Journey Interrupted	Short Cuts
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By: George Reiswig - 7/2002

Solitary paradise... South Barriere Lake, B.C.

This is a bit absurd. I am typing on a computer in the middle of paradise. There is nothing artificial here save for us.

We are at a place called South Barriere Lake, set back only twenty feet from the shore. The lake is green and as smooth as I've ever seen water, for there is only the faintest whisper of a breeze... not a breeze but a current, just enough to carry the smoke from the campfire away from us.

The only sounds we hear are loons on the lake, which periodically call to one another in their haunting voices, or patter across the surface in courtship. Oh, and fish jumping. Oh, and my 18-month old daughter crying periodically. But seriously, this is a breathtaking place. The loons' calls resemble a high-pitched wolf howl, the cry reverberating off the nearby peaks in a gentle, soothing way. The clouds glowed orange as the sun set, and turned the lake to our east into a flat piece of burnished, beaten copper. I was talking about destinations yesterday, wasn't I? Well, this is why. A look around, a listen, a sniff of this air, and words fail you. Or at least they should. So why am I trying to tell you about it? Come up here and see for yourself.

Or better yet, stay away. We are all, ironically, elitists in this sport after all.

Earlier today, we did the Badger Lake Trail, recommended by a Four Wheeling book by Mark Bostwick. He rated the trail a 5 out of 6. I'm not certain what rating the author would give Pritchett Canyon in Moab, or some of the other truly difficult trails. 8 out of 6? On this trail, I don't believe we ever needed 4-wheel drive. I used it in two spots, mostly to make sure that I didn't dig ruts deeper into the muddy sections. But there was hardly anything difficult on it. Certainly no call for engaging the locking differentials.

Badger Lake Trail wasn't too challenging, but the scenery more than made up for that.

This tree frog was undisturbed by our presence.

Nevertheless, it was a beautiful trail, winding its way across meadows and around lakes. At one point, in a narrow stretch where a fallen tree threatened to poke through our side windows, I was driving past when a perfect green leaf on the end of the tree caught my eye. Less than a foot away from our open window sat not a leaf, but an emerald tree frog of some kind. Seeming relatively unconcerned by the diesel pachyderm that had lumbered so close, it let us take photographs while the diesel roared on.

We relocated the hood to the side of the stakebed for better cooling.

It was a hot day again, so we drove once again without the hood on the Unimog, to try to improve the cooling. It seems to work. But for whatever reason, the old York air conditioning compressor that I had installed for auxiliary compressed air seized while filling the tires up at the end of the trail. There's a huge amount of volume required for these tires! I am hoping to pick up a used York in the next day or so that will bolt onto the same mounts I'd fabricated. This time, I'll keep a closer eye on the oil level in the compressor.

We have decided that one particular photo album would be a real treat to look at, but we haven't enough film or ready cameras to generate the seeming thousands of photos necessary. Our idea is to simply take snapshots of all the pedestrians as we pass by, and at cars who pass us. The gawks and open-mouthed stares would make a hilarious montage. Without the hood, Grog looks all the more odd.