The rain begins with a single drop. -Manal al-Sharif, human rights activist (b. 25 Apr 1979)
Great photos and commentary, as always, I dare say the photos are getting better (... under my guidance ...). We miss you :?!) Your Pearly white Ida Aarturo and stunning Balinese beauty Ibu Josilta
Up at just after 6:00 am as my latest guests, (Aka St John's/Denman Island Freeloaders!), needed to be off by 7:30 am, or so, and Pushy Woman Luise had "ordered", last night, a full Penticton Breakfast: Canadian back bacon, home fries and scrambled eggs! Dave joined me in the kitchen around 6:20 am with a barked order to make Luise's cup of tea. We commiserated while the kettle boiled and then I added the sliced bacon to the oniones I had frying. Once Thelma Luise was in the kitchen I set her to work writing out a skeleton recipe for rhubarb chutney. Jugos Dom Pedro had given us some wonderful stalks when we popped by for a visit yesterday afternoon and Luise had mentioned, at the time, that she had a number of recipes for said chutney.
While I made my sandwich for today's hike, I let Short Order Dave fry the spuds, tend the bacon and then scramble the eggs. He did a stellar job, indeed, and soon we were enjoying the fruits of his labour, made even better with a spoonful or two, of Lady Darjeeling's home-made ripe tomatoe pickle! Once we'd finished the fine fare I sent them off to finish last minute packing, (Dutiful Dave had loaded the car last night, mainly dozens of cases of wine acquired over the course of the stay. My type of guests!), so they were ready to say goodbye close to 7:30 am, if I recall correctly. At any rate, it was a wonderful visit indeed. Only thing missing was Mme Coriandre's presence. Unfortunately, for all concerned, she was in Vancouver while they were here. Thanked them both for all the wonderful wine they had supplied and all the help, in the kitchen, they had so willingly given, and then waved goodbye. Trust we will be able to visit them on Denman at some point in the not too, too distant future or else see them back here at Burns Street.
Hello Fellow Wildflower Enthusiasts! What a rainbow of blossoms and blooms we were privileged to enjoy so thanks to Colonel Klink, Commanding Officer, pro tem, of the Penticton Field Division, Sisterhood Hussars, for leading the recce. Hip Hip Hooray for She's a Jolly Good Fellow! Thanks as well, to all the other aloof officers, various noncoms, foot soldiers and unwilling draftees. A privilege, indeed, I think, to serve with such a motley crew! Cheers, Patrizzio!
Field report, gathered from interviews with shell-shocked, battle weary infantry, if interested:
Once the Freeloaders were gone I did a few chores and then made ready to head out to HH, about 8:40 am. Spumoni was there when I arrived and she very kindly agreed to tie my hiking boot laces. With Lady Dar away I needed some compassionate individual to help me with what is an otherwise difficult, clumsy process if I have to do it myself, sore, inflexible hips and all. Once this was accomplished Colleen and her cohorts started to arrive and I was introduced to Patrizzia and Margery Morningstar, along with Red Wing Linda, someone I'd met a month or so ago, as she is a Flatlander as well. Shortly thereafter Luigi and Massimo pulled up and then the pesky Summerlandians drifted in, led by none other than our Ex-Fearless, Honorary, Overpaid, Non-Leader, Tyrannosaurus Tinka!
To tell the truth, I was quite worried, Dear Reader, that a rather nasty scene might ensue as a power struggle was quite possible, given Admiral Al's oft demonstrated penchant for exerting and maintaining control, especially when the mission had already been specifically assigned, by Sergeant Major Spamela, to Colonel Colleen, a GI Jane to her very bones, if ever there was one! However, not so much as a skirmish occurred, (although there were a number of muttered oaths and dark, whispered threats, by both parties, harmless volleys, as it turned out), Agreeable Al yielding, without resistance of any kind, to bow, on bended knee to the new despot!
