Having joined the Pacific Ski Club in October of 1979, I have been ‘camping‘ ever since, if that is what you could call it in the early days as we had a NO SLEEPING policy during the 37 years the Okanagan Olympics ran its course. This year, we headed to the Wild Rose Campground, a quaint site nestled in the mountains and located just west of Hope on the Hope-Flood Road.
In the 1980’s we were at Twin Lakes where Paul Leary, Gordon and I built the 1st permanent stage after Marcus Brenzinger’s semi had been used the very 1st year with plywood and picnic tables assembled as the stage. We had more than a great decade there with ski clubs like the Bum Biters, Ski Rack, Petroleum, OCSC, Victoria, the Fraser Valley Club, the Pacific Ski Club, the Bone Breakers, C-Fun radio station DJs (one year only), and the Inside Edge. Somewhere along the line, the owner was convinced to develop and build homes on that land. He tore out the campsites only to find out out the land area right on the lake was too small to accommodate the sewer and water drainage laws of the Okanagan. No homes were ever built; it has been empty ever since.
From there we moved to Suswap Lake and Pierre’s Point (yes the site of the famous Canadian PM’s finger shown to the people on the blockade of the train tracks which run through the native’s historic territory. It is where the senior Trudeau coined the phrase “Fuddle Duddle” as unlike his son, he was able to THINK WHILE ON HIS FEET). That was a lovely location until the executive of the people who ran the summer event, the Inside Edge, had a ‘falling out’ with the native band leader. I put that mildly as nothing the PSC and our executive could say excused a rather nasty incident.
We found new accommodation and took our stage (the second one which was built by Jack Hanna of the PSC) and were at Cedar Grove in Naramara for about a decade. They had an indoor swimming pool and hot tub. That ended when they sold the business.
For three years we were at the Blue Lake Resort about 15 km North of Boston Bar. The lake was warm and the hiking to the top of the local mountain was a nice 30 to 40 minute trek. The I.E, the Bum Biters, Victoria and the Pacific Ski Club were still active with summer games, drinking, singing, parting, and campfires, but the numbers were down. As the German owners began hiking the prices, it became too much and we looked elsewhere.
From there we found an incredible place just 13 km South of Boston Bar. At first called the Anderson Creek Campground, after COVID the Natives renamed it Tuckkwiowhum Campground but left the management the same. We get the entire central section, the premium sites with full hook ups and pull-through parking. A level grassy area with lots of room for tents is available all to ourselves. The grounds are impeccable and there is great swimming in Anderson Creek or the Fraser if you stay in the bay (Hell’s Gate is just downriver). Three clubs still attended.
This year, with the forest fires in the Fraser Canyon, we looked at a location a bit closer to home and found the Wild Rose Campsite just West of Hope. As it was, we were just far enough west of Hope that the smoke did not become an issue.
Arriving on the 28th or August, we were greeted to a hot, sunny day. This private campground offed:
Amenities:
- Free Hot Showers
- Flush toilets (we had those at E.C. Manning Park this year!!!
- A Games room
- Community fire pit
- Free Wi-Fi for those who NEED to be connected
Walter had his birthday the day we arrived. As it was Cocktail Hour, we opened a brand new bottle of 100% Jamaican rum. As most of you already know, I do not drink alcohol, but as it was Walter’s birthday, I had one rum shooter and one or two glasses of rum and coke. Walter, with Iain’s encouragement, thought one wee shooter was likely not enough. By the time they finished, only 1/4 of the bottle was left for the next afternoon.
Sometime around 8pm that evening, Walter lost his legs and decided it was time for bed. Wobbling toward my RV, he opened the screen door but the 7″ step was a bit too high. Well in advance, Irene, our soothsayer had said, “He’s not going to make it. He is going to fall.” True to this prediction, Walter let go of the door handle, made a twirling, 260 degree dance move of which even Fred Astaire would be proud, and placed his back to the RV, gently sliding down, part way to the ground. As two Level III First Aid Attendants were on hand, that is how far he made it before help arrived. His shoes never touched to floor until they landed, 5 or 6 campsites down the road with Walter still firmly in them, right on his tent’s doorstep.
If you think the rum affected him at all, no such thing. He woke up at dawn, unlocked his bicycle and went for a 20 to 30 km bike ride and hiked up a mountain, smiling at us as we woke up around 11 am. the next day. Walter is a pro, a ski instructor, and a PSC executive, so it comes with the territory!
I had planned to try my luck at gold panning, but I had left my Kit back in Delta and enjoyed my free time relaxing and reading the latest novel in my colection. Some of those keen to get out and explore, took their bicycles to the local airport, hiked up into Silver Lake, or cruised into the town of Hope.
We had the awning out on the RV, a large welcoming mat on the ground, a table with a grass Tiki Umbrella, and lots of chairs all round. With the sun shining brightly, it was easy to just lay back, chat or read and let the time pass idly by. Breakfast, except for Walter and Trevor, usually took place between 10am and noon, but every day, some time after 3:30, we would see what was in stock and what we could offer at Cocktail Hour. Walter brought out meats and crackers, I’d make a plate or two of cold cuts and cheese, Trevor had fresh apples and plums, Irene had cherries and grapes, and we always had lots of peanuts and beer to help the rum, brandy, whisky or gin (was there brandy?) go down properly. Dinners were a communal event, sweet Chilliwack corn (Walter missed one night), salads, and a BBQ or other great food on the grill. No one that stayed up went hungry. As there was a fire ban, which has been the case so often, I had brought my propane fire-pit which, each night, provided warmth and the ambience required whenever camping in B.C. We played guitar, sang songs, told tall tales (or even true stories), and had a very pleasant time.
A few of us checked out the local area and found the cheapest gas price around at an Esso Gas Station just off the beaten track on the Hope-Flood Road. The big bonus was the Silver Chalice Pub just across the street.
This local tavern had outdoor seating and great food. We even came for breakfast the day we left. They offered a local ‘Yale’ beer on tap and had a great logo which they printed onto their T-shirts and other attire. In fact, it was so nice that when Pawel Drozdowaki and his family arrived from Winnipeg, his wife, Ela, had us go to the pub (for more beer, obviously) and buy another T-shirt for a friend of theirs.
When we left, a local car buff and driven a 1959 Chrysler Saratoga into the pub’s parking lot. A gleaming, black and chrome behemoth from the late 1950’s era; it took me back many years.
My first car was a Plymouth Savoy which had fin tails and rear lights similar to the 1957 Chevrolet and sported a gleaming chrome antenna on each fin. Later, I was lucky enough to buy a 1958 Chrysler Crown Imperial 2-door hardtop with its power house, a 392 Hemi boasting 385 Hp from the factory with its single 4-barrlel carburetor. That year, Chrysler even offered a two 4-barrel model and a Paxton Supercharger on the top Chrysler models as gas was 32 cents a gallon (approximately 4 litres) and not an object when buying these land yachts.
The 1959 Saratogoa at the Silver Chalice Pub, although a gleaming car which shows what cars should look like, was the first year that they installed the 383 overhead valve version as it was too expensive to manufacture the Hemi, an engine still being used in drag racing as you can boost these motors to 11,000 hp. Cars today, made of plastic and recycled junk, are a far cry from the beauty car manufacturers designed and built until the early 1970’s.
Wild Rose Camp Ground was far enough away so that the highway noise was not an issue. We had planned to hike up to the Othello Tunnels but we found out we had only booked for three nights and will leave that excursion for next year.
I hope to see many more camping next year as it is not only great to get out of Vancouver, but a nice way to spend quality time with friends.