@HoskinPlans: 2019

This tale started so very many years ago, when a young friend popped out for a visit. I have always admired Mils. She is not only a huge outdoor enthusiast and looks like a million bucks, she and her husband are an outstanding example of those who actually live their dream. Who even knew there was such a thing as a professional fly fisherman? Spinning a hobby into a lucrative career is nothing I recall showcased at any career fair I attended but these two have not only done it but are very successful, to boot. The more I learn, the more I understand the hard work and commitment it has taken, not only to get where they are today, but to stay on top.

I do digress. While lounging in my livingroom, I vocalized a thought that hiking sounded like fun. Mils suggested that she and another mutual friend, Em, could make that dream into a reality. Em is an athlete in her own right, starting with rowing in university. Both women, about 15 years my junior, have always maintained a very respectable level of fitness through distance running, biking, hiking, etc. That conversation took place about 8 years ago.

Fast forward to 2018, when I decided I wasn't completely satisfied with where I was in my life. I had just retired and I decided now was my time to do some of those things I've been wanting to do but never quite got around to it. I made a bucket list and that hike was one of many items waiting to be crossed off. This past Spring, the topic came up in conversation with Em, who was immediately on board, and a decision was made that this was the year to make that hike happen. We soon found a weekend and it wasn't long before we had a destination. Mils, now living in Southern Alberta, wanted to hike Crypt Lake.

Having no idea what that might entail, I began googling. The Crypt Lake Loop is about 19 kilometers (12 miles) in length, with over 800 metres (2,600 feet) in elevation gain. It is reputed to have been voted 'Canada's Best Hike' in 1981 and rated one of the world's most thrilling by National Geographic, crediting the four waterfalls, the narrow ledge of rock to be traversed and the 18 metre (60 foot) crawl through a cave which must be accessed via a ladder. Let's not leave out the bears, as the area is home to both black and grizzlies alike.

I can so clearly remember my initial reaction: “What is she thinking? I’m 60 years old! I’ve never hiked in my life! Has she totally lost it???” Fortunately, we were communicating by email. What Mils read was, “Crypt Lake concerns me a bit. While I walk the dogs daily, I’m only going 2 or 3 miles. . . I don’t understand the terminology. What is an open hike? What does difficult look like? I fear it may be a bit too ambitious unless you two are prepared to carry the old lady out. “ Mils had a friend who has done this hike; she would ask about the level of difficulty. No matter what her friend's thoughts might be, I had my two-word (Hell No!) response carved in stone.

I continued to dig. I must have watched twenty videos, all taken by young, nubile bodies that looked nothing like mine. I read detailed reviews, looking specifically for someone of my experience, or lack thereof. There were indeed some folks in their 60s who had undertaken the journey, most of whom were seasoned hikers. There were even a few reviews from first-timers who made statements like, ‘If I can do it, anyone can,” which gave me faint hope. Let’s not forget the ones who didn’t make it, accomplished hikers around my age who turned back because it was simply too much for them. And need I even bother mentioning my old colleague who hikes regularly and his words of encouragement: "I'll read your obituary"? Did I really want to be one of those?

I began to search other trails in the vicinity that might be more to my level of non-existent expertise but there just didn’t seem to be a happy medium; they were all either beyond my capability or easy enough that I wasn’t confident even I would be challenged, let alone my super physically fit, athletic, hiker-biker companions. Slowly but surely, I began to wrap my mind around the concept of actually attempting the Crypt Lake Trail. By the end of May, I came to the conclusion that a worse case scenario was that I couldn’t complete it. As most of it is a straight in hike (rather than looped) if I couldn’t finish it, I could always return to the trail head and wait while my companions carried on sans Brenda. I’m quite comfortable with my own company and I’m not afraid to be in the woods alone. In the event I couldn’t finish this seemed to me to be a reasonable ending. I would indeed have a much wounded pride to contend with but I decided I would rather try and fail than fail to try. This became my mantra.

Once I made the commitment to myself and my companions, I set myself up on a training schedule. My partner, Eric, encouraged me every step of the way. I sent my siblings a video and told them this was my challenge for myself. I admitted to a fear of failure but that I was more afraid of setting non-existent boundaries for myself by not making the attempt. When I asked, ‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?” my brother’s reply was simply, ‘You could die”. He had a point.

I had just over two months to whip myself into shape. I needed gear, education, clothes, and lots and lots of exercise. I found excellent information on the general do’s and don’ts of hiking through the Red Deer Ramblers guidelines. I even contemplated joining but the criteria for membership was that one had to be able to hike at least 10 kilometers in the mountains. I had never hiked anywhere.

Our two large breed dogs were ecstatic when I began walking four, five and even six miles daily, up

every steep hill, down every ravine, on every type of terrain I could find. I even talked a friend into a 12-mile Treaty Six hike from Bowden to Olds (misery loves company). Granted, it was flat but it gave me some confidence that at least I could make the distance. I rarely missed an opportunity, even when travelling, to get out and walk. A trip to town meant I made an hour head start and Eric picked me up on the road.

Em was a little slow on the uptake in regard to what the Crypt Lake Trail held in store. We were literally a couple of weeks out from our hike when I received her email. She had watched a video. She didn't do ladders,caves and cliffs. By this time, I was fully committed, heart and soul; if I was doing it, so was she. She said nothing more.

