Mowat Bay through to Inland Lake: Tony's Trail and Lost Lake.

 

Like the Three Bears: small, medium and large and the hiker will enjoy the shores of each. We can rename them Yogi, Smokey and Pooh just for whimsey.

"Tony's Trail" is one of the very first segments of the SCT and it follows a trail originally put down by one of the local hiking pioneers.  For several years the original trail head was obliterated by a fire and it had to be moved up to a more inaccessible site on a side street in Cranberry.  When I originally hiked this trail, I read the old edition of the guide book and thought the alternative trail head was my only option.  I should have explored a bit more or at least asked some questions.  But, hey, I'm a man, so why ask directions when you can get lost all on your own without anyone else's help?

Find the proper trail head at the south end of Mowat Bay, pretty much directly below the public washrooms.   The trail passes along the edge of the lake (it can be a bit swampy depending on the water levels of the lake) and then ascends the hillside in a series of switch-backs following some old logging cuts.  I did this little access trail in the wintertime, so it was not terribly attractive, but in the bloom of spring and summer, it's likely quite pretty. 

Not to far along this path, the SCT narrows down to a real path and, being very well established, it is extremely nice hiking: gentle grades, soft loamy surface with few rocks or roots, and a thick canopy above for shade.  In the early summer the deciduous trees tower above the trail and sometimes, for few moments, the hiker can forget that a city is just a long stone's throw away.

The log dump across Mowat Bay

Powell River's Lido at Mowat Bay from the beginning of Tony's Trail

A woodland trail once you leave the barren logging trails.

A towering deciduous canopy

   

Across the lake: The Shingle Mill.

Looking back to Mowat Bay from just short of Tony's Point.

At Tony's Point.  It's a pretty nice camping area and a logical place to stop for the night if you plan on overnighting at Confederation Lake.  Remember that Haywire Bay is not a free camping site, even for the intrepid SCT hiker.

looking back to your last cold beer: The Shingle Mill is hidden in the shadows to the right of the biridge.

Another season, another time of day.  

And looking East, up Powell Lake.

From Tony's Point, the trail continues to skirt the shores of Powell Lake, periodically giving the hiker some glimpses up the lake, toward Goat Island and, to the east, the bend around which the Fiddlehead Hut is hidden.

Finally, the hiker rounds a corner and finds a new metal bridge crossing a small creek and  they have arrived at Haywire Bay campground.  Stop on the bridge for a moment to appreciate the energetic waterfall coursing down a bare stone face just upstream.

 The first building you see will be the wilderness interpretive center that caters to the local school district, educating youth in various different subjects with the emphasis on nature (and here I thought that high-school co-ed forest retreats were about decidedly more tactile biological adventures).

THE Haywire Bay.  Nice swimming hole, no alligators, crocodiles or poisonous snakes.  In fact, no fun at all.  Where's the fun in safety?

Along the edge of Haywire Bay, enjoy the lengthy boardwalk; just be aware the darn thing is slippery like grease when wet. Hence the metal traction grate.  If they had put a little slant on that sucker, the hiker could probably just ride their pack like a sled on rainy days.

Nothing of importance here; it's just pretty.

What is a nature blog without wildlife.  This is Jerry. He was an alligator once, but then the seventies came,  he partied a bit too hard and woke up one day self-identifying as a salamander.

Haywire Bay is pretty much a suburb of Powell River throughout the summer. I always wonder about the practice of getting away from the grit and grime of the city by staking out your little piece of a crowded camp-ground, but to each his own.  For myself, if I wanted to listen to my neighbors children scream all day, I could chase them with my lawn mower laughing like an evil mastermind.

Following the SCT orange tags, the hiker will eventually trip out onto the main driveway for the campground. While it's a bit of a maze in there, even I found the trail-head up to Inland Lake quite easily.  Just walk along the road, across the bridge, past the caretakers house and down the hill just a bit.  The trail head departs the camp-ground, angling northeast. In no time the hiker will leave the camping crowds and smoky odor of smoldering wood, barely inhaled reefer and burnt hot-dogs.

After a brief saunter through a mature forest with a few old growth grandfathers left standing, the trail passes through a blow-down area where the wind surpassed the root strength of a couple of large trees and started a domino effect within the grove.  The pattern reminds me of the old kid's game of "pick-up sticks" that I played when I was still my older brothers' favorite punching bag. 

The blow-down mayhem ends at an artificial creek (aka: a trench) crossed by a metal bridge. From here the trail climbs relatively steeply, almost immediately being engulfed by a mature stand of conifers.  The mess of civilization is happily left behind.

Watch for an upcoming trail branch announcing "Haywire Bluffs".  The view is really quite spectacular, but  frustrating since one can only really look southward along your back trail. I have hunted for a trail that will take me to a Northern Vista up there, but I have not got lucky yet.  This year the loggers were busy north of that area, so maybe now there is a view. Something good has to come of displacing an entire natural habitat.  I'm sure the bears, the martins and the many endangered birds would agree that humans getting a good view of the landscape is worth the destruction.

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Northeast

The view from the bluffs makes the side trip worth visiting for the shutterbug, but for the dedicated hiker intent on Confederation Lake by dusk, perhaps leaving the Bluffs for another day is a good idea.  Old Growth Forest is in your future.

She is a slight woman, but that is one big tree.

The Gnarly Green Giant.

The first time I hiked up this trail I was surrounded by thick forest and the only light available filtered down from the canopy above. A year later this is what greeted me as I climbed up from the Bay.

