Slayin' Rainbows

June 20, 2025

We had planned this trip for some time, but I had suggested cancelling. I argued that the pressures of buying a third fixer' upper, which meant essentially purchasing Mike a job, while our black house in Vanderhoof still had some minor finishing touches (who needed closet doors and things like railing for the stairs anyways). I was working a 7x7 rotation in Camp funding two mortgages and everything that went with that. Mike justified continuing said planned adventure because we had already committed to it his Dad and Uncle, who graciously adjusted the annual Father's Day trip to accommodate camp life, so right out off camp, off we went, fishing on Eutsuk Lake.

In 2022, right before we left for Thailand, Mike half-hazardly mentioned that his buddy Burt was selling his old fishing boat. She was an oldy, but a goody and had a hard top that you could suntan on. With very strong rum and coke in hand, Burt took me for a tour of the boat appropriately named Giver 'er Time, and I was sold - well, she was sold and we purchased. Mike failed to mention that his truck at the time wasn't actually big enough to pull the ol' 24 foot gal, and so she lived on my sister's front yard, mere meters from Stuart Lake, the following summer, but that's a story for another time. Needless to say, we've had some really good times on her, and I had no idea I would love owning a boat. With the convenient layout of the cabin, she was essentially a camper on the water. Mike installed a diesel generator for the chilly spring adventures, and finally I felt like I owned a tiny home, which has always been a want of mine.

The fishing adventure began well before the destination as we drove about a coffee fueled hour and a half and then took the Francois Lake Ferry, a 15-minuet sail, to the community of South Bank. We drove an additional hour to launch our boat from Andrews Bay into Whitesale Lake where we met up with the full crew in three other boats containing Mike's Aunt, Uncle and Cousin, Mike's Cousin and Wife and Mike's Parent's and two friends were in the third boat. As we first entered the lake, we slowly kickered ourselves through a maze of rocks that protected us from the rougher open waters, and the excitement of our four-night boat adventure hit me better than any drip coffee has; any thoughts of a third home-buyers remorse, HR Mine Life stressors and Mike and my domestic disagreements over renos became a thing of the past as he lowered the leg of our boat into the water and gave Giv'er Time some love as we pleasantly (and surprisingly) watched the front end of our boat come out of the water, getting us on step, 10 jerry cans of additional weight and all.

While sipping beverages during the hour long boat ride, we had to pay particular attention to this portion of trip, as Alcan's Nechako Revisor is known for challenging conditions, including high winds and 'dead heads': floating debris and drowned trees from intentional flooding in the 1950s to create the revisor. Luckly, weather was on our side and it was a relatively calm day so we could find and avoid any concerns or visible blips in the water, while following buoys, keeping us safe from the drowned tress, which looked oddly like red and green wine bottles floating in the water.

One of the stars of the show included a portage needed to get us and our boats to our final destination. I've heard about this portage many times from the annual Father's Day Fishing Trip, but I was speechless upon seeing the portage itself. There is a land barrier between Whitesale Lake and Eutsuk Lake, which is the beginning of Tweedsmuir Provincial Park - which is where the Pine Beetle takeover bagan - Over 550 meters, which had a cabin, an information area and a couple of outhouses built between each water source. We were expected to move our boat onto a wooden structure on wheels that's fully submerged in the lake. The boat leans against the railing of the structure, and the security of gravity and the weight of Mike and I standing on the edge of the boat are expected to make sure the boat is secured to the railing.  A quad pulls us and the boat 550 meters across land and into Eutsuk Lake. It was the jankest set up I've ever seen, and our boat, besides being our priceless survival mechanism deep in the wilderness, was a single digit thousands compared to the King Fisher Boats that accompanied us, and were expected to take the same, saving grace, half-a-K portage. with some minor slip ups (pun literally intended), all four boats made it successfully across. 

The weather in Eutsuk Lake was gorgeous and calm, especially for early spring. It didn't take long before we were reeling in rainbow fish, larger than I've ever seen in person, let alone caught. The lake is well known throughout North America for having large rainbow, 10lbs and larger. From what I recall, my biggest fish during the trip was 8lbs 7oz, but Mike's cousin Becca, was over 9lbs. 

The evenings were spent with four boats on shore, resting on tiny orange pebbles as we shared stories and beverages around a campfire, each family retiring to their own boat in the evenings. There was Pondosy Bay Cabins further down the lake, but something about pit toilets and old firepit rings at our boat access campsite was so much more desirable. There was a short, but steep hiking trail close to where our boats sat ashore, where the view of the water and four boats side-by-side made me, once again, appreciate the group of people in my life who became my family when I became Mike's. 

Those uninterrupted fishing days were wonderful, and probably my favorite adventure on our boat yet. On one of the days out fishing, Mike and I jumped in the glacial fed lake and I very quickly washed the grime off as it was impossible to catch my breath in the icy water or feel my toes for the mere minuets it took to rinse off the suds. With the dopamine of essentially polar bear swimming combined with the buzz of craft beer and spring sunshine, we reeled up our lines and headed of the middle of the lake, to allow us some time for the boat to float in gentle circles as we wordlessly decided to try a third time for tiny human. 

Kirstin 

Happiness is a big fish (and a witness!).