Peace, or, at the very least, a truce, in place, we repaired to our respective troop carriers and convoyed along 97 to park, eventually, near White Lake. Once everyone was kitted out, we threaded our way through a narrow gate, led, somewhat ironically, even ominously, I thought, given what I just described, by Audacious Al! Still, nothing could spoil the day, glorious morning that it was. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, even if there were clouds scudding across it, and a meadow lark was singing, notes of pure, unmitigated joy, as we headed along the narrow track, which parallels, at this point, the magnificent rocky bluffs there. Here, the slightly rising ground is covered with sage and the air was filled with its wonderful scent, our very passage releasing the intoxicating fragrance, so much so that I felt I was in a Simon & Garfunkel album!
Not long after, we came upon a small pond surrounded by a phalanx of gorgeous Trembling Aspen, their graceful, white trunks swaying, ever so slightly, and their shimmering leaves "quaking" in the breeze, afraid of their very own shadows! I was somewhat familiar with the landscape as I'd been on a hike here, mid-summer, last year, but this time I was completely unprepared for the coming splendour! Crossing, on a couple of small pieces of log, the tiny, tiny rivulet that fed the pond, we came to three, closely placed Ponderosa Pines, (Their reddish, jig-saw puzzle bark, another marvel!), towering majestically above us, where Mad Max, Tyrant Tinka and Photojournalist Patrizzio vied for the title of Official Photographer. No clear winner but my image, an hommage to Vivian Maier, capturing part of my shadow and that of Aggressive Al's, must surely be a front runner, Dear Reader!
Up a the gentle slope ahead, past a very nicely constructed fence, (the barbed wire still silver shiny, the posts treated wood, some of the corners supported with rock filled cribs), the hillside opened up before us and we caught glimpses of the undulating carpets of Balsam-root waiting for us. Past a lovely pond, the various shades of green of the surrounding grass, (Islamic green), and pines, (Brunswick green), and shrubs, (Malachite), the reeds, (Castleton green), and the water of the pond itself, (reflecting and mashing this rainbow of green into a unified Dartmouth green, {"Don't let the truth get in the way of a good story, Patrizzio", advises St Kilian!}), all shouted, "Look at Me! Look at Me! It certainly isn't easy being green as Kermit and Van Morrison say! Hard for us, as well, simply not knowing where to look so bombarded we were by this cornucopia of colour.
Further along we were treated to swaths of Lupinus sulphureus, (Sulphur Lupine for the non-botanist!), a bit of a conundrum for me as these were far closer to "white" than "sulphur" but, (as Lady Dar always reminds me, when co-coordinating my clothes, "You're colour blind, Darling!), what do I know? To add to this bouquet, the lupines were dotted with clutches of Balsam-root and individual smatterings of Larkspur, their Stellar's jay blue vivid stilettos. Some of the group even started to overheat, their systems overwhelmed by the flood of visual sensation and they had to peel off their outer shells, Olga Polga, in particular, doing a rather provocative burlesque number which cooled her down but heated up many of the onlookers!
Leaving the small lake and dance floor behind, we continued to climb, still gradually, towards the Balsam-root covered hillsides, where Colonel Klink, [I dearly wish to be the one to claim the rights for so anointing Colleen, (My earlier moniker was a rather poor, alliterative "Colonel Colleen"), but St Kilian's rapier wit must be acknowledged. He first referred to her this way and Rolly Polly immediately chimed in, "O, Patrizzio, I love MASH!" and it was left to Chuckerini to disabuse her of the incorrect association, Hogan's Heroes being the TV show in question. Nevertheless, Colonel Klink she will be From Here to Eternity!], insisted, nay ordered, a number of snaps of herself, back-dropped by the blaze of yellow, be taken to be used for the large posters she plans to plaster all over building site hoardings, Penticton Public Library bulletin boards and derelict barns, announcing her recent ascension to the Hiking Throne!
Posed photo-op over, we had a chance to focus on the vistas that offered themselves to us. One, in the crook of a neighbouring hillside, revealed a large seam of pure gold with smaller coins of the same currency scattered further up the slope. And then there was Apex, high and mighty, above two lesser peaks, obedient vassals, all three capped with ermine, oft enshrouded with snow-bearing cloud, a number of the weather-wise postulated. Yet even the grandeur of these mountains was eclipsed, or at least challenged, by the tiny wildflowers that lay at our feet, so delicate, so humble, so unassuming that we risked crushing them with a false, unseeing step if we were not alert and careful. Royally rewarded, we first came across Indian Paintbrush, the first sighting of the season for many, and then, to everyone's delight, Chocolate Lily, their drooping heads, delicate, miniature Tiffany lamps!
