Day 8 – Sunday, July 8, 2018
Bowron Lake
We got up before 9 a.m., which is kind of early for us lately (hey, it’s vacation), to prepare for our day at Bowron Lake. And what a day it was.
Conditions were cloudy and a bit cool—normal—so we took no mind of this as we began our 28 km trek up Bowron Lake Road.
And lo, there was a bear! But this time we were safely encased in a giant metal and fiberglass structure. Also, it was an adorable little black bear that totally ignored us as it hunted for grubs, berries or leftover Snickers bars by the side of the road. It was on the left, so I handed Jeff my camera—er, phone—and he snapped a bunch. Here’s one of the better ones. Think of the rear-view mirror as adding perspective or context or something. It ain’t easy taking pictures from a moving vehicle, especially when you’re driving it.
We continued on, leaving the bear to forage when lo! There was another much larger black bear on the right side of the road. I rolled down my window (kids, don’t try this at home) to get a good shot (a photo, that is, I’m not the hunting type), but this bear had obviously had conversations with humans before and didn’t like what it heard, so it crashed off into the brush before I could capture photographic evidence, elusive as Bigfoot.
We are now up to 3.5 bear sightings.
It began to shower as we got closer to Bowron Lake, but this again is normal; we thought nothing of it.
The shower eased up as we arrived and went to the camp registration/info center. It had a cool-looking 3D relief map of the entire lakes area. There are seven lakes that connect in roughly a giant square, and people canoe between them, over periods ranging from seven to eleven days. Then they celebrate with Slurpees.
Unfortunately, it turns out if you don’t have a canoe, there’s not much else to do, as there’s no real biking to be had, and trails are minimal (most of them are for portaging between lakes). Undeterred, we went off on the Osprey Trail, so named because it was lovingly built by a pair of kindly old ospreys.
This one km interpretive trail has signs highlighting the flora and fauna and fish of the area as it skirts near to the lake and then back up to the campground.
This is when the bad thing happened. A thing called mosquito. I have talked—nay, complained—about the mosquitoes at length, but all of that was, as they say, penny ante stuff. Here, by the lake, the mosquitoes are the main indigenous form of life. They are legion. They are hungry. And we had no Off!
I wore my jeans and jacket, so escaped largely unscathed, but Jeff, in shorts and t-shirt, got his exposed flesh turned into a mosquito pincushion. We left the trail and headed back through the camp to the truck, where we would divert to take the one accessible portage trail, miming a canoe being carried over our heads. Jeff went to use an outhouse and I bent over to tie my left shoe. As I did this—holding myself in place for a few moments—I was swarmed with mosquitoes and got three bites between my two hands in the time it took to tie the lace. I’m just glad I don’t have more hands, really.
This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I uttered colorful metaphors, both at the mosquitoes, and more generally to anyone in hearing range. When Jeff came along I told him that this felt less like vacation and more like punishment and that my idea of fun did not include clouds of mosquitoes attacking me.
We left.
Jeff was not happy, though I made it clear I only wanted to leave the lake, not the entire area. Nonetheless, we later agreed that we would pull up stakes a few nights early and leave the Barkerville area tomorrow morning, heading south to stay a day or two in some yet undetermined but warmer and likely sunnier location. Jeff’s tan has faded from very brown to merely brown while we’ve been here, so he has some catching up to do. My tan is more subtle this year. So subtle it’s not even a farmer’s tan.
Also we ate the last of the fudge today, so there really is no point in staying.
We’ll have a last campfire tonight (it’s not raining as I write this at 3:30 p.m.), but that could change or be cut short, as it’s gotten wetter the longer we’ve been here. Maybe we’ll just have the fire in the rain, anyway, to show Mother Nature who’s boss.
In all, Barkerville and area has been an interesting and colorful experience, and if I had a robot body made of steel I would probably have enjoyed it even more. Still, we saw the town, got some hiking in and some good cycling, too. On a scale of 1 to 10 Happy Sasquatches, I rate this part of our trip 7 Happy Sasquatches.
UPDATE We had a campfire! In fact the sky totally cleared and it was sunny for the rest of the day, as if to mock us.
We made S’mores again and I lit one of my marshmallows on fire, as tradition dictates. After we ate them I heard a loud crack similar to the report of a gun on a TV show. In other words, not a real gun. And then I found out what a bear banger is. No, it’s nothing naughty, it’s a .22 caliber projectile that creates a big BOOF—the technical term as used by Jeff—and a spark of light. It’s used to alert others to a bear in the area. One was fired nearby and all the kids that had been playing down the road ran back to camp and made a lot of noise, presumably to scare the bear off. It almost scared me off.
Jeff tamped down the fire and we headed inside around 9:30 p.m., which is like midnight camping time. It was a nice way to end the day.
Addendum
I was happy to pay extra to get electrical for our campsite because it allows us to leave all the lights on and waste energy, just like at home. Not that we actually do that, mind you, but we could, if we wanted.
But for all the luxuries we have in this modern recreational vehicle, I don’t think in a thousand years I would ever get used to the shower. It’s like having a shower in a two-thirds demonstration unit of a real shower. It’s like having a shower in a shoe box. What I’m saying is it’s small. But the water is nice and warm and I get to improve my dexterity by washing myself without banging body parts into the walls, so it’s not all bad.