I received a note from Mils asking if I minded if she invited a neighbour, a paramedic and, perhaps, her husband. I figured a paramedic and a handsome, able bodied outdoorsman would be excellent additions to our little party; more capable bodies to carry me out!

The day for us to make the trek to Southern Alberta was upon us. I had proper clothing and footwear, rain gear, quick-dry clothes which could be layered. That was going to be key as the weather forecast was absolutely gruesome. I well remember Eric seeing me off, kissing me goodbye and wishing me luck. My last words to him were, "I'm afraid." Fear of failure has always been my biggest hurdle. On the drive down Em and I had determined that we were more akin to fair-weather hikers, that we had no desire to find ourselves on a mountain with wind and rain. We were adamant that we would find something else to do. But it wasn’t to be that easy. As much as Mils tried to prepare us for the nasty weather, it was clear that she saw no reason to turn tail and run and, while I’m pretty sure both Em and I were thinking otherwise, neither of us had the hutzpah to bring it up.

We were on the road bright and early the next dreary morning, headed to Waterton Lake, in agreement that we would make the call whether to cancel when we arrived to where we would catch the ferry across the lake to the trail head. Onto the boat we went.

On the ferry, we were given a little bit of advice about wildlife, in particular, bears. Yes, there was a very good chance that we would see one. What to do? If we were one of those individuals that brought a whistle (and I was one of those) don’t use it. In Waterton, a whistle is exactly the sound made by a pica, a small rodent found at the bottom of a bear's food chain. Clearly, a whistle was a poor choice as my lifesaving measure. Fortunately two companions knew what they were about and came armed with horns and spray. I just had to remember to stay in between them.

Stepping off the ferry, my confidence began to waiver. This was real. In my heart of hearts, I hadn't completely sold myself; I wasn't 100% convinced that I could really do this. The paramedic, whom I dubbed 'our little gazelle', took the lead and off we went. Just over 3 kilometres into the hike we hit a series of switchbacks over steep, rocky terrain. I began to struggle. Then I began to panic. My old friend, Fear, was squeezing the oxygen right out of my chest. Everything I had read told me the challenging part of this hike would be faced once we hit an abandoned campground where nothing but an old outhouse remained. If I was struggling now, what would I be doing further on? We needed a new strategy; as the weakest member, I needed to be the one who set the pace. Ever the turtle, one foot in front of the other, lots of rests, and gratitude that it wasn’t a scorching 30C day and we made it to the campground. And while I'm somewhat glad I am not blessed with eyes in the back of my head to witness the looks that likely shot between three sets of eyes, not a single word of complaint was uttered by my companions. If I didn’t know it before, I definitely knew then; these women were not forging on without me; either all of us were going to see that lake or none of us were. Talk about the pressure!

I was soon to discover that what is daunting to one is not necessarily daunting to another. For me, it was the severity of the grade that was the most challenging. For others, it is the psychological aspect of a rock face with a path no more than 0.5 metres (20 inches), at time as little as 0.2 metres (8 inches), in width. Or perhaps it is the 300 metre (1,000 foot) drop. Or the 3-metre (10 foot) ladder to the mouth of the cave which is offset by a long arm's length. For me, this was the glory hole; for Em, it was her nemesis. The Little Gazelle took the lead, always offering an encouraging word or suggestion as to where to place a hand or foot. Ever the faithful photographer, working diligently to capture the essence of monumental moments in perpetuity, at one point along the cliff wall Mils asked Em to turn around for a photo op, to which she received a sharp 'No!'. No one argued.

Each one of us got a little high from that hike but I’m pretty sure I got the biggest one. For me, Crypt Lake became the most beautiful little lake in all of Alberta. Only a few short months ago I didn’t even know there was a Crypt Lake. Without the encouragement and support of my companions, I would never have experienced it. Today, I can hardly wait to return. This time, I would like it to be on a sunny but moderately temperate day. While mist and fog bring with it an ethereal quality, it would be really nice to see those spectacular views that everyone who has gone before me speaks of. I guess that awaits us on another hike.

Yes, we had some memorable moments along the way. On that steep switchback, we came across a mother/daughter duo. Mom was struggling and Daughter was patiently waiting. The perfect excuse to stop and catch my breath, I suggested that perhaps Mom and I team up and send the youngsters on ahead. Of course, that didn't happen but, when Mom and Daughter made the lake, there were four women ready to congratulate them.

And let’s not forget that pair of panties on the trail at the end of the trek across the ledge, up the ladder and through the tunnel. Someone had the bejeezuz scared out of them and the good news is, it wasn’t me! Whoo Hoo!

Coming back down, a couple of young men in front of us did an about face and were headed back in our direction at warp speed. They rounded a corner only to find a bear sitting in the middle of the path feasting on berries. We decided the best defense would be to make a lot of noise. At which point, I broke into song and everyone followed suit. We just missed the first boat back to Waterton which meant we spent the next hour hunkered down under the trees trying to keep dry. That part wasn’t fun but it was still not enough to dampen my spirits. I came off that mountain literally flying high on my own adrenalin!

And now the challenge is to keep moving and maintain that level of fitness I worked so hard to acquire. Admittedly, I’ve slowed down a bit. I’m back to only a few miles a day but it’s still every day, and I’m still doing my yoga a few times a week. I’ll pick it back up when the weather improves and I can get out for a good long hike. Honestly, I have to. We’ve declared this to become an annual event and I have to do everything I can to ensure these women will want to take this old girl out for a new run.