AN ADMITTEDLY SHALLOW CONVERSATION but not one that should be mistaken for frivolous chatter. It is instead Harland’s attempt to negotiate our safe passage through some decidedly dangerous territory. After all, if there are any grumpy grizzlies out there, we certainly don’t want to annoy them by stumbling in unannounced and uninvited.
At this point of the adventure, the best I could manage would be a very convincing act of playing dead. Harland continues to call out, but whether the bears hear him or not is hard to say because—luckily for us—they never do answer back. The one-sidedness of the conversation pleases me a great deal as I am no longer physically or emotionally prepared to deal with an aggressive bear encounter. Suffering from the symptoms of heat exhaustion, for me there would be no valiant stand against tooth and claw, nor any mad dash for safety. Nope, fight or flight was out of the question. At this point of the adventure, the best I could manage would be a very convincing act of playing dead. As I again begin to stagger up the trail towards the voice, I find myself reflecting on a quote attributed to the renowned arctic explorer Vilhjalrnur Stefansson. Apparently, this tough-as-nails northern traveler had little patience for those of us who suffer
misfortune in the wilderness. “Adventures,” he said, “are a sign of incompetence.” This from a guy who, despite his years of experience and all his meticulous planning, was still forced to flee polar bears on a fairly regular basis. The fact is there is no way for a person heading out into the bush to prepare for absolutely every possible eventuality. I mean, I had trained hard for this hike. I had taken every precaution to deal with the heat—drinking volumes of water, eating high-energy food, even making sure all the heavy stuff was in Harland’s pack—but still, I succumbed. I only hoped that my always competent hiking companion was more prepared than me and had the foresight to bring a shovel. That way he could just bury me here and be spared the unenviable task of dragging my sun-bloated body back down this bloody mountain. When I eventually catch up to Harland, I find him annoyingly cheerful. Though he is flushed and his sweat-soaked shirt is plastered to his skin, he is still smiling way too much for my liking. “How ya doin’?” he asks. I resist the urge to throw something at him. Sitting around the kitchen table looking at the map, it had looked so easy. Drive up the Palliser River to the trailhead, park the truck at the boundary to Height of the Rockies Provincial Park, and then hike up Joffre Creek to Sylvan Pass. From there climb the pass, look down on the headwaters of the White River, then continue to the rugged and desolate beauty of Limestone Lakes. Piece of cake, right? Well, as it turns out, carrying a 45-pound pack for 17 kilometres up a trail that gains 4,438 feet in elevation is tougher than you would think. And trying to do it all in one day when the temperatures exceed 34 degrees Celsius is, well, just silly.
Well, as it turns out, carrying a 45-pound pack for 17 kilometres up a trail that gains 4,438 feet in elevation is tougher than you would think.