A Break from Winter

Winter’s great – most times – but long, dark days and colder nights take a toll as the months begin to stretch on. Maybe that’s why we usually escape in January or February for a little break and swap ski boots for hiking sandals. Sometimes the destination is Mexico’s Pacific Coast or the Yucatan. Sometimes it’s Costa Rica or Hawaii.

Occasionally, it’s as close as the southern United States.

Sunset at Big Bend National Park, Texas. (Credit: M. Kopp)

Sunset at Big Bend National Park, Texas. (Credit: M. Kopp)

Where do you like to go when you need a break from winter?

Turkey: A Hiking Adventure

The Ride
It all started when we asked Hilal, our pansyion owner, if he could help us arrange a ride to another town for a one-way hike back to Üçağiz. No problem, only 50 Turkish lira (TL). When he ushered us out onto the street, I stared slack-jawed at the little blue sedan. Loading our packs into the trunk and avoiding the rusted holes revealing glimpses of cobblestones below, I crossed my fingers that the packs would be there when we stopped.

The car tilted as the driver plunked into his seat, which leaned back at an angle and rested against my legs. I looked out at the driver’s mirror hanging on by a wire. The rearview was shaking so hard as the engine coughed and spluttered that I couldn’t look at it for long. Fumes wafted through every crack and crevice. The gas gauge read empty. No wait, it wasn’t empty. None of the gauges were working. We chugged slowly up the hill out of town and then sputtered to a halt. Stalled mid-road, our driver calmly turned off the engine, started it again, pumped the gas a few times and we were off. We could walk faster at this point.

Creeping up the hill past the bus parking, it was all looking good – and then we crested the hill. At this point, I had a second to wonder about the brakes before we started flying down around the first corner. Up and down we go, blasting past the big new shiny mosque in Boğazcık before coming to a rolling stop beside the Lycian Way trail – our destination.

The chariot. (Credit: M. Kopp)

The chariot. (Credit: M. Kopp)

The Trail
Standing trailside, we stared at the trailside marker. There were three route options. The sign didn’t point to any of them. It momentarily threw us for a loop, until a local came out and kindly mimed that the sign was angled slight off kilter.

Full of ankle bending rocks and rubble, roadway crossings, navigational challenges, spectacular and seldom-visited ruins, and close up encounters with all kinds of “wild” life – we wandered along the route for almost five hours through olive groves and abandoned homesteads before reaching Aperlae and the unexpected opportunity to avoid the remaining three-hour trek back to Üçağiz in the heat of the day.

"Wild" life along the hike. (Credit: M.Kopp)

“Wild” life along the hike. (Credit: M.Kopp)

The Boat
When the price dropped quickly from 80 to 60 TL, we hopped on board. Or would have, if it was our boat. This one – with sunshade and pillowed seats – belonged to another group of hikers. Our boat was on its way.

“Only 40 minutes,” the harbour master muttered under his breath. Forty minutes? Maybe we’ll walk.

“No, no,” he spoke up quickly, “15 minutes.” Now we’re talking.

Forty-five minutes later our one-armed captain jumped spryly off the worn little vessel, deftly avoiding the empty beer bottle just to his right. Not a chance there’s going to be a single life jacket on this puppy. Good thing the wind – and a strong one at that – was blowing at our back.

All aboard! (Credit: M.Kopp)

All aboard! (Credit: M.Kopp)

When our captain left the tiller to skip forward and share a tale about the blood money used to buy yachts like the massive black one pulling into the harbour, I clung to the centre, oddly cross-shaped pole. Sideways in the waves we went – only to be distracted as flying fish soared past.

I was almost sorry the trip was over as our tiny vessel nosed its way between a row of boats to pull up dockside in Üçağiz and the captain killed the motor – by putting two bare wires together.

Focus on the journey, not the destination.
Joy is found not in finishing an activity, but in doing it.”
– Greg Anderson

 

 

One Writer’s Year

I do spend time in the office, it’s just that this writer’s inspiration comes from the outside. So here’s a look back at my muse in 2014.