Vancouver, you have my heart

When I think of Vancouver, I think of the only place I ever spent time at: the Vancouver International Airport. I have a regular routine of walking the long terminals from end to end of A, B and C. I avoiding the escalators to get my steps in before boarding whatever long-ass flight I'm waiting for. If open, I'll check out the Lululemon pop up shop (and buy nothing, because Lulu new is too expensive for my blood). Finally, I'll order a latte with a spinach, feta wrap from Starbucks and find a quiet area to do yoga. Any other time I think of Vancouver, I think of unaffordable and insane housing prices and a concrete jungle of skyrises and busy, dirty streets, perhaps with only slightly more greenery than Calgary, which, after living there for 10 years, I don't have much love left for the city. Or any city, really.

The only time I saw Vancouver in a positive light is when I came across a video clip that I sent to my friend Kayla and her sister Kandus on our group chat about an array of hikes, one of which included the Vancouver's infamous Grouse Grind. Below the clip, I messaged them that I want to hike it. In true Kayla fashion - ever the planner - she asked us when the best time to go was, and suddenly flights were booked and a hotel was reserved. Kayla once told me that if we don't commit immediately, everyone will only talk about it and the adventure would never happen, and I agree, talk is cheap. As a fellow planner who regularly checks off life-list trips, I was ecstatic to have someone else to organize, and who rather enjoyed taking her and her partner weekending in Vancouver, so she had lots of recommendations for our own weekend adventure.

I mostly travel solo, so it was a relief to go somewhere that I didn't have to prepare mentally for (traveling isn't always fun and often it can be stressful), since other people were familiar and comfortable with the surroundings, and because I only have a handful of friends in the Vanderhoof area (as a very introverted person, I have a small, close circle of people in my life, other who are close to my heart are often far away), it was extra exciting to go somewhere with two of them. I've also come to realize that for me, traveling means being outdoors, and often hiking. (For Mike, traveling means the ocean and snorkeling). So, since I had my one adventure planned: hiking the Grouse Grind, my cup was full and I was excited to enjoy whatever else someone else planned.

Our hotel was downtown and just off Davie Street, which is the city's primary gay village, so it was rainbow sidewalks and good vibes all 'round. With seeking out restaurants and sites, that stretch became so familiar to me that it became a comfort to find the street after a long day of exploring. The first thing Kayla and I did was walk to and then around Stanley Park. With the old growth trees and beautiful greenery everywhere, it felt impossible that we were still inside a city. Cedar trees are something I always appreciate. Sometimes I wish we lived west of Vanderhoof, perhaps in Terrace, where hiking paths are plentiful and cedars are everywhere in the old growth forest. That tree scent highlighted by sunshine you come across deep in the forest is my favorite smell; if I could bottle that scent, I would. We came across a rose garden, although a bit more sparse than usual given the time of year, we walked around the various types of roses snapping photos and smelling the different colours, trying to determine which gave off the nicest scent.

On one particular venture we found a breakfast place called Portraits that had the best Latte I've ever had in my life. Shamelessly I went there for the next few mornings to get my caffeine fix. They also served a Turkish style breakfast that had a green yoghurt base with poached eggs and spicey chorizo, surrounded in baby tomatoes and drizzled in spicey chili paste. I've actually made it at home a few times, with crusty sourdough bread and it's quite satisfying.

My friend Lisa, who full circled back to the Vancouver area (she's a Surrey girl now, but was raised in Victoria), after living in Prince George and Montreal for multiple years, came downtown to visit me. I've missed her terribly since she's relocated to a place that makes her heart happy. It was a bit of a revelation when, after so much time struggling to fit into places she was too small for, she quit her job, ended her lease a month early and walked away from her personal life and moved back to where she belonged. It was great getting caught up over sushi; Despite regular phone dates, nothing makes up for face-to-face life pondering conversations.

Kayla, Kandus and I also rented bikes to ride the seawall, where never have I enjoyed something so touristy in British Columbia. We were surrounded by other people while zooming down the cement paths and still truly enjoyed the ride that took us through the beauty of Stanley Park, along many bays and gave us a daunting view of the Grouse Grind. The sunny views and breeze made for a great time. 

We got up early the following morning and stopped at Starbucks to grab the initially mentioned breakfast and beverage, enjoying breakfast as the Uber drove us to the beginning of the Grouse Grind. In all honesty, I was pretty nervous; it's a 2.5km Grind with an 800 meter elevation gain. Essentially, the hike is immediately all steps: wooden strips of lumber transition into uneven natural rocks with unsuspecting roots, which feel more common as time goes on. The amount of people surrounding me was a lot, as this is quite naturally a popular trek - some people incorporate it in their work out and do it daily. But, it was surprisingly nice to have company during the struggle as people passed me forever or we leapfrogged each other to the top. at one point I could see the city through a silhouette of trees. It was uniquely beautiful. Kayla Kandus and I hiked our own Grouse Grind, so we met up again at the top, all sweat and smiles. Afterwards we went to a petty high end Italian restaurant Kayla was raving about, and I had my fill of well-deserved fancy pasta, contently eating in my sweat and salt-stained hiking clothes.

I finished the hike in two hours, and the accomplishment in itself was enough to not feel the need to do it again, but I plan to return to Vancouver. Mike and I talked about a weekend escape a couple of times, but during the winter I'd rather stay up North and enjoy the snow, rather than endure the rain. There are so many other hikes I'd like to do in and around Vancouver. The only regret I have about going to Vancouver is that I never swam in the ocean, and easily, I could have. Adventuring with Kayla and Kandus in the city was a great life choice.

Kirstin

Now is the right time for an adventure.