The Agony

Agony and Ecstasy Part 1

Heartbreak

Michael struggled down the road dragging an eight-pound sledgehammer. At sixteen months the handle was taller than he was. His older sister Annemarie and brother John toted the picks and shovels. It was 1976 and we were working on the road into Nickel Plate Lake in preparation for our holiday. We had plans to take the tent trailer in for a week of relaxation and fishing.

I fondly remembered the Lake and the several potholes that held some good fish during the time the Nickel Plate Mining camp was in operation. Lost and Hidden Lakes at that time held fish up to 16 and 17 inches. While I had no actual fishing experience at the potholes between the new Apex Ski Hill on Beaconsfield Mountain (This always seems strange to those of us raised at Nickel Plate), I remembered well seeing the fish rising as we passed on some of our trips as youngsters. Now I was anxious to introduce the kids to my old stomping grounds.

The three August days were hot and we rationed out water as we toiled away. The Provincial Government had completely forgotten this park and had turned down my offer to develop it several years earlier. As well built as those old roads were, twenty years of neglect had left some portions very rough indeed. Thirty more years have passed and the roads continue to slowly deteriorate.

Sweat seemed to attract mosquitoes and deer flies, which delighted in making themselves a nuisance. Savouring the tiny huckleberries was something we looked forward to daily in spite of these pests.
We pried some large protruding rocks from the road and filled the resulting holes. Other rocks were too large to move and these I attacked with the sledgehammer with varying degrees of success. With luck I would find a fault line and the top would come off cleanly. Often, though, the hard granite would just slowly chip away and we would have to resort to adding earth to the tracks on either side of the stubborn boulder.
Upon reaching the upper campsite we met an older gentleman in his seventies dragging his boat up the steep hill from the lake. We decided we would settle for this site and do some work on the really rough section to the lower campground while we were camped here. This part was extremely rough as it is now and some one had purposely rolled large rocks onto the road. Removing these was easy, but the deep holes that required filling would take considerable time.

The next morning we hitched up the tent trailer and with eager anticipation set off for the lake. All went well until we tried to get up the hill form the circle of some of the original cabins at Apex. (The current road was not then built) The slope did not seem very steep, but the loose rock would not allow enough traction to make it up in spite of several attempts.

Dejected we headed back down to Penticton. The children sobbed in the back seat and Tricia and I were also in tears. Heavy hearted, we decided to try for Conkle Lake, a new lake we had heard about. The next morning we were off again, not knowing what to expect, but hoping for the best.

Perhaps this experience was the initial catalyst in my desire for reasonable access to wilderness areas and mountain lakes. Today, as public land is fast disappearing and private lands that once allowed easy access are closed to the general public, it becomes increasingly important that we maintain old roads and trails for future generations to enjoy.