First the forest dried out, slowly releasing a winter鈥檚 worth of moisture in the form of transpirated clouds. As summer went into full swing, we felt week after week of hot dry weather baking our fjord.
The fire dangers skyrocketed as the forest slowly crackled and simmered, out of moisture now and shimmering in a dusty haze. Campers everywhere stopped half asking if it was time for the campfire to be lit, instead silently reminiscing about the smell of meat over a bed of glowing coals and cursing the forest fire smoke that hovered in massive billowy sheets over our entire end of the province.聽
The forest succumbed to the heat, the baking ,and everything under the canopy became a velvet dust castle. Everything held in place by a fragile balance, trails collapsing into clouds of brown dry fog as the rocks rolled away downhill. Dry needle clouds rain down as the conifers dry out and lose much of their outer layer of needles, the dry brittle points gathering in piles on trails, on ledges, over cliffs, in hollows and all over climbs whether it be boulders, crags or walls.聽
The time of the ripe, sweet, luscious berries is well past, with all the hidden treasures of the forest dried up, desiccated and fallen away. The loamy wet, sopping forest we all know and love is changed, mummified, devoid of moisture. Now is the rare and spooky time鈥� of the wasps.聽
(As of press deadline, a three-hectare wildfire is burning 13 kilometres from Squamish. BC Wildfire Service says Air tankers, a 20-person ground crew and heavy machinery are working to put out the fire.)
I may sound like a paranoid pentaphobe but many a 麻豆社国产resident who roams the summer backcountry knows what I鈥檓 talking about. All that wet forest floor dries out and leaves holes, cracks and crevices. Those enterprising winged vermin scavengers take that opportunity to make new homes in all this newly available real estate. Yellow Jackets, hornets, mud wasps, paper wasps 鈥� the list goes on of flying threats who populate the grounds under boulders, beneath tree roots, around rocks and in deadfall throughout the now dry West Coast woods.聽
This is usually how it unfolds, for me at least. I鈥檓 an early riser and love to get out into my climbing day as early as my partners will allow. We are hiking up in the cool of the morning to a cliff where we aim to climb. I鈥檓 eternally scanning the ground for holes and wasps entering or exiting near where we鈥檙e walking.聽
It鈥檚 already warm so upon reaching the crag you can see that there are more wasps than usual flying around doing whatever it is that they do among the moss and vegetation. Throughout the climbing, you barely notice them unless hanging on the rope or eating near your pack. They buzz around, searching, always searching. Sniffing at your rope, the shoes, the moss and then your pack. As the temperature rises they increase in movement and enthusiasm. You don鈥檛 notice this. You don鈥檛 notice where they鈥檙e all coming from or what they鈥檙e after.聽
Day done, you pack up and begin the hike back to the van. My days are rarely long ones so that might put us at 1:30 p.m. or so. Three metres into the hike that I鈥檝e done at least five times, but not stayed until this late in the day 鈥� at a time when the day鈥檚 heat is starting to ramp up 鈥� I step down a rock step all the while chatting with my pal.聽
Pain in my calf? What the鈥�? The cloud erupts from the base of the rock step I had just descended. Wasps are all over my legs before I can even think 鈥� 鈥淎hhh wasp!鈥� We both start to run dangerously fast downhill with packs on our backs. Not usually a good idea but now it鈥檚 an instinct. As we run, we swat stinging wasps off our legs, under our packs, in our shirt sleeves 鈥揺verywhere. They pursue us farther than we think possible and we cover the steep hike back to the car in a quarter of the time.聽
鈥淚鈥檓 going to be a swollen mess from this, dude.鈥� I say. And then, 鈥淵ou free the day after tomorrow to head back up there? I think I can link through the crux if I鈥檓 fresh. Maybe the wasps will grant us safe 辫补蝉蝉补驳别?鈥�
