Little Sliammon Lake here I come…
Once upon a sunny April afternoon…
Well, the sun was shining this afternoon, which is not something to be taken for granted, and I had a hankering to see an old trail I haven’t traveled for a long time…
When we first moved to Powell River I couldn’t get enough of heading off into the bush with Louie to discover trails and see where this one or that one led. We rambled happily for hours at a time, discovering, exploring, loving the outdoors…. Living on the edge of wilderness as we do, it took a while to exhaust the possibilities! But after about 3 years of this the trails didn’t seem so new anymore, many of our favorite hikes and haunts got logged (as in trees felled and dragged away!), and….my hip said “enough, slow down.” Old trails were neglected; only ones my ‘beater’ bike could access were considered….]
But today that old trail to Little Sliammon Lake (named after the local “Indian” tirbe) beckoned. Last time I was down it there were tags all in a row along the trail and heading off into the bush, logging markers…it was only a matter of time… so having heard that I could expect to see the results of the logging I set off with Louie and a wee backpack with snack and notebook (just case a creative moment struck), oh, and for the first time, a camera.
Only this time, I got to the trailhead by bike, saving both joints and time ( : The commencement of the trail hadn’t changed, first the muddy, deeply rutted road, then the trail leading up out of mud into moss and tree roots and lichen-licked rock and on into the deep dark forest. Only today, the forest didn’t seem so deep. Firstly, the sun was shining. And secondly, away off through the trees there seemed to be light where there had not been before.
[I must say this took some of the spookiness out of the hike. I remember my first hike in this woods. The cedars are so old and tall that they create a very dark and silent wood, and then any sound you do hear is a heart-thumper: “What was that?!” I well remember stopping in my tracks on one of those early hikes and debating whether to go on into the gloom, or to turn back. Never did figure out what the sound was… But today, no such noises, and the sense of a clearing ahead where sun was shining gave a whole new aspect to the hike.]
And then we came upon it: the logging road in the middle of our ‘wilderness’. (What is it about a road that takes the mystique away from a place?)….. But in exchange for the rudeness of blatantly showing that someone had been here before us, there was the joy of finding sunshine in a dark place! 
One benefit of all the felled trees is this new but rustic bridge allowing me to keep my feet dry in the this swampy area as we near the lake… And a photo needs somebody in it so Louie had to patiently pose while I got the camera to co-operate. (It’s getting old and finicky.)
And now for a photo in better lighting…
And just beyond the bridge Little Sliammon came into view, looking like a rarer gem then I had remembered it. Amazing what some sunshine will do! The water was still as an old mirror. The little island looked enchanting…
The surface was only still till Louie got in to lap it up and refresh his weary paws…
We had reached our destination, more charming than ever. Funny thing though, it used to be enough to find a lovely place and sit and enjoy it. Now it seems a little lonely, like I’d better hurry home with plans to bring the whole family for a picnic!
A canoe is nestled in the trees beside the trail, wonder if someone would mind our borrowing it? I’d sure like to go explore that wee island. Why are islands so enchanting?
And so we head directly home but this time along the logging road, till the trail runs across it and we cut back into the woods…I stop mid-way on a bright bluff in a rocky, moss-covered clearing to journal a bit and worship a bit and reflect on how things have changed since last I walked this trail… for me and for the trail. It’s been a good way to spend a sunny April afternoon.
