Day 8 - McCulloch Lake to Chute Lake 50 km

Flying squirrels and other creatures

We wake up to an overcast morning. It is cool but not uncomfortable. Picturesque Myra Canyon is not too far down the trail. Now considered a feat of railway engineering, eighteen trestles and two tunnels were needed to span the difficult terrain of the steep, winding ravines that edge Hydraulic Creek. The views on the trail today should be exceptional. We are eager to get underway but we have the added chore of filtering water since the resort water is not potable. In our haste, we forget to pack some of our breakfast items in the food bag that goes in the Bob trailer. M.J. tucks the overlooked dehydrated breakfast bananas into the bag on her backrack.

We leave McCulloch shortly after seven. Again, the trail is soft and sandy. Not too far from the resort we see a middle-aged man cycling toward us. We give him a friendly hello. I say jokingly, "Been to the canyon already?" He replies "Yes." He doesn't stop to talk. M.J. and I are rather surprised. If he has been to the canyon, cycled through it and is returning to the resort, it is 50 km. We wonder what time he got up.

About ten minutes later we encounter a lady cycling toward the resort. We surmise that it is the man's wife. She looks tired. I try to encourage her by saying cheerfully that she doesn't have too far to go. After she is out of earshot, I say to M.J. that I can't believe that the man has let his wife get so far behind him. The bear factor seems rather high: early morning and lots of berry bushes. I muse that perhaps I'm being a bit paranoid but some of these cyclists seem oblivious to a few trail rules—like sticking together.

The day is clearing a little. We hope by the time we get to the canyon that we will get a little bit of sun. The trail continues to be sandy, occasionally interupted by big muddy swaths that look like they could be tricky in wet weather. We're looking forward to entering the Myra Canyon section where the trail is maintained as a Provincial Park. A popular destination for families, the canyon trail will be in better condition. As we enter the park, we pass several cars already parked at the entrance to the canyon. Families are unloading bikes.

The trail in Myra Canyon Park is well maintained

The trail starts to wind its way back and forth along the edge of the canyon. Trees on one side, a drop-off on the other. An old rock slide has created a widening in the trail and the park has installed a bench that overlooks the canyon. At the edge of the little sitting area are large boulders and then it drops off into the canyon. The sun is trying to peek through the clouds. It is a beautiful view.

We're famished and we decide to fuel our appetites before we take in the scenic park. We lean our bikes against a large boulder and eagerly get out our snacks. No sooner have we sat down than a couple of local chipmunks appear. They dart back and forth among the rocks.

Suddenly one appears carrying something in his mouth. I recognize it as a cellophane wrapped piece of our breakfast banana. "M.J.—he's got our banana!" M.J. startles me as she jumps up and runs after the chipmunk. The chipmunk is even more startled and it drops the banana. M.J. retrieves it, scolding the chipmunk. "If you think that I've carried that banana from Castlegar just for you to make a snack of it..." She sits back down, still scolding the chipmunk. I go over to the bikes and discover that M.J. had left a pocket open on her bike bag. The crafty little beast had climbed in to get the food.

The chipmunk doesn't give up. He has called for reinforcements and they are all perusing our bikes now that they know where the food cache is. I have to stand guard. The chipmunks are bold and they hardly flinch when I try and shoo them away. I see a sign over to one side of the clearing. It is a description of the the two kinds of chipmunks, also known as "ground squirrels" that are common to the canyon. It states that since people feed them that they can be bothersome.

Finally, they give up on the bikes and I sit back down. More of these chipmunks appear. The word in the underground is spreading. There are now five or six of them scurrying around our bench. It is beginning to feel like something reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. M.J. keeps jumping up and stomping her feet to try and scare them off. We're still hungry and we're trying to finish our snack.

The chipmunks seemed entertaining at first but now they are becoming annoying. M.J. sits back down. A bold chipmunk crawls onto her foot. Startled, she reacts with a shrieks and flings her leg. The chipmunk becomes airborne. From my end of the bench, it looks like the chipmunk is going to "fly" right over the edge of the canyon. It lands in the dust close to the edge and scurries away.

The chipmunks don't seem deterred. They want some food and they're determined to get it. A family cycles up. "Oh, what cute squirrels!" They stop and promptly start feeding the chipmunks. They don't mind parting with their food which they have carried only from the parking lot. The chipmunks get what they want. We ride off and leave them to deal with the little pests.

The park is beautiful. The trail is hard-packed and smooth. To ride along it is a treat. The trestles are all planked and railed but they are still a little unnerving as some of them are quite high and long. Although it is early, we meet several groups of walkers and cyclists that have entered the park from the west side and are going in the opposite direction. The planked section of the trestles is narrow and we have to stop and pull to one side to let them pass. Looking down into the ravines under the trestles, we can see many old trestles timbers that have been discarded during reconstruction or repairs.

