• Ignore me (some people really looked as if they were in real pain)
• Looked at me as if I was mad (but took the opportunity to ask me how long I had been walking to find out how long they still had to reach the bottom)
• Smiled and said hello, judging by the huge rucksack I was carrying and the trip hanging outside they knew I wasn’t some crazy tourist
• Warned me and gave me advice

No doubt they added up to hundreds. I knew there would be a lot of people during the day but I didn’t expect to find so many in the evening.

4am - the red smoke coming from the volcano guiding me

I took a break after 2 hours and slept (or tried to sleep) for a few hours and started to hike again around 3am. “Sleeping” under the stars, with the almost full moon, the red smoke of the Volcano and the Northen Lights was a treat, even though the cold wind made it a little demanding.

I left the path and headed East to avoid the smoke and reached the the Volcano just after witnessing a sublime sunrise.

Getting to the Volcano just after sunrise

And there is also more photos on this page including photos I took during my first trip in Iceland.

First WE in the mountains in Slovakia

A trip to Ukraine

A long WE in Slovak Paradise

And a WE spent in a sort of music festival with lots of different artisans

• Best day in my life (at least it definitely felt that way after the Worst day of my life)
• Dawson Overland Trail

I still have some photos to upload, especially a batch from a morning I walked up to Mount Washington to see the sunrise.

I’m on the Dawson Overland Trail, part of the longest trail in the world, the transcanadian trail. Let’s rewind and let me tell you how I arrived here.

I left Sarah Steel’s hut a few hours after the sun rose. I walked to the next hut, the Fireweed hut and stopped there. I decided to spend the rest of the day resting here. I first prepared some wood and started a fire in the stove, which was in much better condition than the other one. The hut itself was smaller and I had to put two benches next to each other to have just enough space to lie down. It was also much more hermetic than the previous chalet, which means it kept the heat. And the stove being more hermetic too, the wood lasted longer and I kept the fire going from the moment I arrived until I left the following morning. It did get pretty hot in there, too hot even. It was snowing heavely outside, a sight I enjoyed through the three big windows of the hut. I slept, ate and read about Whitehorse and made plans for the few days I had left. In the morning, after making sure that the fire was dead, I walked to the sport center to fill my water bag. There wasn’t much food there. I bought a few cookies and a cereal bar. That, in addition to the few dates I had left should be enough for a couple of days.

I walked to the highway where I had to wait about 20m before getting a lift. The man was supposed to turn before where I was going but he brought me to what we thought was the beginning of the Overland Trail. I thanked him and started to look for the trail. The first one I dounf brought me inside what looked like a gypsy’s village, with lots of trailer and broken cars. Lots of barking dogs too.  I walked through it knowing I had to cross the river to find the start of my trail. The river was still frozen, but probably only on the surface, so I walked on the side hoping to find a bridge. I didn’t find a bridge but traces of snowmobiles going across the river, so I took a stick and carefully crossed the river, checking the ice every other step. As I crossed, I remembered a scene of Into the Wild, when he gets stuck on the otherside of the river. So I checked the map and saw a bridge a few km down the road, so if the river became uncrossable when I would come back, I could use the bridge.

And there I am, on the Overland Trail. Had I had more time I would have loved to go all the way to Dawson, but I can only walk North today and I will have to come back tomorrow. I’ll then have a last day to explore the historical trails in Whitehorse before going back to Vancouver. It’s funny how just a few days ago, when struggling in the powder I wished I could be home, and today I wish I had a few more weeks here.

My shelter for the night

The sun waking up on the Overland Trail, Whitehose, Yukon

The river crossing at the end of the Overland Trail

View from the plane, Whitehorse airport

I’m not sure what time it is but I know I’ll sleep like a baby tonight. Let’s rewind a few hours. I walked out of town towards the airport and saw a small road to the Transport Museum. Smaller road = less traffic = less noise. Walking on that road, I noticed a big building on my right. It looked like a shopping center but without any name or catchy colours, no advertising. Curiosity took over and I went to check it out. It turns out to be a Sport Center. And a mighty recent one, built in 2007. I first picked up a local newspaper and sat down at a table and quietly read it to find out more about Whitehorse. A little later, when I finished reading it, I decided to explore the building. I bought a sandwich and watched a hockey game, my first hockey game. I loved it. The players move with such fluidity on the ice, change direction and stop so quickly, I was mesmerized. I had the chance to see many tricks I had never paid attention to while watching the game on TV. Anyway, I just found my new HQ. This Sport Center is just perfect, with everything I need, toilets, food, water, tables and seats, even entertainment for free.