After this we truly needed a tea break so Klinkenheimer called a short break and we stopped for a few minutes. Those not sipping hot liquids or munching a granola bar, drinking in, devouring the phenomenal views, whether of ever changing, cloud shadowed hillsides or tiered mountain ranges, their peaks rounded, soft and hazy on the distant horizon. Not one to molly-coddle her charges, Generalfeldmarschall Schneider soon ordered the march to continue and we pressed onward and upward. However, in her hurry, Kranky Klink took a wrong turn and most of the forward party ended up on the wrong ridge so there was much grizzling, in the ranks, about Armchair Generals!
To her credit, Wrong-way Colleen soon found her bearings and led us to bivouac, atop the right peak, although, it must be said, a rather windy, cool one, where we enjoyed, at long last, shivering all the while, our K-rations. That being said, once again, the views were nothing short of stupendous, (Mahoney Lake, shimmering like an emerald, to the southeast, a few manicured, Kelly green pastures belonging to ranches in nearbye Willowbrook, per esempio), and some of the more fortunate, fawning, junior officers all, enjoyed a reviving snort of Jameson Irish Whiskey, purloined from the bottle hidden in Guy's cache. Voicing his obvious disapproval, by his absence, Lone Wolf Al went off to explore a nearbye peak, returning, reluctantly, it must be noted, to pose, barely visible, behind both the new Commander-in-Chief, and a tree, for a photo he was not in charge of configuring, salt in his already raw, wounded pride! Still, he made the best of it and we were soon on our way, all slights forgiven, if not forgotten!
And even these lingering misgivings were soon dispatched as we traversed, at the beginning of the return leg, through yet more densely carpeted hillsides of Balsam-root, (Accountant Al happened upon one plant with over a hundred flowers!), to come across an exposed patch of rocky hillside covered with Bitterroot, some of the unopened bulbs, a dark, red-rust brown, some of the open petals, miracles of white with purple edges or others, closer to pink, both with starfish-like, delicate structures of some sort, function unknown to me, at least, hiding, perhaps, pistil and stamen, anther and filament, stigma and style, but please check with Spumoni to be sure!
Further along our jaws dropped open with the sight of Penstemon, the plucky plant somehow establishing hold in the rocky, barren surface, gracing their chosen spots with purple and white tube-shaped flowers mini-Champagne flutes for the bubbly we needed to toast our great good fortune at seeing so many of these amazing wildflowers. Not to be outdone by these living jewels, a little further down the track, Olga Polga immersed herself in a "daisy patch", (More Balsam-root in fact but we didn't want to spoil her giddy abandon!), her shocking red hair and dynamite smile competing with the dazzle of vivid yellow she luxuriated in. As if this wasn't enough, shortly thereafter, she stood beneath a low hanging branch of a Pondersosa, each fan of needles showing seven or eight incipient cones, these clusters an almost perfect colour match to her hair! Wonders never cease!
By this time the group had thinned out and I found myself with Luigi, Massimo and Jumping Jack Tinka, leap-frogging over large, fallen trunks that I shied away from, always taking a circuitous route around such obstacles, while Super-Hero Hiker Al cleared them in one easy bound! When not leaping skyscrapers, he paid his usual, quizzical attention to the various stumps we often encountered here, [One, a huge, gracefully spiraled narwhal tusk, another a miniature Hanging Garden of Babylon supporting a lovely Wisteria, (I think this is what Luigi said it might be.), not yet in bloom.], stopping at one particularly impressive example to deliver an extemporaneous lecture to his rapt audience, punctuating his Tinka Talk with, and I paraphrase, a memorable quotation: "What is the shape of the love of nature?"
