Four days in Skoki Valley.
Here lies a lengthy post from our time in Skoki Valley. A trip planned since the end of January with our friends Brit & Sam, we ended up going without them on account of the fact Brit got accepted into a grad program at a university in Toronto. I wrote more about that here.
What started out as a relatively pleasant, sunny Sunday morning for our hike into the backcountry turned into a fast-moving storm system halfway through the day. We came prepared, donning our jackets and pack covers when the thunder began booming ominously overhead. We quickened our pace to clear the 2.3km lake on our right (Ptarmigan Lake). It’s not often we get a thunderstorm in the Rockies, but when we do, they are strong and tend to be more dangerous, given our higher elevation. We did our best to move swiftly despite some rather inconvenient knee pain I was dealing with; side effects of a knee injury from earlier in the year.
Typically I do not love hiking in the rain, but I welcomed it during our trip. It felt cleansing, refreshing; better than hiking in 33ºC with the sun beating down on us all day. It added a layer of peace and calm to our journey into the backcountry; a much needed reprieve from the chaos of our lives at that moment in time.
When we finally got to camp, we caught a long enough break in the rain to set up our tent and our tarp without getting soaked. We took care to place our belongings inside our tent to keep them safe from the porcupines that would eat the rubber off our boots & poles.
After setting up, I hobbled with my aching knee down to the lake, hoping the icy water would seize the inflammation settling in. I was surprised to find the temperature bearable, non-glacial. I stood in it for a while, enjoying being in the water—a rarity in the mountains.
Despite the bear warnings, we saw none at our campground. The next day, we packed up to move onto our next campsite. Thanks to my knee, a short and relatively flat 7.7km hike took us most of the day, but the frequent stops made sure we had more time to take in the views of the valley and the glacial lakes as we walked (or, in my case, hobbled) past. When we arrived at Skoki Lodge (a historic lodge built in the 1930s, the first of its kind to specifically host skiers in Canada & North America), I enjoyed a beer and lowered my legs into an icy cold creek before we hiked the remaining 1km to our campsite, where we would stay for 2 nights.
It was there that we slept to the sound of a booming thunderstorm that lasted for hours; encountered a large deer that wandered within 1m of our dinner table; sat by the river and talked of life, of work, of ambition, of knowing oneself. We took things slowly, an antidote to what seemed like the frighteningly ferocious pace that had been set for us since the start of the year. We slept in; we made food slowly; we walked as if to plant every step; everything like molasses. It felt meditative; something to bring back with us when we returned to “the real world”.
Nature is where I go to reconnect with my essence; the truth of who I am when all else is removed. Truly, nothing has brought me more peace than walking for miles and miles with only what I have on my back to spend days at a time in places like this. Places I hope will never be spoiled by the hum of electricity or the revving of car engines. Places that demand respect, awe, and wonder. Places that remind us of our insignificance; of how incredible and important our planet is; of how imperative it is that we protect it. To be connected to nature is to stay connected to ourselves; who we really are at our essence, when we strip all the other narratives away. It's the reset, the deep sense of equanimity and quiet reflection, that brings me back every time, despite the sore feet, the aching muscles, the heavy pack.
I loved it so much here that I feel desperate to return, even if it means braving camping in subzero temperatures. It featured some of the most beautiful terrain I’ve seen in the Rockies, be it in a downpour or on a bluebird day. If you ever get the chance, I hope you get to see it too.