January

Hold still Frosty, I need a pic for Instagram! (Credit: A. Kopp)

“Hold still Frosty, I need a pic for Instagram!” (Credit: A. Kopp)

February

Escape (Photo: B. Kopp)

An Amiskwi Escape (Photo: B. Kopp)

March

Cruising in San Diego (Credit: B.Kopp)

Cruising in San Diego (Credit: B. Kopp)

April

Heading out on the San Juan River, Utah (Credit: M. Kopp)

Heading out on the San Juan River, Utah (Credit: M. Kopp)

May

Backpacking Grand Gulch, Utah (Credit: B. Kopp)

Backpacking Grand Gulch, Utah (Credit: B. Kopp)

June

Ha Ling Peak, Canmore (Credit: M. Kopp)

Ha Ling Peak, Canmore (Credit: M. Kopp)

July

Forbidden Plateau, Vancouver Island (Credit: M. Kopp)

Forbidden Plateau, Vancouver Island (Credit: M. Kopp)

August

Getting set to backpack into Mt. Robson, BC (Credit: B. Kopp)

Getting set to backpack into Mt. Robson, BC (Credit: B. Kopp)

September

Egypt Lake, BC (Credit: B. Kopp)

Tryst Lake, AB (Credit: B. Kopp)

October

Hiking along the Lycian Way, Turkey. (Credit: B. Kopp)

Hiking along the Lycian Way, Turkey. (Credit: B. Kopp)

November

Wintery walk up Cougar Creek, Canmore (Credit: M. Kopp)

Wintery walk up Cougar Creek, Canmore (Credit: M. Kopp)

December

Bluebird day at Chester Lake. (Credit: B. Kopp)

Bluebird day at Chester Lake, Kananaskis.  (Credit: B. Kopp)


Hiking Black Rock in the Ghost Wilderness

I hadn’t been up Black Rock in the Ghost for over 10 years. And I probably wouldn’t have been this past weekend if fate – and Twitter – hadn’t intervened.

Let me explain.

As a writer, I’m always trying to keep up on social media – making sure I have a presence, build a brand, ya-da ya-da – you know, all those things a writer needs to do in order to stay current. Building up a following means following others and I’ve been selectively finding like-minded people/groups to follow.

Friends of the Ghost was just such a group. I followed them; they followed me back. And then they sent me a note:

Hike? Black Rock? With the Ghost Watershed Alliance Society? On a day with no looming deadlines? I’m in!

Crossing the Ghost! (Credit: M. Kopp)

Crossing the Ghost! (Credit: M. Kopp)

Oh boy, was I in! Beyond a rough gravel road and steep hill to the river valley, access includes glacial river crossings (don’t forget to pack water shoes). The hike itself is a strenous, 900-metre elevation climb with plenty of scree.

(Credit: M. Kopp)

Up, up… oh yeah… and up! (Credit: M. Kopp)

But the views just keep getting better!

(Credit: M. Kopp)

Nearing the summit. (Credit: M. Kopp)

At the summit, the old fire lookout dating back to 1930s stands as a weathered testament to the will of hikers. It’s a little beaten, a little ragged – but still standing!

(Credit: M. Kopp)

Black Rock Fire Lookout. (Credit: M. Kopp)

Thanks Friends of the Ghost, GWAS and Ghost Hikers for the carpool, conversation and company. Brilliant day!

Late day sun turns Black Rock golden. (Credit: M. Kopp)

Late day sun turns Black Rock golden. (Credit: M. Kopp)

Hiking Kananaskis Country: Mustang Hills

Named for the feral horses that roam the front ranges and foothills along the Elbow River, Mustang Hills is a hidden hiking area with spectacular views. Open, grassy slopes offer a panorama of Quirk Ridge, Forgetmenot Ridge, Banded Peak, Outlaw Peak, Mount Cornwall and Mount Glasgow.

Panoramic views from the Mustang Hills. (Photo: M.Kopp)

Panoramic views from the Mustang Hills. (Photo: M.Kopp)

Starting at the parking lot at Cobble Flats, we followed the old highway as it meandered steadily uphill to a cairned path leading through the forest to a large open grassy meadow. At the top end of the meadow, the path continued up through the trees to another old road and a spot that matched the guidebook description.

