Hiking Washout

I've just arrived back from a long drive up the Bowron lake road. We took the turnoff towards the Vineyards a beautiful alpine area full of sparkling lakes, meadows of colourful wildflowers and views of snow capped peaks in every direction.

It was a typical Ramblers hike with several diehards and a few newcomers. One of the newcomers, an older women a good deal older than any of us, rode in our car. She bragged about other hikes she had done. We talked about future trips and reminisced about past trips. After parking the vehicles we started hiking up an overgrown road toward the trailhead. I was in my usual position at the head of the pack. The weather was warm with a slight breeze so there weren't any bugs.

After walking about a killometre we waited for the stragglers except it took longer than the usual five minutes for them to catch up. After what seemed like an eternity, to impatient me, the last two rounded the corner one of them, the newcomer could barely catch her breath.

So, at this point the hike leader split us into two groups. Because my friends had elected to stay behind in the slow group, with the gasping for breath newcomer, I decided to stay with them. The clouds we had seen in the distance on the drive started moving towards us. We walked at our usual pace but had to keep stopping to let the newcomer catch up. It started to shower. We barely made it to the trail head (4k) before she, the newcomer, wanted to turn back. So we did and it showered some more. We ate lunch, slapped mosquitos, visited and It rained again. By the time we got back to the cars it was pouring, we were soaked and the others were catching up with us. They said visibillty from the ridge was poor, it was windy and they had been cold. I suppose I didn't miss much.

I've resigned myself to thinking of the day as an elaborate way to spend time with friends.