Tlools Valley Through Hike a Bike

An ill conceived idea? Maybe, but it had been on my mind for quite some time to ride out and hike a bike through the Tlools drainage from the north to south. At only 15 km how hard could it be? The Big Johnson and I set off to give it a try on Saturday evening after work. Geoff and Ftom accompanied us to our first night campsite at Apple Point on Brewster Lake.

Saturday night crew, The Big Johnson, Geoff, Me, Ftom.

Apple Point, ended up quiet except for some croaking

Sunday morning The Big Johnson and I set off  for Jessie Lake and the north end of the Tlools Valley.
Once reaching the end of the road we eventually found a rough trail that led us to Myra lake. We were feeling good about our progress, that was about to change! The forest was mostly very challenging to make headway with the occasional short section of relatively easy going.

Loaded Krampus w old rail trestle in background

Easy bush

Sulfur Shelf  Fungus

Mostly we were on the inside looking out

Myra Lake looking north

Scaly Vase Chanterelle

Thistle Meadow they started out hub high ended up over the handle bars!

Tlools lake is fed only by snow melt

MY Krampus The Big Johnson in the distance on his Krampus

Return to the forest

Filtering water at Hawarth Lake

Night two camp

Tlools creek

I took very few pictures on the third day, it was simply "get on with it" time, and we did. Physically it is devastating, pushing/pulling/lifting/lowering/dragging a fully loaded bike through trail-less forest. I think my text response to Geoff  sums it up best.

  Geoff:  How was the hike a bike? 

  Me:  15hr over two days of hell, 16 for Greg. Huge trees down, lots of them, massive boulders a plenty, wind shrapnel everywhere, wasps and Devils Club.
12 stings total 9 for Greg.
Beautiful lakes, awesome meadow of Thistle, head high.
Tired, beaten, bused and sore.
Been there done that, no need to go back.

  Geoff: So to sum it up in one word was it "fun"?

  Me: Rewarding

And so it was, for part of day three Greg and I had gone our separate ways, Greg preferring the creek and me the forest. In reality I feel we both needed to suffer alone.
When I reached the end of the valley I felt great joy I had made it, then guilt. Where is Greg? Is he OK? He had looked so tired. How long do I wait before going back or calling for a search. My head was swimming in thought. I sat down cooked and ate some noodles, I began to formulate a plan. A familiar sound? A disk brake squealing in protest pierced the forest and Greg arrived.  He was smiling.