Pathways are an attraction. We hit one the other day while camping at the Wasa Lake Provincial campground in British Columbia. To us it was definitely in the never-seen-before-I-wonder-where-it-goes type of trail. No map to guide us, only the safety of knowing we were in a provincial park and confident that in these places pathways usually travel around a forested perimeter. Besides we’d already seen good keen walkers survive the trail and return unscathed. And we’d watched the youngsters on their bicycles zoom by.
Five minutes on to the path this is what we found. Well, that’s just what I need. A good walk and bit of an upper as well plus a view at the top. The trail wound its way round and up the hill. Lots of climbing in the shelter of the pine trees, lots of quiet thoughts about the new novel I’m writing and what my main characters might think of a place like this. Around every turn there was something new, whether a flower in its final stages of summer bloom, the way pine cones had cascaded into piles around the unidentified and thoroughly dried plants. Perhaps I’d think in terms of a large lily leaf. Honeysuckle berries have turned their yellow and red alongside the dry and dusty pathway. New growth pines are flourishing in the tinder dry clutter. A gentle breeze keeps our temperatures moderate and benches here and there provided a thankful rest at strategic viewpoints of the lake. We meet others doing the up and over three kilometre path. Our ears pick up on Canada’s diversity, Spanish, French, Asian, European languages but the universal smile and “hi, great day” is acknowledged by all. At the top we can look down on the lake and the colour of all who enjoy the hot sunny day. Boats, water skiers, tubers, wake boarders, swimmers young and old playing at the shore. Denny, one of the characters in my novel Finding Dermot, finds beauty and peace in the pathways he’s created in his own private kiwi conservation project in a remote part of New Zealand.