Next woodland wonder was another pint-sized lake, the shallow edges steeped tea in colour, a result of wood tannin, I believe. [I was immediately reminded, by said colour, of the current raging torrents in Penticton Creek, a remarkable sight I encourage everyone to take a look at before the flow subsides. Some of the rock engendered waves seem almost surf-able so high were the spumes when I, along with Spumoni, Luise and Dave, walked there last Friday.] Mad Max cut the apron strings and went along the far side of the pond, in search of salamanders but only succeeded in disturbing a single Barrow's goldeneye which graced us with a fly-past, its stunning black and white markings etched distinctly against the verdant background.
Up a slight rise and we were back at the barbed wire fence, there, I presume, to keep cattle from the extremely shallow pond, already drying up, there. And then the weathered rock bluffs came into view, giant Easter Island sculptures, they seemed, at times, in the fleeting interplay of shadow, sunlight and surface, and we were transformed, once again, into Hikers of the Silver Sage, our company strung out, in single file, ahead. The gentle, easily negotiated, downward sloping trail allowed one to be mesmerized, yet again, by the pines, and their alligator bark, and towering, yet timid, aspens we'd seen earlier, by the endless cloud formations and the gentle, rolling hills across the open grasslands. A perfect way to decompress after the almost uninterrupted visual bombardment we'd undergone. What a hardship posting!
Thanking Colleen the Great for leading, unnecessarily autocratically, it must be duly recorded, such a sublime outing and Professor Longhair for his ever goodnatured presence, wry humour and thick, rhino skin, we shook hands and hugged and kissed and waved goodbye to one another, some to repair to the nearest watering hole, others to soak in Epsom salts, althought, I should note that this was, perhaps, the easiest, most relaxed hike I've ever enjoyed, in terms of terrain covered, lolly-gaggle pace and range of flora sighted, an auspicious sign, I trust, of future outings under kinder, gentler leadership! Stats for hike:
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1142161722#.Vx6Myd4S3JA.email
Yet again, the record is inaccurate as the eye in the sky couldn't find my GPS when we started out and while I was waiting for connectivity I forgot it wasn't recording! Didn't relaize this until about an hour into the hike and then after initializing device, I forgot to turn it off until I was back home. One way to inflate AVG! At any rate, after much deliberation and frustration I estimated the hike itself lasted about 4 hours and covered between 4.5-5 km at an AVG of 1.7 kph. The blame, of course, is not mine, but belongs to St Kilian or should be laid at Luigi's feet, even at the risk of having her kick me with her snazzy new hiking boots!
Re: Al's album: Wow - these are great! They belong in a BOOK! Thanks for sharing. Best, Bryan (Oceanside, CA at the moment)
Hi Patrick; I just wanted to thank you profusely from the bottom of my heart for opening your home to Luise and David. That was very generous of you and we had a lot of fun especially last night during that scrumptious meal! That really went beyond the call of duty.....I hope you and Corinne will make the journey to Denman Island and enjoy Luise and David's fabulous home and hospitality! Fond regards, Pam
Dear Patrick Just wanted to thank you for your "extreme" hospitality! We had a great time. Yesterday's tastings were memorable!! Look forward to hosting you and Corinne on lovely Denman Island. Hope you had a lovely walk. Luise and Dave
Hi there! I am Jenna from Peachland. I had been working on a hike to host (as a humble rookie) on a Thursday soon... when I suddenly learned about THIS existing event that pretty much does it! So I'll defer, as this one (below) sounds way cooler!
Great photos and commentary, as always, I dare say the photos are getting better (... under my guidance ...). We miss you :?!) Your Pearly white Ida Aarturo and stunning Balinese beauty Ibu Josilta
Up at just after 6:00 am as my latest guests, (Aka St John's/Denman Island Freeloaders!), needed to be off by 7:30 am, or so, and Pushy Woman Luise had "ordered", last night, a full Penticton Breakfast: Canadian back bacon, home fries and scrambled eggs! Dave joined me in the kitchen around 6:20 am with a barked order to make Luise's cup of tea. We commiserated while the kettle boiled and then I added the sliced bacon to the oniones I had frying. Once Thelma Luise was in the kitchen I set her to work writing out a skeleton recipe for rhubarb chutney. Jugos Dom Pedro had given us some wonderful stalks when we popped by for a visit yesterday afternoon and Luise had mentioned, at the time, that she had a number of recipes for said chutney.
