Door Prizes!!!! (a newsletter update)

WARNING: This post contains a bunch of cool stuff you can win. Don’t read this if you don’t want cool things. Like, homemade, awesome, ultra useful things. If you’re triggered by door prizes, meat draws and raffles, do not continue reading.

Last February, I started an email newsletter. The idea came about while driving to a rehearsal with my friend Austin. He mentioned how shitty it was trying to promote anything on social media. Facebook, instagram, and all those other sites will limit how many people see your posts. The only way to reach all your fans, followers and subscribers is to buy one of their less than ideal promo plans. One way to get around something like this Austin said, was to have a newsletter. This immediately spiked my interest. The idea of being able to send stuff directly to those who were interested seemed logical, sensible and kinda fun.

I’ve always enjoyed writing on my blog. It’s a great vessel for me to tell my stories and share the photographs of what I’ve experienced. However, after many years of guiding and outdoor instructing, I also wanted to tell people about all the little tricks that made my life easier and the blog didn’t feel quite like the right platform. 

After humming and hawing for months, I put together a couple winter camping tips, wrote up a recipe for my favourite snack and talked up my newest album. Just like that, the Great Olivier Newsletter was born! The first newsletter was sent to 14 people (my roommates, immediate family and a couple of friends) and I quietly wondered if this project would ever make it to another month. Nine months later, I’m up to a whooping 69 subscribers!!!!!

It’s not much and I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon, but it does feel special to have that many dedicated newsletter readers. No one’s unsubscribed yet, and on average over 90% of people who receive the newsletter will open and read it.

In my last newsletter, I wondered if it would be possible to get up to a hundred subscribers. It’s a big number and a true classic if you ask me. What other three digit numbers feel so big and so high. Back in kindergarten, we’d all take turns going in front of the class to count out loud. Those who made it to one hundred (to us, the biggest number ever) were crowned champion and got a sticker. It was glorious.

Kluane National Park - a picture to keep this post interesting

So here’s where you might come in. If you haven’t read the newsletter, check it out! You can read the current edition as well as all previous newsletters here. If it’s something you think you might like, sign up! You’ll never get more than one email a month and it will never cost you anything.

Ok ok, I know that if I’m going to get you to sign up, I gotta give you a little something in exchange. Let me introduce you to my little friend over here called door prizes. When I hit 100 subscribers, I’m going to enter everyone into a draw for some cool homemade stuff that I’ll ship to your doorstep. Homemade stuff eh? YAH! Homemade awesomeness!!!

Waterproof’ish Pouches

I’ll be making one or two pouches to give away. These things are made out of HyperD 300, a super tear resistant, almost waterproof fabric and are topped with a YKK waterproof zipper.

Depending how much fabric I have left, they’ll have a one to two litre capacity. I just made one to use as a first aid kit and it’s awesome!

Custom Print

Door prize number two is a 12x18” print of your choice. Frame it and throw it up on your wall for some living room artwork, chuck it on the ceiling above your bed for some inspiration, or glue it to a piece of cardboard, cut it up and make yourself a puzzle.

You can look at some of my prints here, but the winner will get to pick from of my catalogue of over 100 000 pictures (spoiler, 80% of them aren’t great).

Bejewelled Tote Bag

The final door prize is a sweet, custom tote bag. These bags look great, feel great and excel at carrying the daily things. They even come bejewelled with a cool label of your choice.

Bejewel it with your initials, your favourite kid’s initials, or whatever else you want (caveat: simple shapes only).

Sign up today, tomorrow, or in the month or two and get a chance to win one of these items for free, shipped right to your doorstep and made by yours truly. Best yet, nothing is branded, so you don’t even have to plug the newsletter if anyone compliments you on your swag. I hope you continue finding the newsletter enjoyable and helpful and let’s all hope we get to a hundred subscribers soon :-).

Transitions Into Fall

Sunbeam on the Augerpoint Traverse, Strathcona Provincial Park

September is one of my favourite months for backpacking anywhere. The temperatures aren’t too cold, the bugs are gone and the landscape is full of transformation and change. September can also be a little bit of a frantic month too. With winter rearing its head, it’s hard not to try to milk September for as many trips and adventures as possible.

I started my fall with a fun little overnight jaunt into the Kusawa Plateau, halfway between Whitehorse and Haines Junction. Kate Weeks and I had just finished guiding a backpacking trip in the Tombstone Mountains and we both were itching to get out and take advantage of a beautiful weather window. It was the perfect way to end a guiding season: a relaxing, client-less trip with no itinerary and a good friend. Kate and I had worked an incredibly challenging West Coast Trail at the beginning of our season and it felt cathartic to round out that experience with something easy and enjoyable.

Jojo Lake at the valley bottom and far in the distance Mt Logan.

The hills were alight in the fiery colours of fall. Blazing oranges, electric yellows and vibrant greens lit up the valleys and hillsides while the ground erupted with its seemingly infinite berry offerings. The cranberries, crow berries, and blueberries carpeted the game trails providing us with tasty snacks for our hungry bellies.

