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KRIS WHEELER
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Kristina Wheeler
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Kristina Wheeler
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Kristina Wheeler
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KRIS WHEELER
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Kristina Wheeler
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Kristina Wheeler
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KRIS WHEELER
Words and photos by Kristina Wheeler
They say don’t wheel alone... but I do and I live for it..
I remember my first night at Cabin Lake alone on its opening weekend, debating the risks against the returns. Turns out it’s a perfect place to get cell reception when you don’t want it but conflictedly desire it. I decided to escape the mosquitos for a bit by hiding out in the tent, no one else around except the whisky jacks, sitting there nervously texting a friend.
With that single text “go enjoy it”, I received permission to do one of the most amazing things in this world, solo overland. Many of us need that initial validation on our first solo run, simply because we doubt our abilities. Yes, there will always be risks, however those that solo have learned the payback is much greater than the risk.
As anyone knows, Cabin Lake is predator territory, where you hope to find berries, not bear bells in the scat. A while back I made the nerve-wracking hike back from an old crashed plane with a large gash on my knee that wouldn’t stop bleeding, quietly repeating a mantra “just don’t let the scent of my blood attract them”.
That experience culminated a mesmerizing mixture of solitude and adrenalin, which created an addiction to camping alone in remote locations. It is a natural addition to the solo wheeling I do. There is something enchanting about going places in perfect seclusion, having the selfish opportunity to enjoy a spot in the world all to myself. Sitting on a precipice viewing the vast expanse and know you are the only human being experiencing that moment. Where you can hear the long grass rustle in the wind, let your camera chase the cicada, and experience an unmolested mother nature.
There is a secret that few will tell you, it is that until you throw yourself into that fire and risk having issues you will never know what you are capable of. No one ever learned by playing it safe, and not all my trips have gone flawlessly. There have been blown drive shafts, tire issues, WTF is that noise coming from in the Jeep, and OMFG IT WON’T STAY ON THE ROAD OVER 60! But so far, I’ve come back alive from every adventure, with more than a few stories of ‘then I went to Plan B’.
Last Saturday I was able to do a long overdue solo journey to one of my “churches”, the Nahatlatch Fire Lookout. I had made myself a promise to get the new toilet paper roll holder I picked up in the spring installed before snow. Snow was falling, and if I was going to finish my wheeling bucket list - it was time to go. I couldn’t get the Jeep all the way to the top, so I parked and hiked up the last 3,424 steps in the snow to install the cute toilet paper holder in the outhouse.
With each step through the snow, I listened to the birds around me chuckling over the deer tracks that the predators missed, and I was grateful there was no cougar or bear. Yet my heart still beat a little faster with each sound of something rustling in the bush as my mind reflected on the final question we all ask, ‘oh God is “it time”? And is my life insurance is up to date…
Nahatlatch has held many memories for me, first standing on the steps in about 2008 when the original still stood. Driving up through the Boston Bar Car Wash to get there, tentatively stepping on each rickety stair, seeing the beauty of history in the decay. A few years later in 2012, I helped to rebuild it. The guys calling me She Woman when I lifted the windows up to be installed. A few years later we came back to do some maintenance and the jeans covered in the white paint from the railing are still my standard wheeling attire with the 4WDABC hoodie.
Besides my solo trip’s up there, there have been memories with friends, day trips, overnight hangouts and camping there... of course there was the day my friend ended with his eyebrows singed from well... let’s just say all ended well.
I’m challenged with wheeling with others because as great as shared moments are, I feel you can only ever enjoy reflection and find understanding in what is truly around you when you are alone, raw and vulnerable. But there is a balance to be found, as without having others you miss some of the most amazing locations that aren’t safe to do solo.
Yes, doing it on my own may be dangerous, and one day I may get eaten by that grizzly bear, but that is ok. I made my peace with it that night at Cabin Lake back in 2012, when I was truly vulnerable for the first time. But in reality the risk is the same as dying in a car accident, drowning or a plane crash. It’s simply interpreted differently because our nature is to be frightened of the unknown, and of facing fear alone.
But those risks can be mitigated: wear a seat belt (yes wear it wheeling, especially if you take a picture as someone may notice that seat belt sign is lit up and you will get lectured, even though the 4x4 was stopped). Get a SPOT, VHF, carry an industrial first aid kit, learn basic fixes, take emergency food and get your PAL and pick up a shot gun.
The other things that could kill you, like a car accident, are often en route to less than ‘enlightening’ activities. It’s unlikely that going to the grocery store will change your soul. But the risk taken to wheel solo, is worth the lessons in self-sufficiency, and the opportunity for solitude and reflection.
As I return to the wheeling world after a sabbatical, some wonder what the next few years will bring for me. As a hint I’ve got a drone now, so my ‘perspective’ will be changing on how I find beauty in decay. My agenda includes exploring forest fire areas and how their regrowth is shaping our wheeling world; the serenity and colours of the Chilcotin; a few weeks in the Kootenays; and wherever else those four tires, or my two feet, will take me.