The original plan was to camp at Copper Creek (our usual spot for trips in that area), then take the Placer Mtn FSR over Placer Mtn into Cathedral Park, then into the Okanagan to check out some abandoned mines. A nice, relaxing camping trip, suitable for stock vehicles. I had injured my back during the previous week, so as the trip approached, I didn't even know if I'd be able to attend. Fortunately, I felt well enough on Thursday, so I decided to see if I could hack it. Terry didn't get off work until 18:00h, so by the time he arrived at my place in North Vancouver and packed the truck (I couldn't do any lifting), it was around 22:00h before we hit the road, slightly later than our "planned" 20:30h departure from the Port Mann scales.
I didn't know if Jud would be attending either, due to the poor condition of his ailing 1988 4Runner (broken front shock mounts, fluidless rear shocks, broken driver's rear spring main leaf (temporarily "fixed" via a muffler clamp), transfer-case crossmember moved 2" back on one side from where it should be, and IFS so far out of whack the alignment shop refused to work on it), but he was over at Doug's on the work-on-trucks day getting his front shock mounts welded back on (again; the last guy who welded them probably didn't anticipate Jud's unique style of driving).
We met up with Ryan and Craig (Ryan's friend from Kelowna, who owns a 1983 Toyota pickup), and Pam and Robbin, at the Chevron at Hwy 1 and 232 St. Pam had just purchased her brand new Xterra a month ago, and had never been four-wheeling or even engaged the transfer case. I installed a VHF radio into the Xterra while Ryan put his dashboard back together, and we were off. Most of the others had already left for the campsite, and some were planning to show up Friday morning.
We arrived at the Copper Creek Recreation Site around 01:30h, and got to sleep around 02:00h. I slept in the bed of my truck as opposed to pitching a tent. Doug had done some fiberglass repair work to my canopy the week before, and I was happy to find that the bed was well-sealed against the elements. John arrived around 06:00h, and August and Wade arrived shortly thereafter. My back was pretty sore in the morning; I had to put all my clothes on while lying down as I couldn't lift myself up while in a sitting position. I couldn't even bend enough to put my boots on; John ended up putting them on for me and even tied the laces (thanks, John!). While Doug was cooking bacon, eggs, and pancakes, our friend Steve Brown (red YJ) arrived; he was supposed to have 12 Jeeps with him but none of the others showed (must be a Jeep thing). We "forced" him to have breakfast with us, and invited him to join our group, but he declined, opting instead to do some solo 'wheeling in the local area.
It quickly became obvious that we weren't going to make it over Placer Mtn; I was lifted and locked front and rear and wasn't getting too far, so there was no way the stock vehicles were going to make it. We decided to have lunch just below the snow line, while we decided where we were going to go instead. I was a little disappointed, as I really wanted to see the covered bridge on the other side of the mountain, but there's always another trip. I guess it gives me an excuse to head back into the area later on in the season. :)
John and Ryan played around on a large fallen tree at the side of the road for a few minutes as we ate lunch, each of them putting a tire up on the 3-foot diameter trunk. Lorilei consulted her book of abandoned mines, and pointed out a few likely places we could check out.
We decided to head north up the road that basically paralleled the Hope-Princeton Hwy. We encountered a family riding ATVs and dirt bikes, and Terry remarked "I wish we had one of those!" After saying hello we continued on. One section of the road was a bit bumpy, and Pam experienced some difficulties at one muddy incline. After noticing that she was spinning her rear tires only, I said "Put it in 4wd!" on the VHF. This cured the problem, and we proceeded on. This road eventually became the Copper Mountain Road, a mainline logging road which brought us to a pleasant parcel of cleared land overlooking the Similkameen River valley. This was the location of Jack Crowley's cabin, built in 1905. I pointed out the old-style square-head nails to August, and we checked out the layer of dirt sandwiched between the layers of wood on the roof for water resistance. Somebody spotted a section of small-gauge railway track near the cabin, presumably from a nearby mine. I imagined what it might have been like, sitting back in a rocking chair on the front porch in the summer, watching the sun set over the mountains... it was a simpler time back then. Meanwhile, providing the perfect contrast, Brad was in his 4Runner taking the opportunity to figure out exactly where we were with his GPS and MapInfo-powered laptop. I've posted a few pics here for Cheryle's benefit, as she slept through this section. :)
We left the cabin and continued along the mainline; we soon found ourselves in a dead-end clearing with an intriguing mound of dirt to the west. Thinking that the mound would be at the edge of a cliff, we got out to take a look. It turned out to be a huge, flat, man-made plateau, composed of the earth removed from the Similco Mine to the north. We walked to the edge of the plateau, hoping to see a nice view of the valley, and found another, lower, plateau. The cliff was still further on, past the mine site. Too much walking for me! I turned around, and started heading back. Of course, the rest of the group caught up and passed me in short order, as I was moving pretty slowly. Lorilei showed me a rock that was practically oozing raw copper out of it; a soft, flakey, crumbly green mixture between the hard pink agate streaks.
