More dirt road adventures

One of our “sort-of-planned” goals in Canada was to hit a few more national parks, and Mount Revelstoke just happened to be next up. We pointed Marcel toward the one and only campground at the base of the mountain. It was, of course, fully booked — but after enough nights on the road, you learn that cancellations are the unsung heroes of camping. Sure enough, one popped up and we snagged it. With that victory in hand, we headed into town for a little exploring.

The highlight? Kerri buying a pair of pants that must’ve been woven from unicorn hair and gold thread. The price tags in that town were on another planet. I’ve made her wear them every day since.

The next morning, in cool mountain air, we started the 26km climb to the top of Mount Revelstoke. Word on the street was that the parking lot fills so fast people sit for hours waiting for a space, so we left early. Marcel huffed up 4,000 feet without so much as a cough — total champ. At the top, one lot was already full and the other three-quarters packed, but we slipped in and hiked the “Meadows in the Sky” trails. Tiny alpine lakes, wildflowers, views that made you stop mid-step — the whole postcard experience.

Our rough plan after Revelstoke was to head south along Highway 23 and find another rec area for the night. But after checking a few, none passed our picky test. So we kept driving until the road simply… ended. Shelter Bay. To cross the Columbia River, you hop a ferry. Problem was, we didn’t know the cost or the schedule — because it wasn’t supposed to be on our agenda for days.

Then, as if on cue, the ferry pulled into dock right in front of us. We ran back to Marcel, jumped in line, and Googled like maniacs. Turns out: runs hourly, costs nothing. Free ferry! Not long after we were on the east side of the river, grinning like bandits.

I had planned to continue south. Kerri, of course, had other ideas. She suggested turning north, then east, then south along Trout Lake — a detour we had literally scratched off the itinerary last week. But Kerri is a dirt-road-whisperer, and when she gets that look, I know resistance is futile. I pointed Marcel north. 20 Minutes later the pavement gave way to dirt, and just like that, we were in for another dirt road adventure.

Halfway to Trout Lake, Kerri spotted her little road. We turned under the trees, bumped along a couple hundred yards, and suddenly everything clicked. This was it. Camp. Home.

The setup was simple: two small rig spots, a couple of slate tables someone had hauled in, and a glassy little lake just steps away. Loons called, otters splashed, and before long, we were swimming — which is rare for us. Evenings meant campfires, stargazing, and, let’s just say, one or two hangovers. At one point we even had to rescue a toad from swan-diving into the fire. Seriously, what is it with toads and fire pits?

The only downside: Starlink was barely clinging to life. Sixty percent connection success doesn’t sound bad until you’re trying to work, and every click is a gamble. As much as it hurt, we knew we’d have to leave our little slice of heaven.

We chose a rainy day to make our escape, bumping south along the now muddy road until we hit Trout Lake proper. At its very southern tip we stumbled onto yet another perfect spot, this one with a clear view of the sky for those whizzing satellites. Marcel backed in with the side doors facing the water, and across the lake a bald eagle perched like it was keeping watch. Loons, otters, and rain on the roof made it all feel like a wilderness lullaby. We would stay multiple nights again. Something we haven’t been doing enough this summer.

A short walk turned into a comedy of errors. I slipped on a shoreline rock and dunked one boot straight into the lake — soggy foot for the rest of the day. I only got the audible eye-roll from Kerri in return, not the usual “I told you so” too. But that same walk netted a jackpot of mushrooms for Kerri. She would’ve walked right past them if I hadn’t pointed them out. Watching her light up as she started gathering them was worth the wet sock. That smile could’ve lit the whole forest.