A Change of Scenery

Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of heading up to Shawnigan Lake to run the trails with my good friend Aynsley who lives there. Shawnigan Lake and its eponymous village are located about 45 kilometers north of Victoria and the lake is a favorite weekend and cottage spot for Victoria locals. What was once a railroad track around the lake has long since been covered over with gravel and turned into a most excellent pedestrian trail. The trail is mostly flat, very wide, and impeccably maintained and is part of a cross-country network of trails known as the Trans-Canada Trail. Its only apparent downfall is its propensity to attract wildlife, which necessitates the wearing of a "bear bell" or the company of a dog or some other noise-making entity to warn lurking creatures of your approach. (See example below.)

Our two hour run led us to the Kinsol Trestle, which is said to be one of the largest wooden trestles in Canada. Largely dilapidated and currently unpassable, the future of the Kinsol Trestle is a hotly debated topic in these parts. On one hand, the aging structure is quite unstable and, in its current state, presents a safety hazard for hikers who disobey the posted warnings. On the other hand, it is a bit of a relic and stands as a beautiful reminder of BC's heritage. Just think: how tragic would it be if the Egyptians had destroyed every run-down pyramid, if the French had torched every decaying aqueduct, if the Vatican had simply painted over Michaelangelo's ceiling when it started to lose its luster? Shouldn't we leave our grandchildren at least a few monuments to read about in guidebooks and then make the journey to see with their very own eyes?

Having finished our run, we soaked our tired legs in chilly Shawnigan Lake while we shared a ripe mango and tried to avoid getting wet above our belly buttons. After a hot shower, a delicious dinner, and a leisurely chat that kept us both up past our bedtimes, I bit the bullet and started the drive around the lake and back down the mountain to Victoria. As I traversed the long and winding road in the darkness, I was shocked to realize that, when I looked into my rear-view mirror, I saw nothing. No tail lights of a trailing car, no street lamps illuminating my path, just the complete and utter black of a quiet country night. And for the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone. Twenty-four hours later, however, all I feel is sore!