We finally exited the logging mainline near the Combination Creek Road, which brought us to the gated front entrance to the Similco Mine and pavement. About a kilometer down from the gate, Doug and I stopped to check out what looked like a large valley completely filled with grey volcanic ash; it was quite unreal. Jud, over the VHF, said that it was a by-product of the mining procedure. Try to imagine an entire high-elevation valley completely filled with grey ash as far as you can see, spilling down the cliff to the lower valley floor below... the photos just don't do it justice.
I reminded everyone that they were still aired down as we descended the paved road after Jud, and just past August Lake Road we made a left turn onto a dirt road towards Allenby Lake. We passed through some new construction, and soon found ourselves at the former site of the town of Allenby, a mining-era ghost town. We parked our vehicles in a big line along the road, and got out to explore. Not much was left of the town, just some cement foundations and a large cement storage-tank type structure with a large chute on the bottom of one side. Terry, Ryan, August, and Victor climbed up the sandy embankment to explore the chute, taking Doug's video camera with them into the darkness. Some of us went around into the center of the structure which was above ground, and found a narrow cave-in which led to the chute. We amused ourselves by tossing pebbles into the hole, knowing that those inside could hear them. :)
The hillside was covered with a grey-green sandy sludge, which Jud said was the same material that the valley was filled with. A sign posted at the road stated that the BC government was participating in a project to reclaim the "waste" and transmogrify it into fertilizer. We walked back to the trucks, and rested on the cement foundations while Adam and John played fetch-the-stick with Scamp. Jud noticed a tick on my shirt and flicked it off, accidentally bouncing it off Brad, who was not amused. It was starting to get late in the afternoon, so we headed off towards our next campsite, with Wade trailing behind after performing emergency sliver-removal surgery on Adam's finger. He joked that he might have to amputate, so I told him to go to a second-hand store. :)
Our destination was August Lake; so it was back to the paved road, back a short distance, then left down August Lake Road. We wound through the forest, and I spotted some harvested marijuana plants dumped at the side of the road. As we descended into the valley, we spotted some deer grazing along the side of the road, on a hillside overlooking a wide meadow nestled in a valley. August Lake turned out to be a very small lake with a very nice campsite amidst the pines; I think it was nicest campsite of the trip. Ducks were casually swimming around the lake, and we could ocassionally see the wake of an animal of some sort. Plenty of food; smokies, potato salad, pasta salad, and Caesar salad. The smokies were cooked in a huge pot, heated with Dave's huge propane-powered torch (he's got ALL the toys). Wade and Adam took the car-topper down off their 4Runner, and paddled around the lake while the rest of us swapped lies around the campfire. When Wade and Adam returned, they reported that the animal appeared to be an otter. The temperature dropped fairly quickly, so once the fire started dying we threw lake water onto it, and fumbled through the darkness to retire to the relative warmth of our sleeping bags for the night.
