If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the link to the right will take you to a 45,000 word essay; however, here is a quick synopsis of Ramble #6. Knowing that the drive to the trailhead was farther than to our first five hikes, we started out earlier than usual. This time, we had to take two cars, as Lynn and Lana joined the regular foursome of Ruth, Richard, Ingrid and me (Linda). As we wound along Chilliwack Lake Road, those of us in the lead car had no idea that the car following us was ill-prepared for the distance and its occupants were beginning to panic. Finally, we pulled over to park, and Lana's Nissan drifted in behind us on the last few fumes in the gas tank. Relieved that she had finally caught our attention, Lana quickly explained that she had to go back for gas. When she and Lynn realized we had pulled over because we were "there" and not because we had seen her flashing headlights or heard her honking horn, they gave a sigh of relief and happily grabbed their day packs.
The first part of the trail was the usual heart-pumping ascent, but with the gurgling sound of Post Creek in the distance, it didn't seem so daunting. It's strange how relaxing yet energizing the sound of running water can be! We zig-zagged our way upwards until we eventually came to a spot on the trail where we had to cross the creek. With the record snowfall this year, this part of the creek was a rushing torrent of blue-green water, tumbling in wild cataracts as it made its way down the mountain. Before us, lay a huge tree trunk bridging the trail on either side of the tumultuous water. We looked at each other wondering what was keeping the tree in place. There were guide wires on either side of the log, but certainly nothing that would support a hiker should there be a misstep or moment of unbalance. Taking a deep breath, one by one we stepped cautiously onto the "bridge" and managed to plant one foot in front of the other until we were safely on the other side.
Shortly after making the precarious crossing, the trail began to level out somewhat. After another fifteen minutes or so, we emerged from the forest and caught our first glimpse of Lindeman Lake. One couldn't help but gasp at the beauty in front of us. My first thought was that I had somehow been transported back to the Rockies and the jeweled lakes I had known as a child. Here we met a few other hikers, and chuckled when we noticed some of the kids were scrambling lithely along the trail in only flip-flops. Oh, to be young and limber again!
I remembered this spot well from several years back when I had taken my grade sixes to Chilliwack Lake for the year-end camping trip. That time, I hadn't an ounce of energy left to even attempt climbing onto the boulder field which was where the trail continued. It was here that half the class continued on, guided by two dads who had willingly accompanied us, only too glad for an excuse to get out of the city; the rest of the class, less fit and adventurous, stayed with another parent helper and me. Brendan Bozlovitch had carted his fishing gear up, and while some splashed around in the icy water and others hiked, he was in his element trying to catch supper for us.
This time, however, I was determined that a few monster rocks wouldn't stop me from continuing on towards the north end of the lake and maybe even on to Greendrop Lake. We scrambled up the first few boulders, scanned the mountainside until we saw some orange trail markers, then continued along our way. Less than ten minutes later, we decided to each find the perfect rock and sit down to eat our lunch surrounded by breathtaking beauty. The rugged peaks on the far side of the lake towered high, and Richard and Ruth bantered back and forth about the possibility of scrambling up the scree slopes. Richard lost the argument and conceded that it would probably be wise to stick to the trail we were on.
After the last bite was digested, Lana and Lynn said good-bye, as they had other commitments back at home. The four of us continued on through the boulder field. We knew that it was a mere kilometre or so to the other end, but we were not quite ready for what lay ahead! As far as one could see forward, and upward, and downward, were giant boulders that had once upon a time tumbled in a massive slide from the slopes above. There was no clear route -- just 1,001 ways to traverse the area along the west side of the lake. Jumping from boulder to boulder, it was over an hour later when we finally came to a short boardwalk that led to the north shore "beach." Try to imagine what went through our minds when Richard, who was first at the beach, turned to us laughing. The "beach" had room for perhaps a single soul -- a single soul standing up, not even room to throw down a towel and stretch out for a little sunning. It seems that the "beach" had gone the way of Atlantis, tufts of grass stretching above the surface giving the only indication that the beach did exist and was not someone's imagination. The heavy snow pack had fed the mountain streams that made their way down to Lindeman, and the water level of the lake was much higher than usual.
We continued along a muddy path until we were sure there wasn't another beach somewhere. Ingrid and I finally decided to stay put while Richard and Ruth explored just a little further along. They REALLY wanted to continue on to Greendrop Lake -- until they met a couple of hikers who were just returning from that journey. After hearing them describe boulder field after boulder field to cross and overwhelming disappointment upon reaching the final destination, it was an easy decision to be satisfied with what we had already done and begin the return journey.
The final descent was uneventful, and as we trod the final last stretch leaving behind the castellated peaks and turquoise water, we all agree that this had been well worth the long drive from the city. Oh, and Lana and Lynn made it back safely, thanks to Lana's car being a hybrid.
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