…Breakwind Mountain.

There is something magical that happens when two strapping young lads head out into the wilderness, pitch a tent and breakwind together.

Recently, I did just this with my buddy from the farm, Laird. We hiked way up into the Monashee Mountains, which is one of the ranges just this side of the Rockies.

We rose early on Saturday morning after a night dining and drinking with his folks and some friends. We drove for several hours in his dad’s lowered, and then raised again shiny Datsun 1800 Ute (truck). About half way up a rocky logging road I asked Laird if we were equipped with a spare or two. He replied "No" and explained that because the tyres were low profile, there weren’t any spares! Haha, that was comforting to know.

We made it to the car park none the less and began our long ascent by hiking fully loaded into a beautiful old Cedar forest. This first few hours of the hike were fairly easy and we reached the first possible destination pretty quick. However the lake was below us, and we both decided that we wanted to keep going up before heading down to anything. We took off again clumping through the steadily changing trees. Now the next few hours were not so easy. The trail took a sudden turn for the sky and we found ourselves traversing again and again for what seemed an eternity.

I love hiking. I love the expectation of the unknown before you set out. I love the pain you feel when you are pushing up a trail. I love that you can stop for two minutes and feel like superman when you start up again. I don’t like that when you stop for more than 10 minutes you feel like Bruce Banner after an episode as the Hulk. I love it when you can be really struggling and everything starts to hurt, your thoughts slip into negative patterns and you just want to give up and throw off your pack. Then you realize the waistband on your undies is twisted and you straighten it out, with that, all your worries, pain and suffering disappears. I love how it gets steeper just before the top, then it peters out and you finally top that crest that you have been aiming at in your mind all day, you fall down the first few steps of the other side and everything goes floppy. I love the food you eat when hiking, everything tastes so good when you have really earned it. I love it that up on a mountain you can’t hear anything other than the sounds of wind and water. It is truly peaceful.

When we did top that crest we found ourselves not too far from a lakeside campsite. We kicked back for a while and took a load off. Our campsite was right under the shadow of Slate Mountain, the looming presence of which, was as ominous as it’s name suggests. Laird announced that after dinner we should scale the mountain for a bit of fun. I liked the idea of watching the sunset over the other side and so naively agreed. We cooked a meal of pasta and stuff and then stashed our food up the Bear Cache, which believe it or not is a necessity up there because of the likely hood of GRIZZLY BEARS coming into your tent in search of food. (We had to take all sorts of precautions to ensure we did not even have the smell of toothpaste anywhere near us when we went to sleep later).

So we started our second ascent of the day, without a pack this time, and without any real idea of what the time was. The first part of the climb was quite pleasant. The base of Slate Mountain was a beautiful meadow filled with big boulders that had, at one time or another, toppled down the mountain side. Strangely as the climb got steeper my legs seemed to get more tired. Fortunately Laird had some pretty nasty blisters on his feet from the days hike so that almost slowed him down to my pace. I struggled up the unending stair until we reached some patches of snow, left over from last winter! We were definitely high now with snow still present in the middle of summer. After plenty of whingeing and an equal amount of encouragement we made it to the top. The view out both sides was truly worth it. The sun had not set yet and you could see clear out over all the surrounding mountain tops, and on the other side right across to the Rockies a couple of mountain ranges over.

Laird decided that he could not come all this way with out climbing to the very top of the mountain before we went down again. Feeling uplifted from the view and satisfaction at reaching this choice spot I agreed to scramble up the mixture of sand and slate that would take us to the peak of the mountain. So we did, and it was not so hard actually. We plotted a path and scrambled across and up and reached another crest. This spot was also nice with an equally spectacular view. “But it’s not really the top” said Laird, pointing to a slightly higher peak just a little way over. It was starting to get dark and I had to think quick. I was able to pull out a wise old man cliché about there always being a peak higher than the one you are on before insisting that we head back down. We slid back down the slate and sand, then hopped over the rocks and snow and finally stumbled through the meadow in the dark and back to camp to rest.

Just before falling asleep laird filled me in on his families violent sleeping history. He told me that his brother once broke a friends nose by thrashing around in his sleep. And he said he recently punched his girlfriend in the face when they last slept in the very tent we were about to sleep in. Needless to say I did not sleep very well that night. Everytime Laird turned, which he did regularly and with great gusto, I would flinch half expecting a fist in the mouth.

The next morning I awoke feeling bruised and battered and Laird never even laid a finger on me. Over the course of the previous day I had discovered a new injury. My knees have always been bad. My shoulder was in danger of being a nuisance as I had hurt it pretty badly a few weeks before. But these injuries did not manifest. What I did not expect was for my hip to implode on me. I must have hurt it hiking into the campsite but then I had completely ruined it scaling the mountain. Nonetheless we hiked further that next day. We left most of our luggage at the camp and headed for the next lake which we had seen from the mountain the previous evening. Laird was pretty keen and moved pretty fast, I had to call on the speed of the cougar just to keep up. We reached the lake and my wasn’t it beautiful. Surrounded by alpine meadow and the glimmering with sunlight, it reflected an image of the mountain we had just hiked from. “Great, now we can rest”, I thought naively. Meanwhile Laird was studying a map and announced that he was heading for the next lake and the Moon Valley. As tired as I was I just could not sit back and miss out on a visit to Moon Valley, so I once again trudged on after Laird. Now my hip was really sore. Every step felt like my hip was really sore and every time my foot hit the ground it really hurt. Then when I took another step my hip would hurt and then I knew that the next step was going to really hurt too. I learned a lot about the nature of pain and suffering in those few hours. In particular I came to realize how much of it is self inflicted, that I am the architect of my own depraved self punishment. I had to call on the strength of the Bear just to keep going. Laird was marching well ahead of me. The meadows we were walking through were very beautiful but they seemed to never end, we kept saying “The lake will be just over the next rise” or “just past that group of trees”. But it didn’t appear. We reached a point were we decided enough was enough and we should head back toward the camp. Then we both cast our eyes over the landscape ahead. “Perhaps it is just around that next bend”, we laughed. I called on the eyes of the hawk. “Yes just around the next bend”, I declared. And we gave it one more try. Sure enough just around that bend the valley opened up and an even more beautiful lake lay ahead of us. So we sat on the edge of the lake and ate the piece of cake we had been saving for just such an occasion.

Now we found ourselves in the precarious position of being 20 kms away from our campsite and at least 30 kms away from where the car was parked. It was midday on Sunday and we had to be at work at 7 o’clock the next morning. Now in my experience the second half a journey is always the fastest. And fortunately this proved true on this day. We were both struggling mind you. Laird had taken off his boots due to his blisters and was hiking barefoot. He suggested I do the same as the meadow grass was nice and soft. I literally could not be bothered with the extra effort taking my shows off would take. So I marched on, quite delirious with the pain of my own suffering. Then we reached the second lake and the woodland path that would take us to our camp. At this point I decided to try the barefoot hiking that Laird was raving about. He was right it felt great to throw off the shackles of my boots and enjoy the feeling of moss under foot. And thankfully this new distraction took away the pain of my hip and I felt like a million dollars on the hike back to camp. The rest of the hike was pretty uneventful, a long hard day in pretty hot conditions with our somewhat lighter, heavy packs. By the time we reached the car I was so exhausted I just lay on my back laughing and enjoying the pure ecstasy of being completely still and not using a single muscle in my body. That week at work I continued to suffer my own suffering, but it was satisfying. I knew I had earned it and that pain was all mine.

Things I learnt on the mountain:

- Pain hurts

- Laird is a maniac

- It is not how far he hikes but how much he farts that maketh the man.

Marshall Bravestar