In my last blog post, I left off the story of my trek across the Howe Sound Crest Trail when I got to the Lions. Now onto the conclusion of this story of my first solo backpacking trip.

An Unexpected Injury

On one of my more technical scrambles, I lifted my foot up high past my hip to pull myself up onto the next landing. It was at this point that I heard a hissing noise coming from below me, followed by a sharp pain on my upper inner thigh. I hurriedly undid my pants to figure out what had happened and found a nasty red burn on my thigh. Below is a photo of how it looked the next day, but you get the idea.

I had been carrying my mini airhorn in my right hip pocket. In my infinite wisdom, I had decided that it needed to be connected and accessible so that if an animal popped out of nowhere, I would be able to deploy it without delay. Since I didn’t have a lanyard and it didn’t fit properly in my pack’s hip belt pocket, I chose to carry it in my pants pocket. Big mistake. In doing my scramble, I accidentally set it off, causing an aerosol burn. I quickly pulled out the canister to try and figure out what first aid was was needed. Soap and water was the recommended treatment, presumably to wash away the chemical compound that caused the burn. Dang.

Water was in short supply and I didn’t have soap. In my pained state, I recalled something about treating the stings from jellyfish without access to a first aid kit. In my pain, I recalled an episode of Friends in which Chandler had urinated on Monica on an episode of Friends in which she got stung by a jellyfish. I wasn’t sure whether or not this “treatment” was a myth, but I did need to flush the compound from the wound, but I also needed to conserve water. After a cursory look around me to insure that I was indeed alone, I proceeded to pee on my hand and use the urine to wash affected area. This did end up relieving the sting quite a bit. I followed up used some hand sanitizer to clean up and moved on. (*For the record, I am NOT a doctor, nor should this be taken as medical advice in any way, shape or form. It was the desperate actions of a woman with limited options.)

Racing the Sun: From Lions to Magnesia Meadows

The further I went, the more distracted I became by the awe-inspiring beauty of the trail. Being alone with it was like being alone with the creator of all things. I was moved to tears a number of times. I also found myself stopping and taking photos every few steps, like the one below looking back on the Lions, desperately trying to capture the fleeting beauty of each moment, knowing that no photo ever could. I didn’t realize how much of a time suck this was, nor did I realize how much more challenging the trail would become between the Lions and Magnesia Meadows where I would camp. I had read the description on OutdoorVancouver.com that innocuously mentions “from the West Lion to Magnesia Meadows is about 4 km of technical trail,” but was confident I would be able to make it through in good time. This was an optimistic assumption. In actuality, it was 4km going up and down several peaks, with a LOT of precarious scrambling. Four kilometres hadn’t sounded like much in mind. At the time, I felt like I had all the time in the world before sunset to make it to where I planned to camp at Magnesia Meadows. As such, I stopped so many times to capture the beauty of the landscapes with my camera. Little did I know, that those four kilometres were the hardest section of the trail and would take the most time proportionately. Had I known that, I probably wouldn’t have dawdled so much.

Losing the Trail On James Peak

After doing the rope traverse onto James Peak, as seen here on the left, I continued on what I thought was the trail until it ended in a fairly steep drop-off. I looked down to assess. I supposed it was possible to make it down that way, but it was far from ideal and not something I wanted to attempt without a safety line. I then realized I hadn’t actually seen a trail marker leading that way, even though many feet had stamped out what looked to be a trail. I turned back, and found another similar trail leading downward. It also ended with a steep drop-off. I retraced my steps until I found the last marker I had seen. I roamed around, looking at the map I had on my phone. I looked at the sun, and started to worry. Being alone, I swore out loud to myself numerous times. I kept looking, going back and forth across the ridge for over 20 minutes, feeling more and more urgency. I decided to call my BC Parks friend to ask for help but got his voice mail. There was nothing to be done but for me to buckle down and figure it out. It was too late and I was too far on the trail to turn back. And I had to get to Magnesia Meadows to replenish my water supply. I opened Google Maps on my phone and, keeping it open in my hand, walked in the direction where the trail was supposed to be. I had to scramble down a rock face en route. Nothing overly dangerous and certainly better than the steeper ones I had faced earlier. Eventually, I found my way back on the trail, but this incident really set me back.

