The second in a series of jaunts in the key of white. This week, I recount a December 27, 2017 walk along Mosquito Creek in North Vancouver.
I have misgivings about attempting a walk this morning. With a mug of hot coffee in hand, I watch the snow fall just outside the expansive windows of my sister’s North Vancouver home. A curtain of white flakes all but obscures the dense stand of conifers lying not more than 10 metres away. It looks beautiful, to be sure. The opportunity for a good walk. Yet my planned course down the familiar paths skirting Mosquito Creek worries me. Just three days ago, I climbed that very route. It was cold and the path was icy. Today, that fresh snow would cloak a slick, glassy surface. Slipping and falling holds little appeal.
But the scene outside is too enchanting to ignore. I will take my chances. (more…)
Here begins a series of jaunts in the key of white. This week, I follow the Capilano River in North Vancouver.
It’s December 26 and the terrain is unexpectedly wintery, the weather too cool for a prairie boy looking for a reprieve from the chill back home. (more…)
The Grouse Grind lies outside any conventional notion of walking. This is no promenade. Want to commune with nature? Find another trail.
This is sheer exercise, a cocktail of pure adrenaline spiked with a shot of danger.
The Grind rises from the residential edge of North Vancouver and steadily, steeply rises up the slope of Grouse Mountain to its end point at the ski lodge near the crest of the mountain. In distance, it is a mere 2.9 kilometres. But it climbs 853 metres over 2,830 steps at an average grade of 30º. It was designed to be a physical challenge. Mission accomplished. (more…)
For Gail and me, Remembrance Day in Winnipeg always includes a walk down Valour Road for a service at a small park on Sargent Avenue.
This year, I am in North Vancouver, on my way to their Remembrance Day service. It’s a one-hour walk to Victoria Park, an eastward trek that leapfrogs suburban neighbourhoods and the Trans-Canada Highway and follows the banks of south-flowing streams. (more…)
In this snowless domestic landscape, Christmas lights glow, framing the distant mass of Grouse Mountain. Green, treed slopes rise above the roofs until capped by a dusting of snow. It’s one of those rare straight lines drawn by nature, separating a ribbon of temperate green from a broad band of white above. As I start today’s walk, looking up at the mountain, I can imagine that line as roughly demarcating today’s walk on the Baden-Powell trail as it traverses the mountain. (more…)
The urban overlay of North Vancouver, the city, can come across as an amorphous mass without any sense of centre. Industry and commerce line the harbour front in a continuous stream of innocuous buildings. Inland is the repetitive grid of streets, for the most part small-scale residential houses with the occasional high rise apartment punching through the low slung skyline.
In the middle of that domestic streetscape, there is something interesting. A little jewel of a town plan first dreamt up in 1907. It’s called the Green Necklace, a fitting moniker for a string of parks that wraps itself around the neck of a modest city centre. (more…)
If I were to choose a time to walk in the woods, this would not be it. But here I am, walking along Mosquito Creek, engulfed in the deep, dark shadows of a long winter night, straining to see two steps ahead through a hard rain.