About the time I’d begun feeling land locked, Jason offered to take us hiking. He gave three options: 2 to the various beaches and 1 to the highest point on the island. From the top of the mountain, he promised, the view is spectacular — well, on a clear day, that is.
Of course you know what option I choose. Who could turn down the possibility of seeing all the way to Victoria (and all the San Juan Islands in between). A 3+ hour hike sounded like heaven, even knowing full well that Mother Nature might not grace us with the views I’d longed to see. Pulling YaYa away from the rest of the kids, I insisted that he come along too.
We set out on foot right from the house. Greeted immediately with hills, Ms. G struggled to get a clear view of the satellites while our legs quickly shifted into low gear and our hearts into high. The trails, were slim to none. Steeped with inclines, and lush with green ferns, barbed steel, and tall pines. We were either bush-whacking or hopping over (or crawling under) the many downed trees.
Underfoot ranged from hard, uneven shale to a soft bed of pine needles and decomposing tree. It was heaven in my Treks. Careful attention to foot placement was critical. It was a long way back and there would not be any piggyback rides.
Unfortunately, numerous downed trees and over growth meant we were not able to locate the way to the tippy-top. Having covered close to 3,000 feet of elevation gain, we spent a bit of time with our heads in the clouds (literally). In spite of that, we still reaped the rewards of several pretty sweet views. In addition, we detoured to the beach on the way down.
Already, my glutes and gastrocs are reminding me of what an awesome job they did taking me up, up, up and down, down, down. And I am so thankful.