Morning came, and we ate breakfast and packed up camp just as it started to rain. The rain was short-lived though, and we had the sun to keep us company as we headed down the Darcy Mine Road towards Hwy 3. We took a short drive west on Hwy 3, and soon found ourselves in Princeton crossing the familiar blue bridge over the Similkameen River. We gassed up, and headed north out of town. We were looking for our old friend the Kettle Valley Railroad (KVR), and soon spotted the yellow signs on the railbed between fields. Most of the people on this trip had never been on the KVR, so this was a new experience for them. I noticed some brand-new picnic tables and a gazebo along the old railbed; unfortunately, some of the picnic tables had already been smashed by vandals. It turns out that this section of the KVR has been incorporated into the BC section of the Trans Canada Trail. Hopefully, the KVR will remain open to motorized recreational traffic, as closing it would deny handicapped people access to the many historical and picturesque points of interest that they (we) would not ordinarily be able to get to. We passed by the slide, took some pictures at a pass that was carved out of the hillside, and proceeded on to the first tunnel. We stopped for the obligatory photos as the newcomers checked it out. The next point of interest was the first trestle, many pictures were taken here as well. The only person who did not enjoy the trestle crossing was Lorilei, who has an aversion to heights. We got photographic evidence here that August does NOT have an aversion to heights. :)
We encountered a dog-sled team participating in Relay 2000, part of the Trans Canada Trail opening ceremonies. The sled, a lightweight, three-wheeled, metal-frame unit, was being chased by a Grand Cherokee piloted by the first-aid team. Whenever they stopped, they would tip the sled onto it's side so that the dogs wouldn't run off with it. :) They used a 4wd ATV to carry water for the dogs, and they had a number of Jeep Cherokees for support vehicles. We pulled over to let them pass.
The KVR crossing over Siwash Creek was actually a filled-in trestle; the casual observer wouldn't even suspect that a curved wooden trestle lay just beneath the elevated surface of the dirt railbed that spanned the creek. We turned left at the Siwash Creek road; a sign here reported that the bridge was washed out ahead and that the road was unpassable. Hm, we'll see about that! We headed up the road, and within a few kilometers we found ourselves at the Siwash Creek crossing, with a sign stating "Road closed, bridge out". The water was fast-flowing, and looked like it was between two and four feet deep, depending on the location in the creek. The creek bed was composed of large rocks that were around football-size and up. There was a steep entry into the creek, and a not-so-steep exit on the other side. It looked doable, but we couldn't tell if it the bottom dropped off in the center due to the turbulence. I was elected to be the guinea-pig, so we hooked up Wade's winch cable to my rear bumper in the event I accidentally found a deep spot and hydro-locked the motor. I popped my hood, and unhooked my air intake from it's position next to the driver's headlight and angled it back towards the rear of the engine compartment; this would help prevent water from getting splashed into the airbox, and allowed the engine to breathe air from the pocket that would be formed beneath the hood near the firewall. That's the theory, anyway!
I slowly entered the creek, accompanied by the clicking of cameras. The steep angle of entry caused the headlights to dip into the water, and I was glad I had taken the minute to relocated the air intake. The crossing was surprisingly smooth, and I was able to easily cross to the other side. The current-side of the truck had a water mark halfway up the door, and there was just a little bit of water on the floor that had leaked in through the hole in the floor where my ARB airlines enter the cab. Have to remember to silicone that up... I know, I've been saying that for several trip reports now. :)
Dave and his stock-height, ARB-lockered pickup was next; no problems although the water came up pretty high on his door. Ryan made the crossing look easy; his truck was tall enough so that the water barely came up to his door sills. Not to be outdone, Victor took his 2"-lifted 2000 4Runner across; near the far side the current started pushing his rear end downstream, evidently causing him some concern by the way he matted the accelerator. Wade took his lifted 4Runner across; his custom rear bumper/toolbox filled up with water, which took several minutes to drain via the drain holes. I decided that the crossing was too deep for the stock-height vehicles, so we proceeded back across the creek without incident. Dave greatly amused us by having his whole hood submerged at one point; good thing he had a Safari snorkle! If we had continued along the Siwash Creek Road, we would have come out at Hwy 97C at the Loon Lake exit.
We drove back to the KVR, and headed east. Brad left us at this point as he and Lorilei wanted to explore some abandoned mines per the original plan, while the rest of us were content to continue along the KVR. Along the way we noticed an interesting method of shoring up a hillside, composed of interwoven twigs with rebar supports. The more observant among us spotted an opening in the cliff face that looked like it was the start of another mine, as it had the typical mining timbers shoring it up. I'd been through here twice before and never noticed it. John reported that it only went in about ten feet. The next section of the KVR was washed out, so we exited the railbed and took the Princeton-Summerland road. Brad called us on the VHF saying it was snowing further on up the road where he was; I saw a few flakes but nothing to worry about. We pulled into the Chain Lake Recreation Site, where we had lunch in the buffeting wind.