Remember that we all only get this moment, this opportunity, this single life.  The next time you walk down any path it will not be the same. Ever.  Savor the now and let tomorrow take care of itself.

Lost Lake in summer

  The SCT proper follows the shore of Lost Lake closely.  Take the time to note the thick green carpet of weeds along the shore: that is a floating shoreline. Over the years the fresh water plants have grown into a thick matt of interwoven roots, stems and leaves, creating a semi-solid microhabitat for many insects and, of course, the birds and other critters that hunt them.

Same view in Winter.

                                                                                                                                                                    Here I should talk about one of our less attractive features found on our hiking trails:   the mud wasps.  The little buggers build their nests in the soil and they seem to like the soil found right on the path.  When a hiker unintentionally steps on their well hidden burrows, the wasps get understandably angry.  While the sting of the little wasps is by no means dangerous, it will hurt like a red hot poker for several hours after.  Maybe other people have some trick for overcoming the pain, but my solution is profuse swearing while desperately trying to find the wound, usually on your legs, since they were the actually destroyers of Wasp-home. 

I just had to put this in here: how often does one catch a rainbow?

For the fitness hiker looking to top out their steps for the day on their wrist-born fitness bully, there is a secondary trail that skirts around the southern edge of Lost Lake. Look for the trail-head at the Eastern end of the Lake, just as the SCT starts to climb into the low pass above Inland Lake. It heads Southeast and downhill.  This trail is a wonderful mix of soft, sometimes swampy shoreline paths and long photogenic board-walks.  It's a very nice trail and really worth your while to enjoy it: just cut down the trail and do an extra lap.  Maybe enjoy a big piece of cheesecake smothered in chocolate syrup to justify the diversion.

Sometimes a person can see Monet everywhere.  The shallow west end of Lost Lake.

The new bridge at the west end of the boardwalk trail. Not too far from here it joins with the SCT.

If you decide to forgo the cheesecake walk of shame and push on through to Inland Lake, the trail will climb from the east end of Lost Lake into a shallow pass leading down to Inland Lake.  The forest is a maturing second growth stand. There is a little huff and puff climbing the pass (very little) but the majority of the hike into Inland Lake from here is a downhill grade on soft, easy on the knees soil.  There is only one place here that civilization intrudes: the hiker will have to cross over an old logging road and find the trail on the other side of the clearing.  It's not a challenge.  Once across that clearing a person will catch glimpses of the lake below and usually hear the sounds of happy campers enjoying the campground on the far side of the lake.

Near the end...or the beginning since every end is just a new beginning.

The hiker will descend down a short, abrupt slope using a few roughly made steps and step out onto the placid shores of Inland Lake.  Here a person has to make a choice: head North along the flat and winding (and wheel-chair accessible for the most part) trail and miss the busy campground altogether or head South and follow the trail around to access the campground.  It matters not since, like Mr. Frost suggests in his poem "A Road Not Taken", the end point is still the same: the bottom of the trail to Confederation Lake, the first of the real challenging climbs the hiker will face on the SCT.

Inland Lake should be considered an important way-point on the SCT.  Hikers will often park a vehicle here and start a "South of the City" SCT hike.  Inland Lake is also a possible point for support access: a supported hiker could travel very light from the Shingle Mill through to Inland Lake and then have a local contact bring a fully stocked pack to the Inland camp ground to supply the next few arduous days of hiking: the double eagle climb of Confederation Lake followed by the big kahuna: the western ascent of Tin Hat.

He froze for a few moments, unsure of the threat of my camera. My partner's screaming probably was the reason he raced away. I know my ears were ringiing.

In all truth: this little guy was practically frozen: it was early spring and his only salvation was the warm sun beating down on his exposed spot.  I quickly snapped this shot as I walked by, hoping not to disturb his momentary respite from the cold.

There are no shortage of harmless garter snakes along the SCT. My partner has an unnatural fear of snakes while I revel in their beauty.  I commented on the great number of snakes that love my back yard to a South African friend and he saw fit to immediately add me to a Facebook group "Snakes of South Africa".  That FB page is one strange place: immense amounts of exotic information about the many, many lethal snakes South Africa hosts and a few "real time" dramas as the herpetologists that host the site desperately try to get help to some hapless beggar who has been bitten by a Black Mamba or a Cape Cobra somewhere far back in the bush.

The fear of snakes makes me think of the famous William Blake poem "The Tyger":

Tyger, Tyger burning bright, in the forests of the night, 

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

///

When the stars threw down their spears

And watered heaven with their tears

Did He smile his work to see

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

To me, the poem is about the relative value of all animals and living matter: is one creature intrinsically more valuable than another? Is the snake somehow "less" than the tiger and are both of them "less" than humans?  

Maybe it's a bit deep to contemplate here, but when a person is hiking along the SCT and coming upon vast clear-cuts,  I think it behooves all of us to consider what that clear cut means to the animals that once lived in that "Hundred Acre Wood".  They lost their homes and became refugees so we can have our wood frame homes and toilette paper.  Maybe you just flushed the front door of Mr. Badger into the sewers on your last visit to the lew.

As the clouds gather over Comox, one last ray of Sunlight illuminates the Salish Sea.  Photographers call that "God light". I call it a break in the clouds.

Gair I gall, ffon I'r anghall: A word to the wise, a stick to the unwise.  This can be taken several ways; I think it means that advice can be good or bad depending on how you take it.  Or it means that stupid people need a good whacking.