Hiking at Lindeman Lake Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park
After a month of unrelenting sun and dry heat, the summer season unofficially drew to a close over Labour Day weekend and led my family to take a trip to Chilliwack for one last hurrah before the beginning of the school year.
Due to the current pandemic, any typical ‘end-of-summer’ celebrations involving large swathes of people (e.g. barbeques and evening parties with family friends, hanging out with multiple social circles, watching the latest flicks in theatres etc.) were naturally out of the question. Yet staying home and perusing the Netflix catalogue after literal months of doing mostly just that, seemed like a vaguely disappointing and anti-climactic way to end the last month before Vancouver’s characteristic four months of cold rain and harsh winds.
And so after a brief will-we-won’t-we breakfast table discussion, our family eventually decided on an activity in which many British Columbians are well-versed: hiking.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yP_aMwa4oE
Before the pandemic, our family too devoted a considerable chunk of time during summer months sporting rubber shoes and athleisure, surrounded by lines of emerald coloured trees, gushing brooks and dirt. We had accumulated a diverse resume of trails over time, from the oft Instagrammed Deep Cove, to the thigh burning 500 Steps, to the milder, more pleasant Byrne Creek Ravine. We went with the tried and true method of building up endurance by starting off with regular walks and easier hikes, then tackling longer, more physically challenging trails. Much like everything else this year, however, we weren’t able to follow our usual routine, having largely scaled back any outside excursions that strayed too far from our neighbourhood since mid-March.
This meant that my family wasn’t as prepared as we normally might have been for what awaited us at Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park, but, as my mom’s friend assured her, it was only an hour and a half roundtrip. Placated by the woman’s words and spurred on by the picturesque waters displayed on her Instagram, my family groggily packed the essentials (re: granola bars, water bottles, trail mix) and left for the lake at around 8:00. One hour and a half, several cows and multiple playlists later, we found ourselves circling a full parking lot.
They say that you should get to the lake before 10:00 a.m. at least, and they’re right. As my dad dropped us off at the main entrance before parking outside, my mom, sister and I inspected the map for a few minutes before realizing that we had a more pressing issue: there was only one washroom, and a steady line was starting to form behind it.
Of course, calling it a washroom might be too generous. Essentially it’s a small toilet crammed inside a tiny outhouse with no sink, and a floor so dirty that my sister emphatically warned me against looking down before I went. An unpleasant scent tinged the air within a five mile radius. There was a sign outside that specifically instructed people to lower their expectations and bring their own cleaning supplies because, quote, facilities may not be maintained regularly.
Thankfully, because of COVID-19, we had multiple bottles of hand sanitizer ready anyway. After this, we left behind a snake of people still waiting to use the facility, and began our trek into the woods.
The first few minutes were deceivingly simple, and we began as we always did, with my sister and I speeding ahead of our parents who occasionally stopped to take pictures and breaks. We walked through the greenery light-hearted, confident even, that this wouldn’t be too tricky, despite the months without practice. Very early on, we passed by an abandoned stroller and remarked upon the creepiness of leaving such an item in the middle of nowhere.
And perhaps we should have taken the stroller as an omen of what was to come, because the hike upward burned. My whole body felt like it was grimacing as I maneuvered my way through some questionable looking rocks. The air was cool, since we had gone early, but I certainly wasn’t. At a certain point even my hair felt sweaty.
Our struggles with this hike mostly stemmed from the fact that the terrain was much more complex than Deep Cove, which has bridges and steps and a generally clear path, or even Joffre Lake, which was lengthier distance wise, but still fairly simple to navigate.
Lindeman Lake was not so simple.
In many areas, especially as the elevation got higher, it felt as though there wasn’t a clear path so much as there were spaces between logs and large rocks where one could zig zag around and hope for the best. My sister and I’s normally lengthy conversations dwindled to panting and curses at the cruel forces that had conspired to leave us grasping at cold rocks and half-wishing we had worn gloves.
Though we usually didn’t take breaks during hikes, we had to stop for a few minutes at one point because my sister uncharacteristically declared that she could “feel something coming up”, which, as many know, is never a good sign (later she would tell me, with dramatic flair, that she was silently convinced she was going to faint for the first time ever).
As we trudged upward, we passed people of all ages, many of whom seemed to be in the same tired boat as us, which, I’m not going to lie, was kind of comforting. After stumbling through the last patches of rocks and shaded paths, we (literally) saw the light at the top, where a clear, turquoise coloured lake was surrounded by two sky high mountains.
Faced with the vivid colours and peaceful atmosphere, both of us let out sighs of relief. Undiluted by filters, the lake really was as pretty as seen on Instagram. The view was certainly worth it, even if my feet ached from rocky missteps and near faceplants on the dirt. Granola bars and water had never tasted so good.
Thankfully, the trip down was much quicker---or at least, it felt that way, without the burning sensation that warms your lungs when you’re working against gravity. The tricky part was, quite literally, not falling off. Again, due to the rocks and steepness of the ground, it took slow and careful maneuvering and using rocks and logs as handlebars to make our way down safely. Even I didn’t escape totally unscathed as my gripless shoes slipped on dirt and almost led me to tumble down to almost certain injury.
Despite all of the challenges, there was a certain post-hike satisfaction that came with not only seeing Lindeman Lake in all its glory, but in finishing the whole thing in the first place. It was the kind of hike that, in my opinion, made you really feel like you pushed your body, even if that push came with soreness the day after.
Note: After experiencing the near two hour round trip hike, I would say that Lindeman is more on the right side of the scale, landing somewhere in between moderate and difficult.
Quick Tips:
Bring water and snacks (seriously, do it).
Bring hand sanitizer and extra tissue. Also consider bringing gloves.
When hiking, try not to think about how long you’ve been there; just keep looking up.
If you’re thinking of bringing kids, carefully consider whether they will be able to safely navigate around many sharp rocks.
Take your time and let others pass if you have to, particularly when the path gets murkier.
Go as early as possible to avoid large crowds (this is essential, especially with COVID-19!) and hiking in hot weather.
Wearing hiking shoes is highly recommended.