The trail winds its way back and forth along the edge of the mountains that ring the canyon. Sometimes we get glimpses of trestles far across the canyon. Later we ride over these and gaze back and see the trestles we just traveled from a different perspective. The sun breaks through the clouds.

The sun breaks through the clouds as we look across the canyon

The weather is warm but not hot. We see lovely examples of different types of retaining walls, aging but picturesque reminders of the enormous amount of labour that went into making this section of the railway spanning Myra Canyon. We enjoy the ride through the canyon immensely.

A moss covered rock retaining wall in Myra Canyon

Leaving the canyon we return to the loose sandy trail. Again there are large swaths of muddy water that stretch across the trail. We console ourselves with the thought of the nice trail that we just rode in the canyon. The trail turns into a logging road. It is surfaced with about 3 inches of sandy, loose gravel and it is washboard. It's very hard riding. I try deflating my tires a little. It doesn't seem to help much.

We keep wandering from the left side of the road to the right side and back again looking for the smoothest route. Every few kilometers the road suddenly becomes hard packed but full of large potholes. Although we have to negotiate the holes, we much prefer this surface to the loose sand. The hard-packed sections are short lived and we return to the sand. Even though we have been on the trail for a week and we are now "seasoned" riders, we find the afternoon tiring.

When we arrive at Chute Lake, I'm famished. I know that we have reserved our "pie" for dessert but I want something to replenish the calories that I expended fighting the sand. Entering the resort I check out their menu. Hum, it's rather limited but muffins sound good. I ask for six muffins. The fellow says, "Just a minute." My mouth is watering. He comes back and says that he has six muffins but that they are all reserved. Hum, "OK, what else do you have?" "Well, we're making fresh cinnamon buns." By this time my stomach is grumbling. "That sounds good," I say. He turns and heads back to the kitchen. As he disappears, he turns back and says, "Come back after supper and they'll be ready."

I can't believe how disappointed I am. I'm not going to make it to supper without something to eat. We go down to the camping area by the water and I sulkily eat a piece of beef jerky. The wind is picking up and it's getting cooler.The ground slopes towards the water and we each search around to find a level spot to put our tents. I find a semi-level area, large enough for my tent and inspect some dried mud patches several feet to the side. I figure that these might be an indication of some animal activity. No, there is no evidence of any burrows just the dried mud. I pitch my tent.

Since they have a coin washer, M.J. offers to do some laundry. "Oh, that would be great. I'll just go into my tent and look for something clean to put on, so that I can give you today's clothes also." I go into my tent and hunt through my belongings. "M.J.?" "Yes?" she replies. "The only clean thing that I can come up with to put on, is a clean bandana!" We get the giggles, my sulking over the limited menu now forgotten.

At supper we sit with the swimmers and the blond girl from the shower and her husband. Everyone is in good spirits, we have all enjoyed our day in the canyon. They are all interested to hear about our trail experience riding from Castlegar. We chat amicably as we devour our meal and our reserved pieces of pie. We purchase several cinnamon buns to take back to our tents for breakfast.

As we are leaving a young mother and her three preteens arrive. It must now be about 7:45 p.m.. She looks completely exhausted. I hear her talking to the man at the counter. She says that she hadn't read or heard anywhere about the sandy condition of the trail and that the loose surface had been very difficult for them to negotiate. The man at the counter explains that they graded the road about a month ago and that since there hasn't been much rain the road hasn't settled. He says everyone has been complaining about the tough ride along that section.

The mother says that they would like a meal. The man replies that he's sorry that the kitchen is closed. He inquires whether they have food with them. The mother's tired voice answers, yes they have food to make a meal. They're able to get some cinnamon buns though and they head off to the camping area.

As the sun is setting, I listen to the little family unloading precarious bundles of sleeping bags, tents and other items strapped to their bikes. The mother is coping patiently with three tired kids, setting up tents and cooking a meal. She seems to have things under control but her tired voice betrays that perhaps the adventure of this cycling trip is a bit more than she anticipated.

Installed in my sleeping bag for the night, I hear chewing noises coming from under my tent. I try and dismiss them. They sound like they are directly under me. Definitely gnawing little creature sounds. I sit up and listen, I don't hear anything. "M.J. do you hear sounds?" No, she doesn't hear anything. I lay back down and try and sleep. The sound continues, I'm sure it's getting louder. There is definitely something under my tent.

I think about my cinnamon bun which I'm hoarding until breakfast. I'm convinced that the little creature or creatures are thinking about it too. I can't stand it anymore. "M.J. there is definitely something under my tent and I'm not staying around to find out what it is."

We get out of our tents and M.J. helps me drag my tent, contents and all, past hers to a less level but creature-less spot. I fall asleep secure in the thought that M.J.'s tent now lies between me and the gnawing creatures.

Main | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16

Intro | KVR Map