I had kept the engine revs down for most of the drive, and when I opened up the throttle to around 2800 RPM along a straight stretch I experienced a loss of power accompanied by a whistling noise. It almost felt like the clutch was slipping. I voiced my concerns over the VHF, and Doug, a professional mechanic at a large car dealerhip, hopped into my truck for a quick test-drive. He diagnosed the problem to be a plugged catalytic converter, and in about 5 minutes he and John had the cat out and were examining it. The only thing was, it wasn't plugged. Hmm. Then Wade wandered over to see what was going on. He said "Did you put the air intake back?" Um... I popped the hood, and discovered that the hood had pushed the plastic anti-splash flap of the intake down towards the opening, which was fine at low RPMs, but the increased air flow at higher RPMs sucked the plastic flap down and almost completely blocked the intake. Oops! Doug and John bolted the cat back into the exhaust, to the good-natured ribbing from everyone about professional mechanics misdiagnosing a problem ("Hey, my springs are too stiff, can you change the cat for me?!"). Heh-heh.
We alternated between the KVR and the Princeton-Summerland road for the next while, encountered the dog-sled team a few times, passed by a large camp compound flying a huge rainbow-coloured Diversity flag, and pulled into the campsite across from the Trout Creek Crossing Recreational Site. This site was sheltered from the wind, with the KVR railbed above us on one side (near a washed-out trestle), and trees all around the other sides. Victor whipped up a tasty chili, supplemented by potato salad and buns. Darkness found us sitting around a fair-sized campfire tended by August, our democratically-elected fire engineer ("Remember, only YOU can start forest fires!"). Ryan brought out his laptop computer to supplement the jokes and stories we were telling; ostensibly he had the computer with him for mapping purposes or downloading of digital images or something, and it just happened to contain every email joke he'd ever received since 1996. :) How can you tell we're an Internet-based 4wd group?
Ryan and Craig brought out the marshmallows, and we engaged in some creative marshmallow toasting. Victor brought out a little fork-like object, and we all laughed at him, saying that it needed to be about 4 feet longer if he didn't want to burn his hand in the fire. Well, he had the last laugh as he extended it out; it proved to be a 4-foot long collapsable dual-pronged marshmallow toaster! :)
Sometime around 23:00h, we heard somebody yelling from the direction of the KVR. Terry and I got up to investigate; our MagCharger and SureFire flashlights revealed a white Subaru Justy up on the railbed with three or four guys in it. The driver yelled out "We're just looking for some guys to drink some beer and have some fun!!" Yeah, ok, whatever; I warned them that the trestle was out just ahead, and called out "Have a good night" to them. We went back to the fire and I made jokes about sending the Subaru guys to the compound down the road (after having to explain to everyone what the flag signified).
Well, not five minutes later, in the midst of a joke-telling session, we heard a little piss-pot engine revving along the access road to our campsite. Yep, it was the white Subaru again, looking for some guys to drink some beer and have some fun. The Subaru narrowly missed hitting Norm's 4Runner on the way in, and slammed to a halt in a cloud of dust. The driver, braver than the rest, hopped out of the car with a big silly grin on his face and an open beer in his hand, and said "How's it goin'??" "Peachy." was the single response he got from somebody. Now, you know in the movies when the bad guy walks through the swinging saloon doors, and the entire bar goes quiet? That's exactly what happened here. Everybody clammed up, and all you could here was the crackling of the fire. Ryan carefully and deliberately shut the laptop lid, with an audible *click*, as we all silently stared at the guy. "Lively crowd" he commented, looking around. There was one of those silent, pregnant pauses you always read about. Seeing that we didn't appear too friendly, he muttered "Um, we'll be leaving now", and jumped back into his car. He was impaired enough that he drove into the bushes in the first corner, and had to back out and take another run at it.
