain continued to pour steadily. Speaking of the rain, we passed someone carrying an umbrella. That seems a bit silly, especially considering how steep the climb gets in a few spots, not to mention that it’s very difficult to escape getting your feet covered in muck and mire, so it’s not like an umbrella is going to keep you clean and dry out here. As proof, I planted my foot in one especially juicy section of mud and it was rather intent on keeping the boot for itself. I managed to wiggle the boot free, cherishing my triumph over nature as I did so.

We eventually reached what would have been near to the end of the hike at the floating bridge, but it too was closed due to that whole being-completely-underwater thing. This forced us to extend our hike around the southern tip of the lake, around and up to Academy Trail before we eventually reconnected to the parking lot we started from.

Our total time ended up being a fairly brisk 3 hours and 10 minutes. I spent the time saved soaking in the tub back at the condo.

Overall it was a good hike. There were a few more people out braving the rain than I had expected and a few times we caught up to others ahead of us and I felt that ol’ ‘gotta pass’ thing kick in. I swear I am not a competitive person by nature!

Clothing-wise, the two weak points for me were my baseball cap, which was okay at keeping my head dry but didn’t fit snugly, forcing me to constantly re-adjust it. This led to a slight rash on my forehead. Nothing major, but annoying. I need a hiking hat. My gloves became soaked about 2/3 of the way through, leaving my fingers a bit cold for the last hour or thereabouts, so I’m definitely going to look for a water-resistant/inner layer glove system for future treks.

Note for future hikes: Do not let Jeff carry the potato chips, as he apparently keeps them secured under rocks. 😛

Our route below starts at the northern parking lot and follows the service road to where the first viewpoint is on #4 (Buntzen Lake Trail). We stayed on #4 past the suspension bridge before switching to #8 (Lakeview Trail). We stayed on #8 until we crossed the road south of the lake and headed back up #9 (Academy Trail). Here’s the full PDF map file on BC Hydro’s website and the page the map is linked from here.

Buntzen Lake Trail Tour 2011
Sponsored by Jack Johnson (well, he was playing on the iPod in the truck, anyway)

And some photos of the hike.

Bike at 12 o’ clock! (hiking Burnaby Mountain)

Today Jeff and I hiked up Burnaby Mountain for an hour, completing our trek in about an hour instead of the expected two. It was the first time I’d be on a mixed use trail, in this case one for both cyclists (specifically of the genus mountain bike extremus) and hikers. Within moments of ascending we had our first cyclist wheeling down toward us. Since they have momentum and it’s difficult, if not dangerous, for them to try to stop, we obligingly hopped out of the way each time.  I was a bit uncomfortable with this at first but everyone was so dang polite it didn’t bother me after awhile.

Then we didn’t seem any more riders.

The climb was milder than the one we did last week at Buntzen Lake but we gained a few hundred meters of elevation, at least, and some of the parts we climbed are apparently considered advanced, according to maps (see below).

No pictures since there was only one small lookout along the way, but I may take some if we return.

The route we took is seen below. We began on the road, walked east and headed up Nicoles Trail, over to Gear Jammer, down to Function Junction and finally down the aptly-named Lower Snake Trail (switchbacks ahoy!) before coming back to our starting point on Pipeline Trail. Not a bad little workout and the weather was very cooperative — clear and a few degrees above freezing.

Trail map:

And the relevant part of the legend:

Take a hike! (to Buntzen Lake)

Today Jeff and I went for a hike in the Buntzen Lake area. I am a hiking newbie still but Jeff kindly furnished me with a walking stick for additional stability, balance and to fend off marauding bears.

Rather than hike around the lake itself, which has an elevation gain of a little over 100m, Jeff plotted a course up the Halvor Lunden trail which would take us up to the top of Eagle Ridge and a total elevation climb of about 1020m. We made pretty good time heading up but somewhere past 600m up the trail became snow-covered. Normally this would not be an issue but the cover was fairly thin and had frozen, making it pretty much ice. Just past Polytrichum Lookout at 680m or so, the trail becomes very steep and narrow and the ice was a little unforgiving without having claws of steel attached to your boots. After continuing up a ways we elected to turn around and head back down.

Although it didn’t seem like we had climbed very far up Treacherous Icy Slope, making our way back down took longer than expected, with each step falling into the ‘be very careful so you do not go head-first the rest of the way down’ category.

We arrived safely back in the park and ate lunch in the sun at Buntzen Lake proper. For five minutes. Not that we finished lunch in five minutes, that’s how long the sun shone on our table before it moved on. Pesky winter sun. Everyone in the area seemed to have a camera. I did, too, and took some pics, which can be found in the Buntzen Lake gallery.

Here is one of them, a close-up shot of The Pulpit, the rocky outcropping at the top that we did not quite reach.

[singlepic id=125 w=640 h=480 float=none]

It was an enjoyable outing despite not ultimately reaching our goal. There were no falls, bears and the weather was about perfect for this time of year — sunny and a touch above freezing with no wind.