While I made my sandwich for today's hike, I let Short Order Dave fry the spuds, tend the bacon and then scramble the eggs. He did a stellar job, indeed, and soon we were enjoying the fruits of his labour, made even better with a spoonful or two, of Lady Darjeeling's home-made ripe tomatoe pickle! Once we'd finished the fine fare I sent them off to finish last minute packing, (Dutiful Dave had loaded the car last night, mainly dozens of cases of wine acquired over the course of the stay. My type of guests!), so they were ready to say goodbye close to 7:30 am, if I recall correctly. At any rate, it was a wonderful visit indeed. Only thing missing was Mme Coriandre's presence. Unfortunately, for all concerned, she was in Vancouver while they were here. Thanked them both for all the wonderful wine they had supplied and all the help, in the kitchen, they had so willingly given, and then waved goodbye. Trust we will be able to visit them on Denman at some point in the not too, too distant future or else see them back here at Burns Street.
Hello Fellow Wildflower Enthusiasts! What a rainbow of blossoms and blooms we were privileged to enjoy so thanks to Colonel Klink, Commanding Officer, pro tem, of the Penticton Field Division, Sisterhood Hussars, for leading the recce. Hip Hip Hooray for She's a Jolly Good Fellow! Thanks as well, to all the other aloof officers, various noncoms, foot soldiers and unwilling draftees. A privilege, indeed, I think, to serve with such a motley crew! Cheers, Patrizzio!
Field report, gathered from interviews with shell-shocked, battle weary infantry, if interested:
Once the Freeloaders were gone I did a few chores and then made ready to head out to HH, about 8:40 am. Spumoni was there when I arrived and she very kindly agreed to tie my hiking boot laces. With Lady Dar away I needed some compassionate individual to help me with what is an otherwise difficult, clumsy process if I have to do it myself, sore, inflexible hips and all. Once this was accomplished Colleen and her cohorts started to arrive and I was introduced to Patrizzia and Margery Morningstar, along with Red Wing Linda, someone I'd met a month or so ago, as she is a Flatlander as well. Shortly thereafter Luigi and Massimo pulled up and then the pesky Summerlandians drifted in, led by none other than our Ex-Fearless, Honorary, Overpaid, Non-Leader, Tyrannosaurus Tinka!
To tell the truth, I was quite worried, Dear Reader, that a rather nasty scene might ensue as a power struggle was quite possible, given Admiral Al's oft demonstrated penchant for exerting and maintaining control, especially when the mission had already been specifically assigned, by Sergeant Major Spamela, to Colonel Colleen, a GI Jane to her very bones, if ever there was one! However, not so much as a skirmish occurred, (although there were a number of muttered oaths and dark, whispered threats, by both parties, harmless volleys, as it turned out), Agreeable Al yielding, without resistance of any kind, to bow, on bended knee to the new despot!
Peace, or, at the very least, a truce, in place, we repaired to our respective troop carriers and convoyed along 97 to park, eventually, near White Lake. Once everyone was kitted out, we threaded our way through a narrow gate, led, somewhat ironically, even ominously, I thought, given what I just described, by Audacious Al! Still, nothing could spoil the day, glorious morning that it was. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, even if there were clouds scudding across it, and a meadow lark was singing, notes of pure, unmitigated joy, as we headed along the narrow track, which parallels, at this point, the magnificent rocky bluffs there. Here, the slightly rising ground is covered with sage and the air was filled with its wonderful scent, our very passage releasing the intoxicating fragrance, so much so that I felt I was in a Simon & Garfunkel album!