As you can tell, none of us tolerate drinking drivers. We made jokes about finding the Subaru resting on it's roof in a hairpin corner the next morning, or using it for an RTI ramp if it had hit Norm's 4Runner, and that in either case it would have been a long walk to Summerland for them. :) It wasn't nearly as cold as the previous night, and I slept quite comfortably. The sun was shining the next morning, but it was cold enough that the windows were frosted over.
Wade left for home at this point because Adam wasn't feeling too well. The rest of us steadily climbed up the switchbacks above our campsite, then switchbacked down into the tiny town of Faulder. Our forward progress was significantly slowed at this point by Ma and Pa Kettle, who were slowly and carefully piloting their ancient van and camping trailer along the road towards Summerland. Fortunately, they turned off towards downtown Summerland, and we turned right to head to the trestle over Trout Creek Canyon, the tallest trestle along the KVR. At least, that was the intention. Jud, our leader, led us down a road which ended at an Indian reserve. A large crowd had gathered at the recently-built Kettle Valley Steam Railway train station; it looked like most of Summerland had turned out for the Relay 2000 celebration, complete with the mayor in turn-of-the-century (1800's) ceremonial garb. We could hear him proclaiming something about the relay ("Hear ye, hear ye..."). We started walking down the tracks, and after about three kilometers we encountered a group of relay participants on horseback, including a Mountie dressed in red serge. Jud asked one of the first aid attendants how far it was to the trestle, and she informed him that it was several kilometers in the other direction. Doh! Back to the vehicles.
We eventually found the right road, and soon found ourselves at the trestle. Although there is no danger of the trestle collapsing, the Trout Creek trestle is not open to vehicles, and still has the old track on it. I checked out the spikes; the oldest one I spotted was marked "1928". The walk across the trestle was pretty tiring for me, and I had to stop several times to rest my back. However, I had no intention of letting some back injury prevent me from experiencing one of the highlights of the trip. The trestle afforded a spectacular view of Okanagan Lake and Penticton to the east, and a dizzying view of Trout Creek far below; there were no hand rails or anything to offer assistance to the vertigo-impaired. It was HIGH. Very high. The view of the creek between the rail ties wasn't too bad, but looking over the edge at the sheer canyon walls and the tops of trees far below definitely gave me that tingling feeling along my spine. John and Victor amused themselves by walking out onto the steel supports along one side of the trestle; no thanks! I know that the chances of falling are slim to none, but the psychological effect of stepping out over thin air just doesn't appeal to me.
At the far end of the trestle, I walked down the sandy embankment to a rocky area that formed the base of the cement supports, which was about 40 feet below the deck surface. I literally inched myself to the edge of a rock that jutted out over the abyss; I just couldn't bring myself to take the single large step forward as I was still a long way up from the bottom. I visually panned from the creek below, all the way up the canyon walls, up into the steel support structure, and finally up through the railway ties overhead; I almost lost my balance as I was looking straight up at this point while standing on the edge of... nothing. Quite a weird feeling, partially caused by the rapid change in height. So I did it again. :) I got Dave to do the same pan with his video camera. Very cool!
We finally left the trestle, and headed down into Summerland. We hit Hwy 97, and headed south along the west side of Okanagan Lake into Penticton. We headed out of town along Naramata Road, amidst some of the Okanagan's finest vineyards. I spotted a KVR logo just past Raggedy Ass Road, so we turned right and accessed the KVR again. We soon found ourselves travelling along a shelf road high above Naramata and Okanagan Lake. Apparently the leading trucks encountered some hikers who were less than friendly to find trucks driving along "their" road; I guess they were unclear on the concept of "shared usage". I never did see them; everyone I encountered was smiling and most thanked me for slowing down and not dusting them out. I spotted a group of what looked like nine bald eagles lazily circling high overhead. We drove through a couple of short tunnels, switchbacked at Chute Lake Road, and entered Rock Oven Park. The rock ovens are stone structures about three feet high and five feet wide, with an opening in one side for access, constructed similarly to igloos. Jud said they used to be utilised for baking bread, and we could see a thick layer of fine grey ash on the floor of the ovens. A word of warning: this is rattlesnake country, so don't go poking around inside them.