Bushwhacking and Steep Rock Scrambles

I tried to hurry down the mountain to make up for lost time, but the trail was so overgrown, it slowed me down even more. By the time I got down from that mountain, I had thought Magnesia Meadows was right around the corner. I followed the trail until I got to the foot of David Peak, where the map and trail descriptions I had indicated that the trail flanks around it peak. Google Maps also confirmed this. The flags on the trail told a different story. Rather than flanking, there were a series of brand new markers 5-6 of them in a row, close together, urging me up the peak rather than around it. At that point, I really didn’t want to have to scale yet another mountain. I was tired and was losing daylight. On the other hand, the trail didn’t appear to be as well marked on the flank. I went with my gut and chose the route that had more flags. It was a real struggle. There were a lot more rock scrambles than I would have liked in the state of fatigue and stress I was in, but I trekked on.

Me, Myself, and I

It was around this time that I started talking to myself out loud. Do you ever feel like there are two yous? The “you” that’s in your head and the you that’s your body? I started to experience that split more keenly as the me that was in my head started to say things to the me that was my body. Mostly I would just encourage myself through difficult sections, reassure myself when I was scared, telling myself that I was strong and capable and that was going to make it because there was no other choice. Sometimes I would complain to myself, “%&($!!! Not another fcking rock scramble.” But every time I had a thought like that, I would immediately remind myself of how far I had come and how I had to get through it so suck it up. I was glad for the conversation. It kept me focused and helped me through when I was tired, frustrated, or scared.

The Dying of the Light

Speaking of scared, as I got to the crest of David Peak, I started to lose the light. The sun was past the horizon and it was getting dark fast, as you can see in the photo below that I took from there. Being alone in the woods on a trail in the middle of nowhere in pure wilderness is unsettling to say the least. It was around that time that I started to experience a gnawing anxiety that wouldn’t let up. I became anxious about running into a bear or a cougar without warning. I was also anxious about not being able to find my way in the dark. I became more and more anxious that I wouldn’t make it to Magnesia Meadows before I lost the light completely. My mind was racing from one anxious thought to the next. At one point, when my self-doubt was particularly strong, I started to wonder of the old woman I had met at the start of the trail had been right about me. Who was I to be taking on such a long, dangerous trail by myself? I wanted to talk to myself to find re-assurance, but part of me also felt like if I did, I would just voice all these anxieties. It was at that time I decided to play my super upbeat workout playlist. I just played it on my iPhone’s speaker, hoping the noise would serve to scare off any animals that might come my way. As I hiked, I sang along to the familiar songs, which helped me stay positive and motivated. It re-energized me and I plodded along with renewed vigour. I avoided using my headlamp, deciding I would only take it out when I really needed it. It turned out that I wouldn’t.

My Refuge at Magnesia Meadows

As I passed Mount Harvey on my left, I knew I was going to make it. I kept moving quickly as it got darker and darker. I came to a small lake on my right. Knowing it was probably the water source for the Magnesia Meadows camp area, I stopped and quickly filled up my bottles and kept moving. Soon after, I spotted the red emergency shelter (right) marking the Magnesia Meadows camp area. I had made it. It was 8:51pm. Just in time because that’s when it started to get really dark. I decided it was not worth trying to muck around in the dark to find the trees I needed for my hammock, so I set it up in the shelter then texted my husband to let him know I made it. I had actually avoided texting him while I was racing the sun because I didn’t want him to worry with all the uncertainties and the last thing I needed was to have to deal with a stream of worried texts while I was trying to focus on the trail. I only wanted to text in him one of two scenarios: 1) to let him know I made it to my destination safe and sound, or 2) if I was in dire straights and needed help.

