Sunday, April 15, 2018

Walking to the End of the Trail

Rebecca and I set out to take a few steps.

The first few steps lead around Richard and Doral's cabin.

The next few steps were checking out the stream that emerges half way down the hill between Moiya's and Wyona's.  There is a bench over the stream made from hefty round logs.

Then we checked the kiln at Glen and Janet's.  Doesn't this sound like what any self respecting potter would do to interrupt a walk?

We tried the path that Greg and Glen help maintain, the one that goes to Sicamous.  We walked over three streams which are not at their seasonal full yet, but which required Rebecca to give me her hand so I would maintain my balance.

Photo Credit: Rebecca Johnson
About 5,000 steps most of which were up hill into our journey we came to a stream I didn't think we could get over. 

Someone maintains it by keep a set of stones going across the stream, one on which there are a few dry rocks that can carry a person to safety.

That was a help.

We finally made it up to the highway where there is a sign that announces this is the end of the trail.  It is the end of the trail for those walking west from Sicamous, but for us it is the beginning of the trail that leads east to Sicamous. 

I could have only done the trail if there  had been someone to pick me up the end of the trail.  As it was, we walked back along the shoulder of the Trans-Canada Highway to Pilling's Road which is showing the wear and tear of the winter.  Five trees have fallen over the trail, big ones.

Just beautiful.



  1. I missed a great time at the lake. Your photos and comments on the roofing and retired life are so fun to read. Getting that roof on and finished in the one week was a small miracle. Just got back from a birthday party for Zach and Tonia which was chez Treleaven. So fun and plenty of groups breaking off to play together. Richard and Miranda's little kids will now have so many great memories of the lake. Panabode 1 is no longer there. Tonight we named it the 'Johnson' house. Your house Arta is called 'Arta's.

  2. Roofing the cabin was a thrill. For my part, I just took the occasional look at the non-stop work that had to be done. And then I got to listen as the men laughed at night about what had happened in the day. There was no use in going slow that first day. The shingles fell from the roof, either directly into the truck or onto the ground and then were hauled down to the fire, a fire that last 3 days, non-stop until everything was burned. Thank goodness that we could call about the burning index and see when it was OK to burn.

    Thanks for naming the new cabins and homes. Yes, now they will belong to someone else and I will only be left of with memories of how those cabins got us to the places where we are now.

    Blessed cabins.