After my horrible adventure yesterday I almost felt like giving up and coming back early. But as soon as I came back to town I missed the woods. I guess the fact the it was sunny and I could sit down and dry all my cloth and shoes helped. And now, I have found a refuge, slightly out of town, open from 6am to 9 or 10pm. But that’s not all.

I am now writing from the porch of Sarah’s chalet, where I am planning to have a restful night. I will sleep outside if the weather is kind, otherwise I’ll go inside and start a fire in the stone. The chalet is in the middle of a maze of cross country trails which I doubt will be very frequented. Life’s great. I have prepared some wood for the night, just in case.

The moon shines in the sky, no need for a light to see around. The stars are only half hidden by the slow moving clouds. I’ll look at them until I fall asleep.

Hours later I wake up, it’s still dark, to early in the morning not to sleep, but I’m cold. I go inside the chalet and start a fire in the old stove. The hut will soon enough be filled by the heat and I’ll get warm, hot even. Again, I fall asleep. But the heat won’t last long. The stove isn’t hermetic and consumes the wood too quickly. It’s cold again so I go back inside my sleeping bag.

And finally, as I wake, the sun is up, a new day is starting. I prepare more wood and start a new fire to warm up and dry the rest of my cloth. As I’m about to go back in my sleeping bag, I see something through the not entirely closed door. My first reflex is to grab the axe. But it’s too small to be a bear. A cub maybe? No, not likely. Still, I stay quiet and slowly move towards the door and check outside. I can’t see anything for a while and suddenly, behind the hut, I see it: a beautiful red fox. He’s sniffing around, probably looking for food. I noticed wooden sticks used to grill marshmallows yesterday, he probably smelled them. He’s about 10 meters away from me. He gives me a quick look and, I suppose not considering me dangerous, goes back to sniffing the sticks. He comes closer and gives me another look, longer this time, as if asking for permission to come closer. I don’t move an inch and he comes closer, he walks so close to me that I could touch him. Definitely used to see humans.

Back in the hut, it will get really hot, so I stop adding wood and wait for the fire to die before walking my way to the next hut, a few kilometres away. I’ve counted three. I might spend a few days here, to try all of them.

More and more snow accumulated on the floor, but the wind was in my back, so I kept going that way. I had to use my wooden stick as a third leg to keep my balance. I found a spot just big enough to spend the night, behind a big rock, blocking some of the wind. But as I was settling in the wind changed and snow started to cover everything, so I left.

The snow was getting softer and deeper. No traces, nor human nor animal, no traces at all. Suddenly I fell. I was in deep snow and couldn’t keep my balance anymore. I fell in the snow and couldn’t stand up anymore. Even the wooden stick, which was over 2m high, would not help me and sink in the snow. I had to swim. Literally, I had to swim in the snow to keep going. Usually, when I encountered deep snow where I couldn’t stand on, kneeling would work, spreading my weight on my front legs. But in this snow, even the 2m stick was useless, as if it was water, spreading my weight on the stick by putting it flat on the snow was of no use. Snow was starting to get in my shoes. My hands in frozen gloves, I was getting cold. But I didn’t really have many options. The wind was blowing the snow so strongly that I couldn’t turn back. I simply saw nothing. If only I had my glasses.

After much cursing (Yukon for not being colder) and struggling in the deep snow for what seemed like forever but probably was only 4 hours, I managed to get passed it. The nightmare was over. Or so I thought, because strangely I could see the forest but the snow stopped. A connection between the two was missing. I carefully and slowly walked until I understood. Below was a cliff. About 25/30m high. I looked on the right, same thing, on the left, same thing. I can see the forest down there, where I’ll find refuge for the night, but there is a cliff between us. Behind me, deep snow that I simply don’t have the strength to cross again. No way I’m going back. So I take my stick in both hands and use it to slow down my descent. Bit by bit, I’m slowly going down. Not very graciously nor very comfortably, but at least I’m getting closer to the forest.

And after a while I’m off the cliff and I can start walking again, in deep snow, again, but this time only to the waist. But very quickly, I have to stop. Another cliff. And now I can see what’s above: more cliffs. My feet and hands are freezing (not yet literally but they might if I don’t quickly reach the forest to make a fire and warm them up). So I accept the facts, it’s the worst day of my life, I’m tired, cold, I wish I was home, but nobody will do it for me or come and rescue me here, so I just start sliding down the cliffs, one after the other.

