The initial lunge over the mammoth-like boulder had distorted my balance, like an amateur tight rope walker. The sturdy wooden stairsteps provided a firm platform for me to cement my footing however, each subsequent step felt meters away from the one preceding it. Each overarching lunge induced flashbacks of my grueling leg workout just days prior. The thought of possibly having to tow my dilapidated body out of bed the next morning began to intimidate me. As I tried to steer clear from these thoughts, I sternly reminded myself, do not let this be your motivation.

“CAUTION: This trail is NOT a walk in the park!” These were the words plastered, in bolded letters, at the very top of the information board, situated at the entrance of a forest embroiled, narrowly composed tunnel like, gravel trail. On the top left-hand corner was a “BC Parks” logo. How amusing, I thought as I broke out a fragmented smirk. As we proceeded through the vastly abandoned campground towards the trailhead, another caution sign, with what appeared to be a silhouette of an awfully rotund and bulky canine, had clutched onto my attention. The words beneath the ominous figure read, “BEAR IN AREA.”

Sunday August 9th, 2015. Approximately 10:15pm. The palpitating sounds of ire raindrops plummeting the grim like surface mixed in with the rambunctious echo of swirling thunder clouds and the menacing melody promulgated by scathing wind currents walloping at the mercy of tyrannical climatic overlords, gave me the impression that the man upstairs was not too happy.