Not long after, we came upon a small pond surrounded by a phalanx of gorgeous Trembling Aspen, their graceful, white trunks swaying, ever so slightly, and their shimmering leaves "quaking" in the breeze, afraid of their very own shadows! I was somewhat familiar with the landscape as I'd been on a hike here, mid-summer, last year, but this time I was completely unprepared for the coming splendour! Crossing, on a couple of small pieces of log, the tiny, tiny rivulet that fed the pond, we came to three, closely placed Ponderosa Pines, (Their reddish, jig-saw puzzle bark, another marvel!), towering majestically above us, where Mad Max, Tyrant Tinka and Photojournalist Patrizzio vied for the title of Official Photographer. No clear winner but my image, an hommage to Vivian Maier, capturing part of my shadow and that of Aggressive Al's, must surely be a front runner, Dear Reader!
Up a the gentle slope ahead, past a very nicely constructed fence, (the barbed wire still silver shiny, the posts treated wood, some of the corners supported with rock filled cribs), the hillside opened up before us and we caught glimpses of the undulating carpets of Balsam-root waiting for us. Past a lovely pond, the various shades of green of the surrounding grass, (Islamic green), and pines, (Brunswick green), and shrubs, (Malachite), the reeds, (Castleton green), and the water of the pond itself, (reflecting and mashing this rainbow of green into a unified Dartmouth green, {"Don't let the truth get in the way of a good story, Patrizzio", advises St Kilian!}), all shouted, "Look at Me! Look at Me! It certainly isn't easy being green as Kermit and Van Morrison say! Hard for us, as well, simply not knowing where to look so bombarded we were by this cornucopia of colour.
Further along we were treated to swaths of Lupinus sulphureus, (Sulphur Lupine for the non-botanist!), a bit of a conundrum for me as these were far closer to "white" than "sulphur" but, (as Lady Dar always reminds me, when co-coordinating my clothes, "You're colour blind, Darling!), what do I know? To add to this bouquet, the lupines were dotted with clutches of Balsam-root and individual smatterings of Larkspur, their Stellar's jay blue vivid stilettos. Some of the group even started to overheat, their systems overwhelmed by the flood of visual sensation and they had to peel off their outer shells, Olga Polga, in particular, doing a rather provocative burlesque number which cooled her down but heated up many of the onlookers!
Leaving the small lake and dance floor behind, we continued to climb, still gradually, towards the Balsam-root covered hillsides, where Colonel Klink, [I dearly wish to be the one to claim the rights for so anointing Colleen, (My earlier moniker was a rather poor, alliterative "Colonel Colleen"), but St Kilian's rapier wit must be acknowledged. He first referred to her this way and Rolly Polly immediately chimed in, "O, Patrizzio, I love MASH!" and it was left to Chuckerini to disabuse her of the incorrect association, Hogan's Heroes being the TV show in question. Nevertheless, Colonel Klink she will be From Here to Eternity!], insisted, nay ordered, a number of snaps of herself, back-dropped by the blaze of yellow, be taken to be used for the large posters she plans to plaster all over building site hoardings, Penticton Public Library bulletin boards and derelict barns, announcing her recent ascension to the Hiking Throne!
Posed photo-op over, we had a chance to focus on the vistas that offered themselves to us. One, in the crook of a neighbouring hillside, revealed a large seam of pure gold with smaller coins of the same currency scattered further up the slope. And then there was Apex, high and mighty, above two lesser peaks, obedient vassals, all three capped with ermine, oft enshrouded with snow-bearing cloud, a number of the weather-wise postulated. Yet even the grandeur of these mountains was eclipsed, or at least challenged, by the tiny wildflowers that lay at our feet, so delicate, so humble, so unassuming that we risked crushing them with a false, unseeing step if we were not alert and careful. Royally rewarded, we first came across Indian Paintbrush, the first sighting of the season for many, and then, to everyone's delight, Chocolate Lily, their drooping heads, delicate, miniature Tiffany lamps!
After this we truly needed a tea break so Klinkenheimer called a short break and we stopped for a few minutes. Those not sipping hot liquids or munching a granola bar, drinking in, devouring the phenomenal views, whether of ever changing, cloud shadowed hillsides or tiered mountain ranges, their peaks rounded, soft and hazy on the distant horizon. Not one to molly-coddle her charges, Generalfeldmarschall Schneider soon ordered the march to continue and we pressed onward and upward. However, in her hurry, Kranky Klink took a wrong turn and most of the forward party ended up on the wrong ridge so there was much grizzling, in the ranks, about Armchair Generals!