After a while, the sun manages to pierce through the clouds and I find a spot where I can sit down, undo my shoes socks and gloves to dry them up. Only seconds after my socks are off, it starts snowing again. Heavy wet snow. It’s just not my day. I put my wet socks, shoes and glove back on and continue going down, only a few more cliffs and I’m in the forest. The only good thing I manage to find about all this is that it made me forget my worst day.

I reached the forest just before the night, though I was still walking in deep snow (up to my knees at best). But I decided it was time to start looking for a place to build a shelter and start a fire, I would try to find a track (packed snow) in the morning. The usual, first collect the wood for the shelter, then stuff to make a mattress, and finally wood to make the fire. By the time I got the fire started, I was knackered, so I snuggled inside my sleeping bag, letting the shoes and socks to dry near the fire. My trousers were still wet but I really had to rest. I felt asleep watching the last ambers turn into ashes.

In the morning, my socks were as hard as frozen fishes and when I tried to put my feet in my shoes to go and collect some wood to start a fire, I simply couldn’t put them on. They were frozen. Hard as ice, they wouldn’t flex to let my feet in. So I burnt the house. Sitting on the slipping bag, I started the fire using wood from the roof. My shoes and socks unfroze but even after an hour my shoes were still damp (more on the wet side than on the dry one). So I once again had to put wet shoes on, not a great way to start the day, walking with wet shoes. You’d think that at least they would be warm, but only seconds after being taken away from the fire, they got freezing cold. My sleeping bag was wet too, from the wet trousers, so I walked carrying it on my shoulders as a big scarf. And again I was walking in the deep snow.

The happiness I first felt when I discovered a track quickly transformed into something else when I realized I wasn’t following someone’s track but a bear track. It took me a while to realized it, but suddenly it all made sense, why the track was going in bushes when they could be avoided, why it seemed to have no real direction and why it was turning for no reason. I stopped following it and went back in the deeper snow, making my own track towards the town, out of the forest. I saw the bear track crossing my path another couple of times. It snowed all night, so it was definitely fresh tracks. I kept my axe in my left hand and my eyes and ears wide opened.

I walked for a few hours. The snow was getting heavier and heavier as I was going down. My feet were cold so I stopped in a sunbathed opened space. I took my socks and shoes off to dry them, sitting on a log, my feet warming up in the sun. Breakfast time. If only I had proper snow trousers instead of my snowboard ones that keep letting the snow go in my shoes I would probably have dry and warm feet. But I was happy to do with what I had. I just had to make sure I would stop and take my shoes and socks off a few times a day to let my feet dry up and I shouldn’t have any problem.

I continued for a few more hours and saw a horse’s track but walking in it or not didn’t make much difference so I continued making my own. And finally, covered by fresh snow but just about visible, a trail. Only slightly better than nothing but I knew that following it would eventually bring me on a hard snow packed one. And it did. After an hour or so I was walking on hard snow, how resting. It went all over the forest. I sometimes had the sun in my face, sometimes in my back, sometimes on either side, but I didn’t care, I was walking on something hard, I had all the time in the world. The track crossed with a cross country skying trail and I finally went out of the forest, giving me a chance to have a look at the mountain I climbed yesterday. I also saw the cliffs and wondered how I managed to get down that way.

Quickly after I started walking on the dirt road towards Whitehorse a car slowed down by my side and asked me if I wanted a ride. You bet! I would have normally refused but walking with wet shoes on the dirt road didn’t thrill me more than that, so I accepted. He opened the boot of his car and asked me if I minded sitting on the tail as his dog was occupying the passenger sit. The poor dog just had an operation and couldn’t be moved. For the better, as it meant staying outside and watching the mountains getting smaller, much nicer than being inside a car. I enjoyed the few minutes ride. I got dropped off a few km away from Whitehorse as he was taking another road. I walked slowly under the sun, watching the town getting bigger and bigger, more and more cars passing by. I was already starting to miss the mountains.

In town I looked for an outdoor shop and found none, so I went to Canadian Tires which I hoped would have camping mats. And a lighter, I also bought a lighter. Sitting against a wall, in the sun, I took my socks and shoes off and dried everything. The sun was shining high and the wind blowing hard so not before long my trousers and socks were dry. I bought some food and filled my water bag before going back in the mountains.

