After an exasperating wet winter on the west coast the sunny warm weather finally arrived in May. My 2 year old son was expressing his preference to be outdoors and together we began to enjoy more walks in our neighborhood. We were eager to kick start summer; I took Dylan camping for 2 nights at Porteau Cove and Squamish Valley. He was naturally enthused by the sense of discovery persistently wanting to help his dad with the campsite, and spending hours exploring the rocky beaches and mountain rivers.Our first day at Porteau Cove was a beautiful site as we camped on the shore of Howe Sound overlooking the peaks of snow high above the tide. Regrettably, we were inundated by the noise pollution created by the construction of the Sea to Sky Highway. I was relieved at 9:00 PM when the dump trucks had finished dropping their noisy loads into the hulls of the barges moored near by. Only a few moments later the tug boats ignited their diesel engines. A procession of machines began to beep and whistle from the lot behind the camp. Throughout the night falling boulders and machinery awakened us. At 4:00 AM I had some semblance of sleep, and then suddenly a locomotive screamed down the tracks with its wheels locked! Dylan calmly clung onto me for comfort and then quickly fell back asleep to my amazement. He was a happy camper first thing in the morning and appeared unaffected by the evening's ordeal. My plan of action was to bug out! I packed up the gear and loaded the car. I asked Dylan if he wanted go home and he snapped, "No, go camping." He wasn't prepared to give up on our expedition and so we moved farther up north into the Squamish Valley.
What was enduring had become solace. North of Squamish we found a privately run campsite near the Cheakamus River. It was clean and exceptionally quiet. There must have been only three campsites claimed and the remaining sat vacant. We found a sunny spot next to a landscaped green space, a water pump, and a path leading down toward the river. After setting up our camp and a brief power nap we then set off to explore the leisurely trails. We wandered a few kilometers and dawdled along the banks. Dylan was beside himself and could have thrown rocks into the river all day.On our way home we stopped at Shannon Falls for another excursion. The scale of the waterfall as it cascade from 335 m above mesmerized Dylan. We were invigorated by its cool mist as it gently fell upon us. The path led us a short distance to the falls and the ashphalted route congested at times. Returning from the falls I was compelled to follow the sign post to the Stawamus Chief. At this crossroad the people continued to file towards the parking lot. We on the otherhand followed the lonesome gravel trail until it became rugged approaching the 700 m granite giant. We had not passed a single soul until we met up with the main trail in the next park. With my son on my back, I bore down and endured the steady incline encouraged by his little voice shouting, "Higher Daddy! Go Daddy!" Sensing the obstacles of exposed knotty roots, impeding large rocks and imperiling slops Dylan cautioned me, "Careful Daddy." Like a Master Yoda clamoring on my shoulders, he elevated me to a new level of endurance. Our camping adventure affirmed that we shared an admiration for our natural surroundings and strengthened our paternal bond.
Video Clip: Porteau Cove
Video Clip: Cheakamus River
