highway 37

Sweet, sweet long weekends. Nothing is better.  Easter might just be the cream of the long weekend crop due to it's extended tenure.  But, as much as I love a long weekend, I also sometimes find them a bit overwhelming. I always feel like they need to be BIG.  Something needs to happen. I don't want to squander the gift. Staying at home seems a bit like a long weekend cop-out.  Needless to say, as Easter snuck up on us, I panicked a bit.  What to do?

Luckily, there is a lot of northwestern BC for us to explore. So on Good Friday after some very last minute planning, we headed out for a weekend excursion with a few friends to the humming metropolis of Stewart, BC and Hyder, AK.  To get there, we struck out along Highway 37.

Turning off Highway 16 east of Terrace, Highway 37 leads from the Kitwanga junction (gas station has a permanently out-of-order washroom, be warned) and leads 725 km north to the Yukon border.  Stewart is a much more manageable 215km along.  En route, we stopped along the way to snap some photos are enjoy the scenery.

Driving east along the Skeena.  I will never get sick of this scenery.

Kitwanga junction

St Paul's Anglican church at Kitwanga junction

Since I am my mother's daughter, I was obviously stoked upon learning that there is a National Historic Site along the way, the Gitwangak Battle Hill National Historic Site (see here for more info).  Self-guided interpretive trail...JACKPOT (no sarcasm intended...no....really)!

Looking down on Battle Hill from the road

At the top of Battle Hill.

The Gitwangak Battle Hill was an 18th century fortress established by legendary Gitwangak warrior, 'Nekt.  Used as a base with several homes, the fort was protected by a series of spiked logs that were rigged to be let go should any enemies try to attack.  Pretty badass, if you ask me.  

Doggy stairmaster

View from Battle Hill.

After a few stops, however, we got road-trip impatient and made a beeline for Stewart only stopping again once we'd turned off onto Highway 37a and the scenery started looking like this. 

View from the passenger seat

So freaking beautiful.  Stay tuned for more on our long weekend roadie.  Spoiler: we may have had a rifle pulled on us in Alaska.  

thousand steps

April started off soggy up here.  What felt like a long slog of wet weather finally broke two weekends ago and we woke up on a Saturday to sunshine.  It felt like we'd won the lottery.

To adequately take advantage of our blue-sky luck, we pulled out our already well-used copy of 'The Outsiders Guide to Prince Rupert' and chose a hike.  Ty has been wanting to check out the Thousand  Steps trail, so we grabbed Mase (poor choice, but more of that in a minute) and headed out.

The Thousand Steps trail begins just beyond the grounds of the cemetery and after choosing the wrong trailhead twice (we optimistically kept choosing other trails that were less overgrown) we finally got on the right path.  To be honest, I'm using the term path generously.  The trail is incredibly overgrown and unmaintained, but it still made for a good adventure.

The "trail" follows an old funicular of sorts that was created during World War 2 to bring supplies and soldiers up Mount Hays to a look-out station.   Apparently the carts were winched up and down, providing much easier transport in the steep terrain. Prince Rupert actually has quite a few World War 2 remnants.  Due to it's strategic position, after Pear Harbour nine different forts complete with ant-aircraft guns sprouted around the community. While much of the wooded supports that once held this smart transport system are now rotted away (or close to it), the tracks still remain and following them provides you a straight shot up the mountain.

Balancing along the old tracks at the beginning of the "trail".  The line above Ty shows the straight path up the mountain.

The level section at the bottom is short lived and after you cross a creek at an uncomfortable height above on some sketchy, moss covered logs (of which I was too terrified of plunging to my death below to take a photo of), you begin to climb straight up and don't stop until you've reached the look out.  

Start of the climb.

At first, the wooden steps that once supported the tracks are overgrown, but of a height that is easy to climb.  However, as you gain elevation, the steps get much steeper and higher and the hike soon became an all out scramble, with both hands and feet necessary to get yourself up.  We were very quickly soaked due to rivulets of water making their way down the same path. 

My one big note for this trail is that it isn't really appropriate for most dogs.  While I found maneuvering myself up this overgrown climb to be fun challenge, half-way up it stopped being fun for Mase.  The steps became too tall for him to be able to jump his 11-year old self up and pretty soon Ty was lifting him at almost every step.  Needless to say, the last half was tough on both Mase and Ty, who got an inadvertent upper body workout by heaving a 90lb golden retriever up the mountain.

View from half way up.

What I really liked about this hike was the sort-of spooky sense of history being consumed by the forest.  A few of the old carts that would have been winched up the mountain can be found among the trees, now slowly being covered in moss and mud.  The tracks, some suspended in the air, are also being slowly covered over by ferns and lichens, soon to be obscured by growth. Nature eventually covers its scars.

The Thousand Steps trail meets up with the short lookout trail on Mount Hays and leads to a spectacular viewpoint.  

Looking out over Digby Island and beyond.