Quirk Creek behind the hiking hound. (Photo: M.Kopp)

Quirk Creek behind the hiking hound. (Photo: M.Kopp)

From the tattered strip of flagging tape and fallen down cairn, it was easy uphill on a well-defined trail to West, Centre and East Hills. Calypso orchids bloomed in the duff of a pine forest floor. Early blue violets, Jacob’s Ladder, Rock jasmine, and Wild strawberry were in full glory. No visuals on the mustangs, but tracks and droppings everywhere.

Jacob's Ladder in full bloom. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Jacob’s Ladder in full bloom. (Photo: M. Kopp)

The descent to the Elbow River off East Hill is not well used and it is easy to lose the route. We followed flagging tape, blazes and occasional cairns until they disappeared and then just worked our way down the hill until we hit the trail again near a small creek. From here, the route is once again well defined – even with the flood damage of last year.

For a trail description and map, check out the Kanananskis Trails blog.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail’s McAfee Knob

The Appalachian Trail (AT) might be 2,180 miles long, but the short, approximately 4-mile, 1,740-foot climb up McAfee Knob from the Catawba Mountain parking lot (off Route 311) is one of the most popular sections. And I’m in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains to check it out firsthand.

Virginia's mixed hardwood forest. (Photo: M.Kopp)

Where in the white blazes… (Photo: M.Kopp)

With seven hikers and one small hitchhiker (a bubbly, almost three-year-old catching a lift with dad), it’s a boisterous crowd that heads out along the boulder-strewn, leaf-littered trail. Reaching the information kiosk just up the hill from the highway, we check the register and find the trail monikers of a few of the long-distance hikers: Big Heart, Typhoid Mary, and Giardia. In my head, I automatically start searching for names for my co-hikers: Tall Tree, Mama Bear, Little One, Sweet Southern Tea, Greyhound, Flight School, Chatty, and La Dama. I’ll call myself the Lucky Canuck.

We hit the trail – suspiciously heading downhill – following white blazes and clomping over four wooden walkways before inhaling the pungent scent of wood smoke as we near Johns Spring Shelter. Conversation is loud and continuous, discussing hiking and writing and travel and life. It carries our motley crew over a few more walkways and up the trail past Catawba Mountain Shelter. As luck would have it, we meet a “walking info kiosk” along the way.

A RidgeRunner show us the way! (Photo: M.Kopp)

A RidgeRunner show us the way! (Photo: M.Kopp)

Fletcher is a RidgeRunner, one of 30 such individuals who spend their weekends hiking a section of the AT. Fletcher’s job is to answer questions, spread the word about “Leave No Trace” ethics, and pick up garbage (he has a fishing pole, motorcycle gloves, a travel coffee mug, and a plastic water bottle in his pack today). He also carries a radio in case of trail emergencies. He tells us to look for Tinker Cliffs once we reach the summit and to see if we can find the town of Daleville – where the trail drops off the ridge.

Leaving Fletcher to continue his journey, we eventually cross the fire road, quickly realizing that the trail is now in a hurry to reach McAfee Knob. Conversations dwindle. We stop “to admire the view” a little more often.  And then there’s a sign, nailed to a tree and pointing back down the trail – 3.9 miles to the highway. We’re almost there.

Fortunately, we aren’t expecting solitude at the summit. Cell phones and cameras record summit success as groups jockey for position on the rocky ledge. There is a chorus of  “Can you take our photo?” But the view… even with the crowds… my jaw drops. There’s Tinker Cliffs, and that must be Daleville!

Summit views. (Photo: M.Kopp)

Summit views. (Photo: M.Kopp)

On the way down I realize, as I skip ahead of the group, that I’m a bit of a selfish hiker. I enjoy quiet time, digging deep into the recesses of my mind. As I find my stride, I start thinking about Grandma Gatewood. Her real name was Emma Rowena Gatewood. In 1955, at the age of 67, with 11 children and 24 grandchildren, Grandma Gatewood became the first woman to thru-hike the AT. She wore Keds and carried a laundry sack with a change of clothes, a plastic shower curtain to sleep on, a bit of food, a cup, a raincoat, and a first aid kit. She thru-hiked the AT again two years later and a third time – section, by section – when she was 75. What was she thinking as she walked this piece of the trail?

I found her, for a moment, her sneakers crunching the leaves beside my light hikers as we strolled together in silence. I didn’t ask any questions, I just thanked her for being my muse.  I’ll be back again, this time to hike the whole thing. Maybe I’ll see you there.