We could not have had better weather during the days. The cool ambient temperature was regulated by a brilliant sun that made for fantastic hiking conditions and glorious visibility. As soon as the sun set, the mercury plummeted and left us scrambling for the warmth of our sleeping bags. When we woke the next morning, all our water had frozen and we were left with a solid reminder that winter was coming.

I got back to Whitehorse, cleaned by gear, repacked and left the following morning for two and half weeks in Victoria. I was going to play a concert with my Dad but figured I’d take advantage of the warm Vancouver Island weather and sneak in another backpacking trip.

Ruth Masters Lake

Teaming up with my friends Austin and Britt, we decided we’d head to Strathcona park to hike the Augerpoint Traverse. I had hiked this trail in 2016 and I had been dying to do this traverse again. It’s a gorgeous hike that takes you from the eastern border, up and over Mt Albert Edward and down to Buttle lake, the heart of the park. The route is continuously engaging with sweeping views, short scrambles on good rock, and easy but exposed sections that keeps it interesting.

It felt special being back in the park. I spent two extremely formative years working at the Strathcona Park Lodge as an instructor and the park was where I cut my teeth climbing, hiking, and canoeing. To feel so comfortable and at ease in this landscape filled me with gratitude for what these mountains and its wildlife had given me.

While we were blessed with beautiful, clear skies, a heavy feeling clung to the air. The ground was parched and crying out for rain. Around Buttle lake, you could taste the smoke from the fires in the adjacent valleys and the surrounding hills hid behind an insidious haze. As someone who grew up here, I felt my heart break seeing the effects of our warming planet on my beloved island. This little rain this far into the season will have serious effects on everything and everyone.

From the top of Mt Albert Edward

I flew home a few days after our trip. Whitehorse was barely clinging to fall and the mountains were getting dusted with snow. The daily highs were still above zero and it looked like we would have one more good weekend. Emma and I decided to try our hand at a little bike packing in the Wheaton Valley. We wanted to climb Mt Skookum and planned to bike the 20km approach on old mining roads before hiking up. It’s an easy bike ride but pretty darn uncomfortable when carrying a big backpack. Other than one of the coldest river crossing I’ve ever done, we cruised up the old mining roads. We had gotten a late start and didn’t get close enough to make Mt Skookum happen, so instead decided to take it easy and pitch camp beside Berney creek. That evening, I got totally freaked out by bears. Ugh, I can’t tell you why, but my mind went crazy and I became convinced that death by bear chomping was imminent. Worst sleep ever... I think I need to stop listening to those bear attack podcasts…

The Wheaton Valley

Mt Reid

We woke up the next morning to an absolutely gorgeous sunrise and decided to hike up Mt McNeil for a few hours. We were rewarded with a mega cruisey bushwack and awesome views. The mountain tops around us were covered in a light dusting of snow and while sunny, the wind nipped at us with a cold bite. Winter was definitely here.

We got back to camp and had the most amazing bike ride back to the car. All downhill and fast! I managed to not fall during the creek crossing for a second time (a personal best) and we were back home for dinner.

It was my last backpacking trip of the year and a perfect season ender.

Growth in the Walbran's Shadow

My phone buzzed at 10:25pm on a Monday night a month ago. New unread text.

“Clear your schedule Wednesday, we’re going to the Walbran” - Will.

My heart sunk and my nerves started to rattle. I didn’t know if I wanted to do this.

After a summer of guiding, I had flown to Victoria for a couple weeks to hang out with my folks, play a show with my Dad and go backpacking with a few friends. The Walbran Valley, a mystical ancient forest of gigantic cedars, was not on my radar but heavy on my mind. There had been time when the Walbran had been an obsession but a lot had changed since. Back then, I was either in the Walbran, on my way there, or exhausted, covered in mud and heading back to Victoria for more supplies.

For four years in my late twenties my life was dominated by this valley. Everything I did was totally devoted to being in the ‘Bran'. I wanted to help build and maintain the trail network, find its hidden big trees, and bring awareness to this incredible ecosystem that was in danger of being logged. It was a time in my life when I had huge chunks of time off between band tours with my trumpet and minimal expenses. I had moved back into my parent’s basement and, maybe because of that, had a burning need to prove something to myself and the world.

I started this trail building adventure with no real experience and no idea what I was doing. For the first few weeks, I was using a rock as a hammer, a little bow saw to cut through blocks, and a little hatchet that would take hours to cut through anything. It was hard and very slow work. One day, on a cold November day about 6-7 days into a 13 day trail building trip, I was working on opening an old overgrown access trail. It hadn’t stopped torrentially raining in days, everything was soaked, and I was sharing a leaky tent with my ex-girlfriend. Back then, I was willing to overlook any tempestuous and virulent interpersonal conflicts if it meant I had someone to help me go trailbuiliding (aka a truck to borrow). As we were clearing six foot tall Salal bushes and not talking to each other (we were… ahem… in an argument), this tall guy sauntered up our cleared path and introduced himself as Will. I didn’t realize it then, but my life had just changed course in a big way.

