*T-33 is a run on Mt Strachan, which is part of the Cypress Bowl, more familiarly known as Cypress Mountain Resort.
Hey. I’ll tell you a story. It’s boring, so why not fill the empty space with words?
It was subdued day. Fog and mud and stuff. The 20 degree forecast belied the thick cloud cover that had been cast aside by the city but was worn like a cotton wreath by the mountain. The mountain was where we were. Hence the fog and mud. And flowers. A year ago all of this would be invisible. A year ago all of this would be under snow.
But today we were there, and this is what we saw. Let me paint you a picture with word images. First, all we saw was fog. Atoms and atoms of it-we were blocked out by it, the universe was barricaded from us. Wouldn’t let us out. Up we went, rattling the bars of our cage. A bitty bit pent up furious at being animals in this poor weather hiking zoo.
We saw this, and it was nice, but the backdrop was a bit lacking. It lacked everything.
A little bit up higher, after a no-show summit, we came across this. The top of a ski run. A ski run that was open for 2 weeks to be exact.
You had to upload to get to the top of the mountain to ride this lift and ride the snow back down. Unless you ducked under the ropes into the trees and rode the snow snow down. It’s suspected that they added those ropes there for decoration after a hohum snow fall. But you wouldn’t suspect for more than a second because you had to download down.
But there is a better story behind this.
T-33 didn’t just refer to a ski run, it was the name of a crashed plan. It was a jarring surprise compared to the serene greenery and flowers.The surprise was sobering.
The remains of the crashed plane were scattered in their makeshift grave as a memorial to those who had welded their souls into the metal and plastic.
But a jolly good time was to follow for we stumbled upon a geocache.
All manners of toys and Wet Wipes and a logbook stood out in the unassuming flip top box. The logbook dated the geocache to 2012. Most people who found it were people like us, who had stumbled upon it on the hike back down. Not as many people found it because a) I was told many people stupidly walked down the T-33 ski run, a steep run of loose rocks, instead of the established trail and b) You had to clamber onto a rock with the intent to check out the small unimpressive lake out a ways to your left.
This happened to be my namesake lake.
Just about everything said it was a lush foreground where un-noisy white was a perfect backdrop.
I would have been happy to sit there and learn to draw its beauty. I’m slowly giving up mechanical cameras and wandering into the realm of drawing beautiful landscapes instead. It forces the mind to be a part of the process. Not there yet. Not there soon. But there is something extremely beautiful about something passionately and patiently aged, like this 1000-4000 year old forest undisturbed by forest fire.