By that point, I was not only physically exhausted from the hike, but emotionally exhausted from all the anxieties I had experienced on the trail. Even if I had the perfect trees right in front of me, I wanted to stay in the shelter at that moment in time. The dark was so penetrating and the my sense of aloneness so pervasive. Staying in the shelter was like giving myself a much-needed security blanket. Sure, it gave my body a break from the elements. It was definitely warmer and more comfortable than being out and exposed, but what it really gave me was an enclosure to retreat to made me feel more safe and protected. It gave my mind a respite after a long, emotionally trying day.

I thoroughly enjoyed every scrap of food I had left washed down with a hot cup of coffee. For dessert, I knocked back some acetaminophen with a couple of ounces of a 12-year Balvenie Scotch my father had left me on a recent visit. I cozied up in my awkwardly angled hammock (my hang points were way too close for an ideal set-up), and drifted off to sleep listening to podcast episodes of She Explores. It was hard to stay comfortable but I mostly slept through the night. I only had to get up once to relieve myself. The sky was clear and the stars were everywhere. It was so dark, but oh so beautiful. I found myself wanting to linger outside to enjoy the beauty of the night... but not for too long as I got cold and the dark seemed to close in all around me.

New Day, New Insights

I woke up around 7am. This is sleeping in for me. I usually wake up around 5:30am at home. I clearly needed the rest. I brewed my Starbucks Via coffee packet, packed up my stuff and got back on the trail. From Magnesia Meadows until the end, the HSCT is mostly downhill and easy to follow. There are few parts you have to go up and down, but nothing like the previous 4km. Between Magnesia Meadows and Brunswick Lake, the trail takes you past a few small pools of water and some lovely tree lines. It doesn’t have the sweeping majesty of the Lions and the views of the Howe Sound, but it does have its own quiet, remote charm.

Everything seemed so much better the second day. All the hardest parts were done, both physically and emotionally. I was able to relax, enjoy the good weather and the beauty all around me. I also kept listening to podcasts. Being in a much more relaxed state, I was finding that my creative mind was coming up with some golden ideas for my blog, my business, and my life direction overall, a creativity that had been put temporarily on the back burner the day before when I was in a crisis state of mind. I had gone through hell and came out the other side to reap the mental rewards the come from facing your fears; a renewed sense of self-confidence, an appreciating for the important things in life, and strong sense of clarity of purpose. I made so many mental notes on the trail as I made my way down the meandering mountain trail.

Cleansing My Body and Soul

Soon after, I came across the emergency hut at Brunswick Lake and was soon after greeted by its turquoise blue glacial water, as you can see below. Had I been able to make it this far the day before, I would have preferred to camp at this camp area. For me, it was a lovely respite where I was able to take a quick dip and shed a layer of sweat and grime from my journey. That being said, the cell reception does drop off somewhere on the trail leading there from Magnesia Meadows, so if you do plan to stay there, don’t expect to be able to take calls, check Facebook or make Instagram posts.

I went down the shore, stripped down to my underwear and took a dip in its cool waters with the sun beaming down on me. It was like applying an ice pack to my whole, aching body. It felt glorious to rinse off and put on fresh socks. There is something about cleaning your body in such pure, fresh water that makes you feel so much more clean. Like you’re not just cleaning of a layer of sweat and grime, but cleansing your soul.

I continued on my way feeling so at peace with myself as I went by all the lakes, creeks and waterfalls in the area. Deeks Lake is large, but anti-climactic after being at Brunswick. I felt no need to stop there, quickly making my way around its shores There are scads of blueberries along the way. I wasn’t 100% sure they were blueberries at the time, so I didn’t partake, but I confirmed that they were after I got back, and apparently because of the climate they grow in, they’re the “sweetest blueberries you’ll ever taste”. Hearing this made me mope a little for not having tried them.

