It's all a matter of perspective. And accepting the things you cannot change. And looking for a silver lining. In that which you cannot change.
Leaving the highway just north of Nelson, B.C., we drove up the Kokanee Provincial Park access road. This is a slow, steep 16 kilometres that takes one up to the fresh sub-alpine air around Gibson Lake. Having learned from a previous trip, we chicken-wired our vehicle, fashioning a barrier to keep the porcupines away from our brake lines. (The last time was a nerve-wracking drive out.)
The hike is a relatively easy eight kilometres up some steep sections and then some less steep, through wildflower gardens and alongside babbling brooks. Skirting Kokanee Lake is breathtaking because of the scenery and also because the trail hugs the rocky slope with a bit of an airy feel. This is a beautiful, beautiful hike.
Part way up, the threatening clouds did more than bode ill, they opened and dumped. The thunder was so loud that shouting was our only way of communicating. The message from the heavens and from some of us was to turn back. But my brother Erwin coaxed us onward and so we arrived, with wet feet and ringing ears at the Kokanee Hut. Dryness, warmth and quiet were all we wanted. We also planned on no rain.
The hut is perched above Kaslo Lake and, despite its size, looms suddenly out of nowhere, with its open beams and bright blue roof. The third-storey deck often has guests relaxing with books and/or beverages smiling a greeting to new arrivals.
At a cost of over a million bucks, Kokanee Hut is in a class by itself for backcountry accommodation. A mini hydro plant, water filtration system and advanced septic system means it is more like a hotel than a hut. And it only sleeps 20, which pretty much guarantees quiet. The weather report guaranteed blistering heat and no rain.
We had our nook for the five of us. The other beds were occupied by three adults and TWELVE kids between ages three and twelve. All playing hide and seek, monsters and haunted house, one game after another. And they were LOUD! One of the leaders assured us that if their group was too loud to let them know. Uh huh. We have been with our own children and others enough to know that would work as well as a flimsy poncho in a downpour, and create bad feelings to boot. So we kept our peace.
And though we weren't particularly happy with the volume, we talked it out, exploring the idea that if one wants young people to enjoy this version of the outdoors – relatively longer hikes away from the usual trappings of home – then putting up with a bit of noise might be our contribution to passing the torch. Granted, this is not rugged camping, but it is a start. And the exposure to the outdoors and the rising comfort level that follows does not have to be limited to tents and pit toilets and mosquitoes.
Up in our loft, we heard the shrieks diminish for a bit. And then they picked up again as some of the girls hit the water beneath the jumping-off rock. These kids had energy and they were having a blast. Growing pains aren't limited to those experiencing life. We were marginal collateral damage on their road to discovery.
Such is life.
