The weather in Victoria has been pretty spectacular lately, lining up quite nicely with my plan to try to get out birding every day.  Last week, Daniel Donnecke and Mike McGrenere saw Townsend’s Solitaires on Jocelyn Hill, so today seemed like a fine day for a trek.

I set out on my own, carrying more gear than I usually do.  I figured that it might not hurt to carry a bit more weight while hillclimbing in order to strengthen the legs and lungs because ptarmigan are not completely off the table yet. To tackle the big hills, I really need to get into better shape.

I probably wasn’t five minutes along the trail when my calves were protesting much more than I expected.  After all, I did this hike with Rick Schortinghuis and Liam Singh in January, and I have been out walking/hiking a lot more since January 1 than before.   Why was this such a struggle??  Then I remembered that I was carrying a pack.  Duh!

It’s been a long time since I hiked this park on my own, and I think the last time was the time that I got lost.  Well, not really lost, but on the wrong trail which ended up turning a three hour hike into about an eight hour hike.  I definitely didn’t want to do that again.  So I was diligent about checking the trail signs. The thing about trail signs is that they really need a few key points to make them valuable: a “you are here” mark, a scale AND distances (because if you are going up and down hills a lot, 1 km on the map can actually be 3 km on the trail), and ALL the trails near the sign marked.  The first sign I came to had a nice map, but no indication of where I was, and only showed 2 of the 4 trails at that junction.  Fortunately, I knew where I was at that point.

Making my way to the Ridge Trail, I headed for Jocelyn Hill.  I took my time enjoying the singing Dark-eyed Juncos and early blooming spring flowers along the way.  Yes, March 1, Canada, flowers already in bloom!

As you climb higher, the views can be spectacular.  Note Mt. Finlayson, from the opposite side of my earlier post.

It took me two hours to reach the top at what I’d describe as a leisurely pace.  There were a few others enjoying the park today, including trail runners.  And people think birders are crazy!

At the summit, Manzanita was in bloom attracting flies and bees to the flowers.

One thing I have noticed about park signage is that it is almost always inadequate.  When you are at the top of Jocelyn Hill, there are no signs or maps to aid you on your return.  I took the road most travelled, which turned out to be a mistake in more ways than one.

I figured I would be able to get back to my car in 60 to 90 minutes, heading my favourite direction: down.
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Along the trail, fungi were in fine form.

 

 

 

And for the most part, so was the trail.  I came across a few watery areas that made me thing boots might have been a better choice than runners, but no big deal.  However, when I came to the first sign, I realized I had missed the Lower Jocelyn Loop and was now returning via the Timberman Trail, a much longer route.  Not only was it longer, but I came across a couple of really muddy sections that took up the whole trail.  I managed to work around the first one but the second, larger one managed its work on me.

I hadn’t fallen totally into the mud, but slipped off the edge so the side of one pant leg was now muddy and one shoe was wet and muddy.  This would turn out to be my downfall–literally.

Back on solid ground–or at least hard-packed mud–I was on my way again.  But wet mud on slick mud is not a good combination and my feet went out from under me.  Normally, I’m a pretty good dancer when I slip and can often regain my balance, but the added weight and position of my pack doomed me and I landed hard on my butt, bruising my tailbone.  I’ve had this injury before so I know what to expect.  The good news is that standing and even walking aren’t too difficult even with a bruised tailbone.  Sitting and getting up and down won’t be much fun for a few days though.  Even rolling over in bed is likely to be a painful experience for a while. I avoided the temptation of taking indignity selfies of either of these mud incidents.

Now muddy on the back as well as the side of my formerly clean jeans, I continued on the trail. I came to one long steep rock-strewn section that made me hope I was really on the right trail, as I sure didn’t want to have to come back up that way.   Unfortunately, what goes down, surely must go up again, and when I got to the bottom, there was an equally steep and long, but much better surfaced trail to ascend.  And here come the trail runners again!  They were going to run up that rocky trail I had just come down.

Bridges crossed creeks and bracket fungi were doing their best to remove them from the forest.Finally, I reached the junction with the trail that I had intended to travel and I knew how to get back to the car from here, although I was still about half an hour away.  About five minutes from the trail end, my phone beeped with a text from my sister.  Reaching for my glasses that reside on the top of my head, I made a horrible discovery.  They were gone. Oh, I know where they are.

 

I had plans for the afternoon (which I was going to have to attend mud and all), and I estimate it will take me about 2 1/2 hours to  the spot where my glasses have made their new home and back.  Not to mention, I was a little bit sore from my fall. The glasses are a) in the mud; b) on the trail; c) in the bushes and they are a) safe; b) crushed by trail runners or c) invisible.

Today was not the day to go back for them.  Maybe Tuesday. It irks me that I’ve lost a $400 pair of glasses, but I have to admit I’m somewhat amused by the imagery of me slipping on the mud and hitting the ground so hard that my glasses literally flew from the top of my head.   I should make an animated cartoon!

Oh, and in case you were wondering, no Solitaires.