Yesterday, after dropping the hitchhiker downtown Prince George, I drove South for another hour before stopping. It was getting really foggy and dark so there wasn’t much to see.

The car was all frosty when I woke up but the night was warmer than any other. I’m peeling my layers as I get closer to Vancouver.

The morning was simply a photo treat. Low warm light, fog, it snowed during the night but there were a few patches of blue sky, just perfect.

I’m not sure if it’s easy to see on this photo, but most of the trees burnt, ashes leaving the face of the mountain all gray.

Today’s stop is by 100 Mile House, a little town along the highway. I stopped there for no other reason than its name. And again I managed to find a nice place full of locals, free wireless internet, and most importantly: a great pecan pie. It’s called the Chartreuse Moose.

I’m then going to continue getting closer to Vancouver, as tomorrow I’ll have to give the car back. I think I’ll spend the night near Hope, not too far from Vancouver to be able to get there quickly tomorrow morning, but far enough to feel that I’m not there just yet. There’s definitely some melancholy in the air, but a possible trip to Whitehorse keeps me smiling :)

Back on the road, feeling refreshed and cleaned from the surfing, direction Ucluelet, Tofino’s sister. It’s supposed to be less touristic than Tofino, but don’t get it wrong, it’s still a surfer’s town. Houses do have their numbers written on surfboards.

I slowly drive through the town. Another place that seems to be expanding really fast, with everywhere newly built allotments taking over the forest. I’m trying to get a good spot to capture the sunset (which again is amazingly beautiful) but the tasks revels itselft rather tricky. I see signs on the road saying something like “pull of the highway to see the wildlife”. Sure, I’d love too! But each time I do pull out the ‘road’ (no way this is a highway) it’s to end up in the driveway of someone’s house. I just can’t seem to get close enough to the coast (well, unless I go to the port but I’ve already done that too many times).

As I decide to leave Ucluelet and drive to Port Alberni I see a sign “Sea View Properties”, as in, there is land to build your property on, and with that name, how could you not get a view on the sea? So I turn around and take that road which brings me where I’d never thought I could get, at least not by car, opposite Ucluelet, on the other side of the ridge. Now I can see the very spot I took the photo from, and I’m standing right where I was pointing my camera to less than an hour ago.

I continue driving and make a turn where the sign “Sea View Properties” goes. The paved road becomes a dirt road. It brings back memories from Iceland. Everything in the car starts to shake and vibrates. I am finally going find out what the Jeep is made of. Pretty good driving I must say. The direction is just perfect, not to stiff, which is tiring when driving for long periods, but stiff enough so that there’s nothing lost between the hand turning the wheel drive and the wheels. Anyway, I drive, drive, drive, and never get to see the ocean, only pine trees touching the sky.

The sun is setting down and the fuel going low. I give myself another 20m on that road and I’ll have to turn around and get back to Port Alberni. The further I go and the closer I think I’m getting to a fantastic view point, which in addition probably has yet to be seen by many. And suddenly I’m back where I started. Back on the paved road. So where is the sea view? I wonder.

And Im back on the number 4 road that connects the East side of the Island to the West side. And again, I have to repeat it, this road really is one of the best I’ve driven on.

I can see really dark clouds in front of me, so I know I have to hurry if I want to take some shots before the rain. I sometimes get to see the mountains on the other side of the lake, but by the time I stop (when I can stop) it’s gone. Or there is an horrible electric/phone/whatever cable spoiling the view. I climb rocks and sometimes manage to get high enough to get rid of the cables. And bang, the road gets white and it’s haling again. And the night comes.

I’m just starting to think that I’m now “just” driving, as in, to go from a point to another, rather than enjoying the ride, when, switching from the overheard CD to the radio, I get some really nice songs. Now you’re talking. And after a couple of really good songs, I switch the station to skip a crap one, and I end up on 105.7 (the locals from Port Alberni will now what station that is). They’re airing a concert of Jill Barber, recorded in Halifax, in the Rebecca Cohn Auditorium, with the Nova Scotia Symphony Orchestra.

“A young version of Edith Piaf in english”, that the first though that comes to my mind. And songs after songs, I just love her music and can’t wait to get back home and listen to it again. Or maybe I’ll be able to get a CD in Vancouver, if there is one, and play it while driving.

I’m now a few miles from Port Alberni, where I stopped to listen to the rest of the concert, parked in the rest area where I’ll spend the night. I’ll go to Mount Arrowsmith tomorrow, enough driving for today.