Will at a work site.

Will gave me the opportunity to take my trailbuilding passion to the next level. He too had large amounts of time off in winter, had access to his parent’s truck, owned multiple chainsaws and most importantly also shared this raging inner fire demanding he prove himself. Over the next four years, Will and I would work tirelessly and relentlessly in the awfully wet and cold months of winter to replace most of the boardwalks, open new trails, and photograph our work and promote the Walbran Valley through my blog and our pseudo-organization the Coastal Trail Collective. At our peak, we would drive out for 4-7 days at a time burning through 50 pound boxes of nails a day building boardwalk. We would drive back to Victoria, grab more nails, tofurkey dogs and coffee before turning around and heading right back. When I was burnt out and exhausted, Will’s boundless energy would carry my complaining butt onto the next trip. I would begrudgingly follow him into the bush and his 5th sense at finding big trees would bring us into the most beautiful and stunning groves of trees with trunks that would exceed 50+ feet in circumference. I would then watch in awe as his incredible woodworking skills would conjure up boardwalk trails out of thin air.

Drying out in the tent.

The Crown Jewel Grove

One time a giant tree fell across the FSR on our way home on a 50+mm rain day. It took 4 hours to cut a gap big enough for my car to drive through, but it ripped the muffler off. Here’s Will trying to fix it.

Will

Those years contained so many stories, emotions and adventures that it’s hard to coherently put it all down on paper. How do you describe the helicopters with their giant claws plucking trees from the ground, the war like sounds of the road blasting crew, the early blockades made of equal parts passion, disorganization, bravery and mould, the rain that would flood everything and lift entire trees into the river, the trill of using a chainsaw to create beautiful boardwalks, big timber and its flawless grain and inebriating smell, the euphoria of completing a new trail in impassable jungle, the rage of seeing new clearcuts and the trees you loved pilled high on the road, the pain and exhaustion of working your body raw, and the sweet victory of opening a bag of chips on the drive out.

Walbran trailbuilding with Will was my life for years and became a pillar of who I am today. It transformed me and steered me towards a career in outdoor education and commercial guiding, my partner Emma, and a life that now focuses on living, working and playing outside.

Life took its turns and I started moving around BC in my early thirties before finally settling up north in the Yukon. The north was a refuge for me from the dark side of BC’s old growth forests. The more time I spent exploring Vancouver Island, the more I found it upsetting that our forests were disappearing from wanton forestry practices. Climb any mountain and you’ll see roads and clearcuts. You simply cannot go anywhere without seeing the effects of logging. At least the Yukon, with its spindly trees and bare alpine lands, hides its environmental carnage. There is no forestry up here and the mines occupy a tiny fraction of the landscape. The damage is just as bad, but at least I can’t see it. I know, it’s hypocritical and an awful way of looking at things but I just couldn’t continue staring at the wounds of logging any longer.

Moving to the north felt like a betrayal to the valley I had sworn to protect. I was in Whitehorse when Will started a movement at Fairy creek. I was not there when the RCMP beat up non-violent forest defenders, I didn’t protest in front of the legislature, and I watched from afar when the logging trucks drove up the road. I felt like an armchair environmentalist who told embellished stories about that time I spent in the woods, clawing for relevance when others were sacrificing everything for the trees. It was a hard pill to swallow thinking that my Walbran chapter had passed.

Since then, whenever I was visiting Vancouver Island the Walbran would feel like a dark shadow. The enduring, life changing impacts the valley had had on me now filled my mind with a mix of pride, shame and confusion. I hadn’t figured out how to reconnect with the rainforest and I wanted to avoid it.

SO ANYWAY! Will texts and says we’re going to the Walbran, in a day, on an epic mission and I kind of freak out. I was not mentally ready for this. Was I even in shape enough to keep up? I see Will as a bit of a superhuman and in my prime always struggled to keep up with him. Now, with some slow guide legs, could I even think of following him into the rainforest? What about the Walbran? Would I feel the same sense of attachment, or just guilt and shame.

I tried pushing down the stress and anxiety brewing in my mind as I reluctantly told Will I was onboard and game for and an adventure. It was going to be a massive day trip with 7 hours of driving and who knows how many hours tromping through the forest and wading down the river in wetsuits. Bring a headlamp he said.

In the end the trip didn’t happen. Our ride to the Walbran bailed and instead Will, his friend Maddy and I went for a leisurely drive to Port Renfrew. We brushed out some new boardwalk in Jurassic Grove, discovered a cool limestone cave far up a logging road, and bushwacked some flagged cut blocks to find some really big Doug Firs.

It was an easy, enjoyable adventure on a beautiful fall day. It felt like the first step towards reconnecting with the forests of Vancouver Island.

I still don’t know where I stand and how I feel, but next time I’ll go figure that out in the Walbran.