Wilderness wonders in B.C.
Cathedral park has great hikes and campsites
Our van was loaded with food, wine, cushy air mattresses, and a massive tent nicknamed “the hotel.”
Had we become so pampered in our middle years that we needed to schlep the kitchen sink on our annual ladies hiking trip? Well, maybe a bit. But mostly, we had discovered the secret of Cathedral Provincial Park, in the OkanaganSimilkameen region — the Shangri-la of base camp day-hiking.
Cathedral Lakes Lodge maintains a private 4WD road and transports its guests to the lodge in the park’s core alpine area — 16 kilometres uphill. For a fee, campers can use this service too.
Should you do this? Absolutely! With bodies and gear packed into the rugged vehicle, we waved a bit smugly at a few sweat-drenched hikers knowing we’d be munching on apples while they had many exhausting hours to go.
It’s a mere five-minute walk from the rustic lodge to beautiful Quiniscoe Lake campground.
Trevor, the young park ranger, directed us to a large lakefront site. The poor kid seemed shellshocked by us nosy moms, but recovered with Monika’s cookie offering. The relationship worked well. We were supplied with abundant firewood and he was nourished with treats.
The next morning, we set off on the challenging 13-kilometre Stone City hike. As we discovered with all our Cathedral Park hikes, the attractions en route are every bit as spectacular as the ultimate destination.
Just a 20-minute walk from camp, Trish burst out with “the hills are alive with the sound of music” as we ambled through a meadow carpeted in wildflowers. Minutes later we arrived at the shimmering blue-green water of Glacier Lake. It was very tempting to just hangout at this gorgeous spot. But, the Cathedral Rim beckoned. Our sea-level hearts pumped madly as we negotiated the rock-strewn slopes to the rim at 2,453 metres. On one side of the trail you can see the park’s pristine lakes. On the other side, the enormity of the Coast and Cascade mountain ranges come to life.
The rim scenery is otherworldly, shaped by the forces of ice and wind. At Stone City, huge boulders are randomly deposited across bleak terrain. Some sit so precariously at the rim’s edge you’d think that a slight nudge could send then barrelling over the precipice. Morag was not amused when I tested this.
Surprisingly, she wasn’t daunted by clambering up a rocky outcropping and peering into the Giant Cleft, a massive breach in the rim. This geological wonder formed when a vertical segment of softer basalt eroded.
The descent from the rim is long and steep but the incredible views of Ladyslipper Lake kept us going. We finally stumbled into camp. Trish, the brave soul, plunged into icy Quiniscoe Lake.
The rest of us were happy with a quick foot soak, and a dose of vitamin A (Advil). Monika’s heavenly, garlic-rich pasta created the perfect ending.
The cold morning air and a jolt of java kicked us back into action after a fitful sleep. First a little repair work was needed on Morag’s flapping-soled hiking boots. A big thanks to my hubby who insists one should never leave home without duct tape.
Today’s hike brought us back to the rim, this time to the northern segment via the gentler Diamond trail.
The first few kilometres are blissfully relaxing as we traverse narrow wooden boardwalks across pastoral meadows of wildflowers. I marvel at how the lupine, cinquefoil and Indian paintbrush can grow in such artful perfection.
We felt like old pros following the cairns through chunky boulders on our ascent up Red Mountain. Here, the rim view extends across the rolling hills of the Okanagan.
Atop Quiniscoe Mountain, we were rewarded with a sweeping panorama of four of the five major lakes in the park — Glacier, Quiniscoe, Pyramid and Lake of the Woods.
From our summit perch we chewed on Landjaeger sausage and extolled the virtues of backcountry hiking with only a day pack. We reminisced about a previous trip to Whistler’s Singing Pass — glorious scenery too, but far more arduous with 40 plus pounds of gear on our backs.
That evening, the heat of the rustic dining room inflamed our wind burned faces.
We were happy about our decision to splurge on a couple of dinners at the lodge. The buffet meal was satisfying, if a bit boring. We didn’t care that much. We were warm and we had real bathrooms.
Moods were growly the next morning after a gale-force windstorm threatened to rip the “hotel tent” to shreds. The good news was that the near freezing temperatures seemed to have scared off the mosquitoes.
We revised our plans to do another high elevation hike fearing the wind and the cold would make the rim quite unpleasant. Instead we opted to hike the sheltered eight kilometre Goat Lake Trail.
The rush of Lakeview Creek can be heard for much of the hike but not actually seen until the forest trail opens to a pretty alpine valley. The meandering creek and trout-filled Goat Lake seem to be perfect bear habitat, but lodge staff had assured us that there are virtually no bears in the park.
The overcast sky cast a rugged moodiness over Goat Lake and the craggy peaks of Grimface Mountain and Macabre Tower lent an appealing gloom to the setting. This was an entirely different experience from being on the rim and looking down at the world.
Here I felt small and vulnerable, hemmed-in by the granite behemoths towering above us.
We celebrated our last evening with much merriment.
Taking over the cosy lounge, Monika roped in unsuspecting John — a schoolteacher on a work holiday — and we played Balderdash.
We laughed ourselves silly creating far-fetched definitions for weird words. “Hircismus” was one of them (look it up). Surly after four days of camping we suffered from it.
Though we were tired from the physical exertion and lack of sleep, we felt elated.
The four days of hiking, incredible scenery, camaraderie and laughter had enriched our bodies and our souls.
What better way to end the summer and celebrate my 50th year than with my friends, in the majesty of Cathedral Provincial Park.