To her credit, Wrong-way Colleen soon found her bearings and led us to bivouac, atop the right peak, although, it must be said, a rather windy, cool one, where we enjoyed, at long last, shivering all the while, our K-rations. That being said, once again, the views were nothing short of stupendous, (Mahoney Lake, shimmering like an emerald, to the southeast, a few manicured, Kelly green pastures belonging to ranches in nearbye Willowbrook, per esempio), and some of the more fortunate, fawning, junior officers all, enjoyed a reviving snort of Jameson Irish Whiskey, purloined from the bottle hidden in Guy's cache. Voicing his obvious disapproval, by his absence, Lone Wolf Al went off to explore a nearbye peak, returning, reluctantly, it must be noted, to pose, barely visible, behind both the new Commander-in-Chief, and a tree, for a photo he was not in charge of configuring, salt in his already raw, wounded pride! Still, he made the best of it and we were soon on our way, all slights forgiven, if not forgotten!
And even these lingering misgivings were soon dispatched as we traversed, at the beginning of the return leg, through yet more densely carpeted hillsides of Balsam-root, (Accountant Al happened upon one plant with over a hundred flowers!), to come across an exposed patch of rocky hillside covered with Bitterroot, some of the unopened bulbs, a dark, red-rust brown, some of the open petals, miracles of white with purple edges or others, closer to pink, both with starfish-like, delicate structures of some sort, function unknown to me, at least, hiding, perhaps, pistil and stamen, anther and filament, stigma and style, but please check with Spumoni to be sure!
Further along our jaws dropped open with the sight of Penstemon, the plucky plant somehow establishing hold in the rocky, barren surface, gracing their chosen spots with purple and white tube-shaped flowers mini-Champagne flutes for the bubbly we needed to toast our great good fortune at seeing so many of these amazing wildflowers. Not to be outdone by these living jewels, a little further down the track, Olga Polga immersed herself in a "daisy patch", (More Balsam-root in fact but we didn't want to spoil her giddy abandon!), her shocking red hair and dynamite smile competing with the dazzle of vivid yellow she luxuriated in. As if this wasn't enough, shortly thereafter, she stood beneath a low hanging branch of a Pondersosa, each fan of needles showing seven or eight incipient cones, these clusters an almost perfect colour match to her hair! Wonders never cease!
By this time the group had thinned out and I found myself with Luigi, Massimo and Jumping Jack Tinka, leap-frogging over large, fallen trunks that I shied away from, always taking a circuitous route around such obstacles, while Super-Hero Hiker Al cleared them in one easy bound! When not leaping skyscrapers, he paid his usual, quizzical attention to the various stumps we often encountered here, [One, a huge, gracefully spiraled narwhal tusk, another a miniature Hanging Garden of Babylon supporting a lovely Wisteria, (I think this is what Luigi said it might be.), not yet in bloom.], stopping at one particularly impressive example to deliver an extemporaneous lecture to his rapt audience, punctuating his Tinka Talk with, and I paraphrase, a memorable quotation: "What is the shape of the love of nature?"
Next woodland wonder was another pint-sized lake, the shallow edges steeped tea in colour, a result of wood tannin, I believe. [I was immediately reminded, by said colour, of the current raging torrents in Penticton Creek, a remarkable sight I encourage everyone to take a look at before the flow subsides. Some of the rock engendered waves seem almost surf-able so high were the spumes when I, along with Spumoni, Luise and Dave, walked there last Friday.] Mad Max cut the apron strings and went along the far side of the pond, in search of salamanders but only succeeded in disturbing a single Barrow's goldeneye which graced us with a fly-past, its stunning black and white markings etched distinctly against the verdant background.
Up a slight rise and we were back at the barbed wire fence, there, I presume, to keep cattle from the extremely shallow pond, already drying up, there. And then the weathered rock bluffs came into view, giant Easter Island sculptures, they seemed, at times, in the fleeting interplay of shadow, sunlight and surface, and we were transformed, once again, into Hikers of the Silver Sage, our company strung out, in single file, ahead. The gentle, easily negotiated, downward sloping trail allowed one to be mesmerized, yet again, by the pines, and their alligator bark, and towering, yet timid, aspens we'd seen earlier, by the endless cloud formations and the gentle, rolling hills across the open grasslands. A perfect way to decompress after the almost uninterrupted visual bombardment we'd undergone. What a hardship posting!