When You Go:

Coping with Writing Burnout

Three kid’s books deadlines, three travel writing contracts, one freelance travel article, and my biannual, continuing education travel writing course at Mount Royal University – September was fingers to keyboard and focus, focus, focus. The process tapped resources I didn’t know I had, but it left me feeling a little burnt out.

October’s seen this writer back out on the trail. With only a book to review and a small  writing project lined up, I’ve got time to get outside before the snow flies.

Early October near Helen Lake, AB (photo: B.Kopp)

Early October near Helen Lake, AB (photo: B.Kopp)

Or not!

Regardless of the weather, this writer is grateful for the energy that comes from grounding myself in the outdoors. It’s pure, positive, and powerful. Writing blocks crumble, creative thoughts abound, and words flow easily again.

How do you recharge when writing burnout looms?

Hiking Mount St. Piran

Yes, I skipped out of the office – again –  but the sun was shining and the mountains weren’t just calling, they were screaming at us to come play! We chose Mount St. Piran, one of the easier scrambles out of Lake Louise.

Swiss guides came to the area in 1899. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Swiss guides came to the area in 1899. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Following in the footsteps of the Swiss guides who built this switchbacking trail off Little Beehive, we sauntered up the deceptively easy grade.

Enjoying the view. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Enjoying the view. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Near the summit around 900 metres above Lake Louise, the grade becomes less friendly for a short piece, before topping out with superlative views of Mount Lefroy, Temple, Niblock and Whyte – to name just a few.

Summit cairn. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Summit cairn. (Photo: M. Kopp)

So what writing idea emerged from this workday spent in play? I think I need to research and write a humorous piece with a message about life near the summit from the perspective of ptarmigan, ground squirrels and marmots.

“Drop the cracker, drop the cracker, DROP THE CRACKER!”

“Aww, come on you cheapskate!”

We didn’t – nor do we ever – feed the wildlife, much to their apparent dismay. Habituated wildlife becomes life without wild – and where’s the beauty in that?

Golden-mantled ground squirrel. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Golden-mantled ground squirrel. (Photo: M. Kopp)

 

The Adventurous Side of Door

I danced on Death’s Door – twice!

The first, as we crossed the strait heading from the northern tip of Door Peninsula over to Washington Island; the second time as we came back. My feet danced a little jig on the upper ferry deck in celebration.

Crossing Death's Door near Plum Island on the way to Rock Island. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Crossing Death’s Door near Plum Island on the way to Washington Island. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Door County, Wisconsin, named Porte des Morts for the Door of Death that is the treacherous strait linking Green Bay to the rest of Lake Michigan, isn’t on the radar of most Western Canadians. When I mention traveling to explore the tiny peninsula sticking out into Lake Michigan, friends and family look at me blankly.

“What’s there to do in Wisconsin besides eat cheese?”

Let me show you the adventurous side of the Door!

There are lighthouses to climb; 11 lighthouses in the county, although I only had time to climb the stairs of Cana Island, Eagle Bluff and Pottawatomie.

There are lighthouses to climb. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Cana Island Lighthouse (Photo: M. Kopp)

Countless bays and lakes are perfect for kayaking.

Kayaking out of Garrett Bay on the northern tip of Door Peninsula. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Kayaking out of Garrett Bay on the northern tip of Door Peninsula. (Photo: M. Kopp)

There are trails to hike in any of the county’s five state parks.

Hiking on Rock Island State Park. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Hiking on Rock Island State Park. (Photo: M. Kopp)

There are beaches with rare polished white limestone rocks to explore.

Schoolhouse Beach on Washington Island. (Photo: M. Kopp)

Schoolhouse Beach on Washington Island. (Photo: M. Kopp)

And don’t even get me started on the excitement of a fish boil!

A classic fish boil at Rowley's Bay. (Photo: M. Kopp)

A classic fish boil at Rowley’s Bay. (Photo: M. Kopp)

It’s true, Door County might not yet be on your radar, but when you get there, you’ll wonder why you waited so long to visit.

When You Go:
Details on activities, accommodations, dining and more can be found online through the Door County Visitor Bureau.