First Signs of Civilization

Around 4km from the end of the trail, I ran into the last group of people I would encounter on my journey across the Howe Sound Crest Trail. I was actually a little startled by them. I exchanged a few words with them about my trip. They let me know that I was close to the end and that it was all downhill from there. It was true. Soon after, cell phone service returned. The moment it did, I texted my husband to let him know I was around an hour from the end so that he could drive out to meet me. I also asked him to bring me a change of clean clothes and to make me a fatty keto coffee that I could enjoy on our way to the all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant we planned to visit after I got out.

End of the Line

Soon after this, I started what seemed like an interminable downward slog, somewhat reminiscent of that feeling you get when going down the endless switchbacks after spending a nice night at Garabaldi Lake. The switchbacks on the HSCT aren’t as monotonous in nature as the ones at Garabaldi as some of them meander through the woods a bit longer, but once you get to Trailblazer Lookout the switchbacks become a lot more repetitive. I needed to make good use of my poles at this point. The long downward slog was hard on the knees and my body was tired. I just wanted to be done at that point. For some sections where I felt I could do so safely, I chose to run down to help spare my knees and move more quickly. When I was right near the end, on the part of the trail where cars could still venture up, I got a text from my husband. He was down in the parking lot. Knowing I was so close, he asked if I wanted him to drive up to get me. I answered yes reflexively, but by the time I saw the our smurf blue Subaru Crosstrek making its way up the gravel road, I knew I couldn’t do it. I threw my pack into the trunk and told him that he could turn the car around a little further up the road. I wanted to finish the trail on my own two feet, so that’s exactly what I did. Then, 30 hours after I started my journey, I exited the trail at the parking lot just south of Porteau Cove, concluding the trail. The sense of elation I had when I made it to the parking lot was one I have felt very few times in my life. As my husband pulled up the car and saw me, he was struck by what he saw. He immediately jumped out of the car to capture it in this photo below.

My Supportive Husband

I’d like to point out that my husband was super supportive throughout my whole experience. I actually thought he might not have read the material about the trail that I had sent him before I left because he never voiced any concerns about the difficulty, nor did he offer any safety suggestions. I chatted with him about this on the car ride home. He said, he had in fact read everything and he was in fact anxious about me and my trip, but he kept his worries to himself. He didn’t think there was anything he could have said to help me because he knows I am quite capable when it comes to prepping and planning a backpacking trip. It was the perfect way for him to support me. Not every woman is so lucky. I’ve heard so many stories of women doing this sort of thing, have to deal with the men in their lives either get over-involved, or worse, try to talk them out of a solo excursion. I’m just glad my husband is different and fully trusts my judgment.

Final Thoughts

Hiking the Howe Sound Crest Trail by myself and staying overnight on the trail was one of the most physically and mentally challenging experiences I have ever had. I learned a lot from the experience, not just about hiking and backpacking, but about myself. I am generally a happy, confident person who is very comfortable in my skin and not afraid to try new things or face challenges. Putting myself through the external and internal adversities of that hike taught me that I do indeed have limitations and that if I push myself to the edges of those limits, I can unearth all sorts of fears and anxieties. But ultimately, even if I do, I have the strength and will to face them, and still exercise good judgement and make good choices.

There are a number of things I might have done differently had I known what I know now. I might have chosen a less challenging trail for my first solo backpacking adventure, one with more people on it for safety. Or I might have picked one that was challenging, but one with which I was already familiar, having hiked it previously. That being said, I wouldn’t trade the experience I had even if I had the choice. It was truly an adventure in all senses of the word. I look forward to having more adventures like this in the future.

Now over to you. Have you ever gone on a solo backpacking trip? If so, what challenges did you face? What insights did you gain? I welcome you to share in the comments as it is always interesting to hear how different and similar everyone’s unique experiences can be.