Whistler Wilderness Ride Day Two, Part 2

The Climb

I was riding shotgun in Don’s truck as it lurched and rumbled up a steep and narrow logging load, towing a trailer of mustangs. Three fellow guests and Johnny, Don’s stolid black and white dog, filled the back seat and Jess, a wrangler from England with honey-colored hair and a quick smile, rode in the truck bed. A second truck and trailer followed behind. The mountainside loomed on our left, above huge roadside boulders and carpets of muddy clay which marked the aftermath of landslides. We stared down from the passenger side as the truck skirted a gap where a chunk of the dirt road had been washed away from the edge of the precipitous drop off below. A nervous silence filled the cab. To distract us, Don called out features on the range of stunning peaks in the distance like the vertical swaths of light green marking regrowth in the wake of avalanches and the ghostly grey army of skeletons that stood where a wildfire had burned.

Jess jumped out of the truck bed to open a gate. We soon reached a clearing and the trucks came to a stop. Everyone milled around, adjusting tack and mounting up. Astride Lonesome, I relaxed the muscles in my feet and ankles. I filled my lungs with the crisp air and exhaled slowly, keeping my spine erect but letting my shoulders settle. Just like when I’m meditating, I thought. I handed over my impulse to strive to a benign and loving Great Spirit, and asked for help in doing only what was necessary today. Brian, the lanky, white-haired horse trainer who’d driven the other truck, brought me back into the world. “Everything good?”

I gave a nod and a smile. “All set.”

He motioned me over to the valley side of the dirt lot. I gave Lonesome a squeeze with my legs, and we followed. Brian pointed out a couple rivulets of white below the summit of a nearby peak. “Waterfalls,” he said.

“Oh, wow!” I blurted like a little kid. I pictured how enormous they must be up close, imagined their deafening roar.

Then Jess called out for everyone to line up behind her. Lonesome had been a bit cranky towards a younger horse behind him yesterday, so today the wranglers moved us up one spot, ahead of Elizabeth on the placid bay Captain. This placed us directly behind Jess and her dark horse Billy. Don issued our final instruction: Return with the most-asked question about today’s ride. And with that, we set off on an adventure that would take us up to an elevation of 6000 feet.

For a long while we traveled a winding, hilly path with the mountain extending upwards on our left, eating huckleberries (which are sweet when ripened to look like large black blueberries) as we grabbed them off bushes along the way. Bright streaks of red alpine paintbrushes and purple Alaskan fire lined the path and an occasional jewel-hued dragonfly buzzed over my head. At times the trail narrowed so that thin branches of young pines and cottonwoods slapped our helmets and brushed our knees. We crossed creeks and cantered in spots where the trail was less rocky, then made our way past Bacardi Lake, which had earned its name as the spot where Dudley, Don’s business partner, would celebrate the end of the workday with his brother back in their logging days.

Eventually Jess brought Billy to a halt and turned him across the path so that he faced the mountainside. She announced that we were about to begin our ascent and should speak up now if we needed our stirrup length adjusted, or our horse’s cinch tightened. Unless she told us to stop, Jess instructed, we were to encourage our horses to keep moving as they climbed. This would ensure that no horse became stuck on ground too close to vertical. I was a bit puzzled by all this, because the path ahead didn’t look any different than the one we’d been on. Jess reminded us to lean forward a bit while ascending and assured us it’s fine to grab a hunk of mane to hold onto, because this won’t hurt the horse. My insides tightened. What kind of ride was this? “And try not to look down!” was her final advice.

Then with a cluck of her tongue and a flap of her boots, Jess sent Billy climbing DIRECTLY up the side of the mountain. It took a second to comprehend what I was seeing. It looked impossible. Insane.

Suddenly I remembered my job was to follow Jess, and laughed to myself. “I guess we’re doing this, Lonesome.” My body was humming with more excitement than apprehension as I turned my horse onto the mountainside. I urged him up with my seat and kicked my heels. “Let’s go!”

For forty-five minutes our horses picked their way up a slender, bouldery trail full of switchbacks. When we paused to let our mounts catch their breath someone called out, “Do we go down the same way we came up?”

Jess grinned. “Yes, we do.”

After scaling one more daunting series of hairpin turns up a near-vertical stretch, we arrived at a clearing more stone than soil and dismounted. After securing Lonesome to a narrow pine near his buddies, I looked up. There was the summit, just above us.

Jayden, the other wrangler, told us to pick our spots and enjoy our lunches. Louise and her daughter perched atop a huge striated grey and tan rock overlooking the valley. I found a wide ledge on its left side and sat with my back resting against the boulder and my legs outstretched. Fragments of gleaming white quartz lay scattered around me. I was ravenous and devoured the turkey sandwich in silence, staring at the breathtaking vista of a vast, pine-filled valley and its surrounding peaks.

This experience was so different from my daily life, it barely seemed real. I did it!, I thought. I had listened to my heart’s desire, and when it whispered, Adventure! I’d answered, Yes. I booked the trip, got on the plane, and now here I was on a mountaintop in British Columbia. Few people have seen this magnificent spot on Earth from this vantage point. My heart swelled in gratitude.