We ate lunch at the side of the road in the park; Norm, Pam, and Victor left us after lunch due to work commitments and other reasons. The rest of us proceeded up to the Adra Tunnel, one of the largest tunnels along the KVR. This tunnel is curved, and is long enough so that if you are standing in the middle, you can't see any light from either end. You cannot drive through it any more due to several partial cave-ins, so we exited our vehicles and checked it out on foot. Most of the group had already gone on ahead; Terry and I carefully squeezed past the moldering wood supports at the tunnel entrance and carefully stepped along the fallen timbers that were protruding from the stagnant water on the flooded floor. The first cave-in was quite close to the entrance; the support timbers had collapsed, bringing down the smaller pieces of wood that the builders had stuffed between the timbers and the actual rock ceiling. The debris pile was stretched right across the entire tunnel, and required one to carefully climb up and over it. The floor on the other side was flooded for a few feet, then became dry as the tunnel climbed in elevation. A two-foot-tall stalagmite was growing up from the floor here, caused by years of cold, mineralized water dripping down from the ceiling above. A short while later I encountered a second cave-in; my back was starting to hurt so I elected to turn around. Those that continued on through reported that the flashlights didn't do much due to the vastness of the tunnel, but Terry said the Starlight scope worked great, allowing him to actually run through the tunnel in total darkness while he attempted to catch up to the others. I emerged from the tunnel and chatted with Cheryle and Doug, who had also turned around at the second cave-in. Those that had walked all the way through emerged from the forest behind our vehicles because of the tunnel's curvature, which surprised the heck out of me! Terry reported that there was a guy with a Ford pickup on the other side of the tunnel, removing fallen timbers.
Jud thought he remembered a road that went up over the tunnel and joined up with the KVR again, so we spent some time looking for it, to no avail. One promising road led to a steep embankment that dropped about forty feet down to a V, with a steep climb out of about the same height. There may have been a bridge here once, but we couldn't see any evidence of it, and there weren't any tire tracks descending or ascending. We turned around, and found a neat, twisty road through the forest that led us back to the KVR towards the Chute Lake Road. I spotted another rock oven up on a cliff just off the road, and we started to encounter patches of snow.
At one point, the KVR parallels the Chute Lake Road, separated by about 40 feet. We found some snow on the road here, and although Chute Lake Road was totally bare, Jud took us down the snow-covered KVR instead. August was having some difficulties here, and managed to slide off the road in one spot. He later discovered that he had forgotten to lock his hubs, and had powered through the snow in 2wd. DOH! I never bothered to engage 4wd myself, as my Big-O MT's handled the snow with ease. Jud took off at this point as he had to be at work the next day. Near Chute Lake, Ryan recognised a sand pit that he had played in before his lift and solid-axle swap, so we played around in it while Ryan took some pics to compliment the pre-lift shots. Craig warned us that an innocent-looking puddle here was actually truck-deep, so we steered clear of it. :)
Not being familiar with the Kelowna area, I'm not sure which creeks the next two trestles crossed over, so if you're a KVR afficionado, please let me know... and Craig, a Kelowna native, didn't know either, so I didn't feel too bad! Anyways, after some easy driving on a snow-covered logging mainline, we found ourselves on a filled-in trestle crossing what I am guessing was Gillard Creek, with the old exposed wooden trestle on our left. We rounded a corner shortly after, and had a nice view of Kelowna, with Westbank visible across the lake.
After a few more kilometers, we arrived at the trestle over what I think was Bellevue Creek; I believe it's the longest trestle on the line. Standing on the trestle, we could feel the span shaking as the trucks bumped along the spaced wooden ties. I could see that the trestle deck was slightly angled to help keep the trains on the tracks in the curve. We found a burnt and presumably stolen 1970's car at the far end of the trestle; good thing the thieves didn't torch it while it was on the wooden span. An old early-1960's-vintage pickup was halfway down the embankment here; it looked like it had been pushed over backwards rather than driven up from the road below. We took a brief detour down a steep little track that ended under the trestle; we considered camping there, but there was a bit too much water flowing over the site for our liking.