Thanking Colleen the Great for leading, unnecessarily autocratically, it must be duly recorded, such a sublime outing and Professor Longhair for his ever goodnatured presence, wry humour and thick, rhino skin, we shook hands and hugged and kissed and waved goodbye to one another, some to repair to the nearest watering hole, others to soak in Epsom salts, althought, I should note that this was, perhaps, the easiest, most relaxed hike I've ever enjoyed, in terms of terrain covered, lolly-gaggle pace and range of flora sighted, an auspicious sign, I trust, of future outings under kinder, gentler leadership! Stats for hike:
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1142161722#.Vx6Myd4S3JA.email
Yet again, the record is inaccurate as the eye in the sky couldn't find my GPS when we started out and while I was waiting for connectivity I forgot it wasn't recording! Didn't relaize this until about an hour into the hike and then after initializing device, I forgot to turn it off until I was back home. One way to inflate AVG! At any rate, after much deliberation and frustration I estimated the hike itself lasted about 4 hours and covered between 4.5-5 km at an AVG of 1.7 kph. The blame, of course, is not mine, but belongs to St Kilian or should be laid at Luigi's feet, even at the risk of having her kick me with her snazzy new hiking boots!
Re: Al's album: Wow - these are great! They belong in a BOOK! Thanks for sharing. Best, Bryan (Oceanside, CA at the moment)
Hi Patrick; I just wanted to thank you profusely from the bottom of my heart for opening your home to Luise and David. That was very generous of you and we had a lot of fun especially last night during that scrumptious meal! That really went beyond the call of duty.....I hope you and Corinne will make the journey to Denman Island and enjoy Luise and David's fabulous home and hospitality! Fond regards, Pam
Dear Patrick Just wanted to thank you for your "extreme" hospitality! We had a great time. Yesterday's tastings were memorable!! Look forward to hosting you and Corinne on lovely Denman Island. Hope you had a lovely walk. Luise and Dave
Hi there! I am Jenna from Peachland. I had been working on a hike to host (as a humble rookie) on a Thursday soon... when I suddenly learned about THIS existing event that pretty much does it! So I'll defer, as this one (below) sounds way cooler!
"Experience the sounds of the Okanagan hills while having Tea at the Top of the Fur Brigade Trail at the foot of Mount Eneas.
This is an excursion with two options - either a 7 km return hike
after car-pooling to the trailhead from Hardy Falls in Peachland or an 8
km return bike ride from Priest camp at Garnet Lake. The excursions are
broken halfway with lunch at a 400 foot elevation
and panoramic view of the lake together with a talk about the history of the fur brigade trail by historian Dr. David Gregory. Sunday, May 8th. Please register before May 1st by e-mailing
trail.of.the.okanagans@gmail.com. The event is supported primarily by various Summerland societies. More details on the PCAC website."
Hope to see you there, and I'll take a few more weeks to create a
new hike to host as a rookie! (Hope someone doesn't beat me to THAT
one!)
Incidently, there's a new group starting up unrelated to ours, for
days other than Mondays or Thursdays, based on a developed group around
Calgary. It advertises online, keeps groups small, and is open to
leaders presenting other ideas as well, like biking
or paddling etc. Lyle is the contact for Okanagan Slow & Steady
Hikers, and the online info is:
http://www.meetup.com/Okanagan-Slow-and-Steady-Hikers/ . Not to
break us up, but just to present options for other days of the week, and
to show an online program that limits numbers.
Hi Jenna! Thanks for the information on the Fur Brigade Trail. I plan to walk hike
with Marian and Tim Dunn. I take it you probably know them. Thanks, as
well, for the letting me know about the new group. Much appreciated. I
trust our paths will cross in the not too, too distant future. Cheers,
Patrizzio! (Included is an account and album from Monday's outing, if interested.)
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