We both agreed at the top that while going up had been a challenge, going down the same trail with Mason would be pretty impossible, so we decided to hike down the Mount Hays Road and then connect up with the Mount Hays Connector trail before walking through a neighborhood to get back to our car.  It turned out to be a great circle route in the sun and much easier on our doesn't-want-to-believe-he's-a-senior dog.  

I particularly like the butterfly stickers on this sign.

Mount Hays Connector trail

Big Trees

skunk cabbage country

Spring has finally arrived to Prince Rupert.  But instead of the cherry blossoms I'm used to back home, up here the new season is signaled by a slightly more pungent bloom: Skunk Cabbage.

Behind my office: skunk cabbage.  On our doggy walking route: skunk cabbage.  On the trails I ran yesterday: skunk cabbage.  Everywhere you look in this town, the cheery bright yellow heads of skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) are poking through the saturated earth.

Now I am one of those crazy people who quite enjoys the smell of skunk (much to Ty's dismay) and while skunk cabbage doesn't have quite the same nose, I still enjoy it's musky, earthy smell.  Apparently I'm not the only one, the scent is actually used by the plant to attract pollinators like flies an beetles (so... obviously, I'm in good company).

In honour of this first sign of spring up here, here is a little skunk cabbage 101 (I know you were just dying to know more about it):

• While skunk cabbage may look like one big, yellow flower, each plant actually has a spathe (the big yellow leaf) and spadix (the interior club) that actually contains hundred of teeny flowers.
• Skunk cabbage has the largest leaves of a plant found in the region- up to 150cm long!
• The young plants (especially the roots) are food for bears emerging from hibernation.  Apparently it has a laxative property that helps clear things out after a winter spent asleep.
• Don't try to eat it, it contains calcium oxolate crystal that can cause some major burning.
• Apparently the big, waxy leaves were used by some First Nations as we would use wax paper or saran wrap now, to store food.

So cheers to spring in skunk cabbage country....

wild abandon

am·bas·sa·dor

amˈbasədər,-ˌdôr/

noun

4. an authorized messenger or representative.

Sunday morning on the S/V Wild Abandon

Let me introduce you to the  S/V Wild Abandon, Prince Rupert's very own sailboat ambassador.  To understand what I mean, you'd only need to peruse one of the lovingly-made photo albums created each year to chronicle her journeys.  In those pages, you'll see that each year Wild Abandon hosts a huge variety of friends, family, visitors and newcomers to the north coast. Wild Abandon's main objective seems to be to introduce and share this area with as many people as possible.

Coming through Metlakatla Pass

Wild Abandon's owners, Marty and Mae, are some of the nicest people I've ever had a chance to meet. Open, friendly, and so happy to share their local knowledge and love for the area with anyone new, I feel pretty fortunate that we were able to get acquainted with them through my job.  Two weekends ago, Ty and I had the fortune to join Marty and Mae for a day aboard.

Hosts and captains extraordinnaire

In short, it was fantastic.

First time at the helm (photo courtesy of Mae)

We headed out early for a full day on the water.  Our destination was Big Bay in search of herring spawn and possible whales. The water was calm and we had enough wind to do a bit of sailing on the way up. Unfortunately, we didn't run into any herring spawn, but we saw an abundance of sea birds and eagles everywhere that seemed anxious and waiting for the feast to begin.

I discover the bow seat and refuse to share (Photo courtesy of Mae).

Scenes from the sail

After we had lunch beside an island that was pepperd with bald eagles, a few humpbacks made a quick appearance along with some stellers.  We made our way back, picking up an incredibly loaded crab trap (Ty and I were blown away- so many crab, all legal!) and sipping a beer in that content way you do after spending hours on the water.

As we got into the harbour, we set the sails again and tacked our way back to the dock.  It was fabulous and terrifying all at once.  I've been on a few sailboats in the past, but have never been at the helm of one whilst under sail.  As we were keeled over, weaving through the anchored cargo ships, I was pretty sure I was going to fall right out and into the water that seemed to be only a few feet below my shoulder.  That, or somehow slam Wild Abandon into the hull of something much larger than us. I cackled laughter of nerves and glee the entire time, checking Marty's face regularly to make sure he didn't look to concerned.

Ty takes the wheel (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Marty doesn't look too terrified, I'm ok (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Trying not to fall out (Photo courtesy of Mae)

This post doesn't do the day justice.  It was one of those days where I felt so certain that Ty and I had made the right choice in upping our lives and moving to this soggy section of the coast.  As we finished off the day back at the dock with another beer and some incredible salmon pate, I couldn't have felt more welcomed by Prince Rupert's sailboat ambassador, Wild Abandon, and her two wonderful owners.

What a great feeling.

Photo courtesy of Mae

PS.  To top it off, Marty and Mae generously handed over 7 dungeness to us!  After sharing some with our neighbours we still proceeded to eat crab for the week. Ah-may-zing.