We found a dry, sandy, wide-open plateau just around the corner and set up camp, parking the trucks in a large ring around the campfire to help shield us from the wind. We built a good-sized fire as there was no danger of it spreading here. It was fajita night courtesy of August, plus plenty of "junk food" in the form of Girl Guide cookies, Fudgee-O's, and other assorted Mr. Christie type snacks. I saw my first bat here; it flitted on by overhead in the darkening skies. It started snowing just after dark, so we hauled out the spotlights and flashlights and lit up the swirling white flakes in the dark sky. The snow actually started getting quite heavy, turning the trucks and the ground white in short order, save for a 5-foot ring around the fire. Doug and Cheryle tucked in early; we decided to call it a night due to the snow, so we poured water on the fire and shovelled snow-covered sand over it. Ryan and Craig took off for Craig's place, since he lived in Kelowna ("Don't worry, the snow will be gone in the morning"). Terry didn't feel like setting up his tent in the snow, so he decided he'd sleep in the cab of my truck instead. I could feel him shifting around each time I woke up as he attempted to find a comfortable position on the passenger seat. Sometime during the night he smelled smoke, and discovered that the fire had started up again; I guess we got the coals pretty hot! He shovelled more sand on it, and crawled back into the cab. Apparently he finally was able to find a comfortable position to sleep around 07:00h, just before we got up.
In the morning, I opened up the canopy door and looked outside. It was still snowing! Who knew... Everything was white, except for the sand covering the fire. It's amazing how long coals will stay hot. As we were packing up camp, Doug noticed that Ryan's truck was gone. "Where's Ryan?" he asked. "They went to Kelowna last night and crashed at Craig's place!" I replied. "WHAT?? You mean we could have camped in their driveway, out of the snow?" LOL!
We wound our way along the snow-covered logging mainline; although it was still snowing, we could see sunshine and green trees about 100' to our left down the mountain. We decided we'd head into Kelowna for some breakfast and coffee, so we followed the mainline road down towards town. We passed a sign stating that the Priest Creek trestles were a couple of kilometers to the east, but nobody seemed too eager to check them out ("I haven't had coffee or breakfast yet!"). Once we reached pavement, I used my cell phone to phone Ryan, and arranged to have him and Craig meet us in town for breakfast. We were a rag-tag party that wandered into the Roadhouse Restaurant, and I used the washroom there to rinse the dust out of my hair. During breakfast, I pointed out to somebody that he had forgotten to remove the bear repellent from his belt, which he quickly covered up... LOL.
After breakfast, we headed for home. The long climb along Hwy 97C out of Westbank was pretty tough on my little 4-cylinder; I was doing 4100 RPM in third gear for most of it. We checked out the Coquihalla toll-booth bypass, but it was still under several feet of snow. By the time I got home, I had put another 1000 kilometers on the odometer. Even though my back was hurting, I had a great time. Pam said she enjoyed getting into the back country and seeing the sights, except for that one time where the trees were scratching her new paint. :)
Epilogue: This was to be the last trip for Jud's 1988 4Runner, the Red Beast. On April 29, he bought a mint 1985 solid-axle EFI 5-speed 4Runner with only 170000 km's on the odo, and will either sell or shoot the 1988. Also on April 29, we found out that after Steve Brown left our camp, he drove down a steep, muddy road and couldn't get back up; he spent 5 hours extricating himself and then went home. Good thing he had a hearty breakfast... Time to buy a winch, Steve!
Epilogue II: Terry got his wish. On Friday May 5, I received a phone call from Laurie at the BC Wildlife Federation, who informed me that I had won the "early-bird" prize in their Spring 2000 Conservation Lottery: a 2000 Arctic Cat 300 4x4 ATV!! Whoo-hoo! Nice way to start the weekend. :)
Epilogue III: When Pam took her Xterra in for it's first oil change, Doug noticed a tweaked front sway-bar mount. Oops! We're not sure where it happened; we suspect it might have occured in one of the deep dips before or after a trestle. Time for a lift kit! Or maybe I can convince her to get rid of the swaybar completely to improve her articulation. Hey Doug, maybe you could fix it by changing the cat... :)
Photos used this trip report are from Doug, Terry, Victor, Norm, and August, and are used with permission. More photos are located on Norm's website, Ryan's website, and Victor's website.
