At 7:00 AM Andre and I rose to another clear, cold morning. We made quick work of packing and eating breakfast and while the others we getting ready we hiked up the small knoll above our camp once again. On the way down we descended into a small meadow just past our camp to look for signs of the trail leading from the meadow into the woods. Finding a wide, blazed path near the top part of the sloped meadow, we headed back to camp and the rest of the crew.

It's 9 AM!!

In a mad frenzy, Ashley slung his pack over one shouder, slipped his tarp under his arm, hung his fanny pack around his neck and lunged toward Andre and myself grunting, "It's 9 AM, it's 9 AM!" Yes, the man was ready this morning!!

We followed the well-worn path through the forest, then along the open slope above the raging mountain creek. In no time at all were we faced with another crossing - the trail led to the edge of Grant Creek, continuing on it's other side.

Where the trail crossed was a great spot for horses, but not for us. Upstream a short distance was a convenient log jam, over which Ian, Joanne, Ashley and I passed our packs. Sarah, Aynslie and Andre opted for crossing in their sandals.

Once across, we were unable to find even a hint of a trail. Andre, Joanne and I scouted for almost an hour to no avail. We then decided that a fool-proof way to find this east-side trail, should it even exist, would be to hike directly east. As the trail runs north - south we would be sure to cross it.

Andre deftly navigated us around swamps and ponds, blowdowns and thickets of dense willow, leading us eventually into the deep forest. The heat of the day began to close in around us, and so did the flies. Finally we found ourselves climbing out of the valley and up the slope of the eastern hillside. No trail. We set down our packs, Andre and Ian scurried up the slope to see if perhaps the trail was just a bit above us, but found only steep, rocky slopes.

Aynslie officially proclaimed the trail to be a Snuffeleupagus trail - like the imaginary friend of Big Bird's on Sesame Street it did not exist.

What to do now?? Well, bushwhack to the damn lake, that's what! Master bush-basher Andre (aka 'Strider') expertly led us to our destination, always keeping one step ahead of the crew so it seemed like an almost effortless walk through the wilderness for us. Thick tangles of blowdowns, dense bush, and swamps were all navigated around while keeing us on a bee-line for the lake.

Arrival at Lorna Lake

Finally, on the eve of our fifth day, we arrived on the shores of Lorna Lake - every bit as splendid as the photos I'd uncovered during my research. A stiff wind bellowed down the lake as we set up our tents on a thin, long stretch of perfect beach, but the satisfaction was grand and our efforts well-rewarded by the spectacular surroundings.

I awoke during the night to hear a light rain falling on the tent fly, but warm and cozy in my bag I nodded off again until a loud roll of thunder rumbling up the valley awoke me again. The thunder brought on a torrent of rain, but when I poked my head out of the tent at 6 AM expecting to see dark clouds, I was greeted by clear skies.

Ian, Aynslie, Ashley and Sarah all slept in, but Joanne, Andre and I were awake early. As I stumbled quitely around camp to take in the morning sights I saw evidence that Joanne had already been up - a pot of lentils sat soaking near her tent.

As the morning was quite chilly, we only began to emerge from our warm tents when the sun had slipped high enough over the high ridge to shine down upon us just after 9 AM.