More Summits Means More Mushrooms | Sunshine Coast #4

The rain that'd begun just as we were settling in for our post-sunrise, pre-breakfast nap only ended up lasting for about half an hour, a quarter of the time that our InAccuweather app suggested that water would be falling from the sky.

And that meant we could stop - in the middle of the forest - for some sustenance.

Breakfast time under nature's umbrella.

After picking up a few aluminum cans that were strewn about, we figured that our proximity to Halfmoon Peak - and the fact that we could stay dry in the Tacoma, all the way to the top - was enough to take a short detour from our main itinerary for the day. It was a good call, because just as we exited the shelter of tall trees and the weather radome came into view, another wave of rain blew by overhead.

A radome is always worth a look-see.

Imagine, a country that openly acknowledges climate change!

As we looked out from the summit, we thought we could see our next destination - Spipiyus Peak - through the rain in the distance, but looking at the maps now, I think this was probably Buck Mountain.

Heading north on the frustratingly-frequently-drainage-ditched Halfmoon-Carlson FSR, we eventually covered the seven miles of speed-up-slow-down and reached the loop that would usher us around Spipiyus Provincial Park. A road that I'd expected to be a well-graded FSR, it turned out to be much slower going, with sections that were tight, narrow, and rocky.

At one point we caught up to a Jeep, and we stopped for a quick chat when they pulled over to let us pass, they joked, "Want to go get stuck together?"

The trail didn't turn out to be technically difficult, but it was slower going than we envisioned.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped. Even better, it looked like the sun was winning the battle with the clouds and patches of blue were starting to appear. It was still too early for lunch, but as we passed Lyon Lake, I turned down a short spur to see if it would offer us a pit stop after our first hike, and a place to stuff our faces with tasty treats.

Nice and calm.

Hey guys, let's build a road, but stop just before you can see the lake!

Though we'd need to find another spot for lunch, we headed down to the lakeshore on foot, before flipping the Tacoma around and headed another half mile up the road to the Spipiyus Peak trailhead.

With two major summits - Spipiyus Peak and Mt. Hallowell - in the park, this one is certainly the lesser travelled, and "trailhead" was being generous. Beginning at what was best described as a wide spot in the road, we headed into the woods. A decaying path of pink trail ribbons - tied to tree branches here and there - peppered the hillside, letting us know that we were still "on track."

As had been the case on every other hike, the pre-summit highlight was the fungi.

Our first encounter wasn't even a mushroom. This red-tipped lichen was super cool, and something we'd never seen before. Update: Lipstick Cladonia lichen (Cladonia macilenta) is actually a symbiotic growth of fungi and algae.

Pretzel ball? Try it, and let me know!

Tiny beach umbrellas.

Delicate.

The upscale - champaign - variant.

Super Mario mushroom.

The hike to Spipiyus Peak wasn't more than a half-mile long. Before long we emerged from the trees, our shoes, shirts, and pants all soaked after pushing our way through what once may have been a trail.

Water droplets on turning huckleberry foliage. Fall is on the way.

Into the open.

Made it.

The trees at the summit weren't tall, but even a short tree is taller than a tall us, so we couldn't see much from the summit. We'd expected as much, the same situation presenting itself throughout our home territory in the Pacific Northwest. I immediately climbed up the radio tower, reporting to my hiking companion that the climb definitely wasn't worth it.

Less than a year ago, that would have been it. Today though, we had the ultimate selfie stick.

Hanging out in the woods, looking out toward Sakinaw Lake.

Clouds floating by Narrows Inlet.

A few minutes later, our selfie stick stowed safely in my fanny pack, we pushed our way back through the underbrush, eventually stumbling out onto a wide spot in the road, where a Tacoma was waiting.

Now almost noon, it was time to eat lunch. Or almost time. First, we had to find a view.

Searching for a break in the trees.

So close, if only we wanted to eat from an old-growth stump, high above the road.

A break in the trees.

We really couldn't have found a better spot to eat lunch. We didn't discover this place looking out over Sechelt Inlet - evidenced by the well-developed fire ring and plethora of spent shells - but we were the first to claim it for this particular lunch, and that was fine by us!

Perfect.

It would turn out to be the best break in the trees that we'd find all day, so it was fortuitous that we happened upon it when we did.

As usual, I was basically useless as @mrs.turbodb whipped up our sandwiches. In this instance, I fancied myself a tortilla chip tester - you know, ensuring the bag hadn't been poisoned since our last sampling session - stuffing my face with as many as I could, hastening any negative side effects.

On the other hand, with no side effects, it meant I got to eat moar chips.

Half an hour later, and nearly to the trailhead for Mt. Hallowell, we continued on our way.

Why clear what can be climbed?

We reached the trailhead - this time, appropriately named, if buried in a deep dark wood and essentially unmarked - a little after 1:00pm. From there, we had half mile of meandering through the woods, and the same distance again straight up to the summit.

They rolled out the green carpet for us.

Weaving our way through the trees, @mrs.turbodb commented at one point that there weren't as many mushrooms on this hike as we'd seen elsewhere. Whether that was the case or not, it immediately resulted in several sightings of new-to-us specimens.

Rosy cap.

Mushroom poppers.

Remember to look up.

After an excruciating 40 minutes - not because it was long, but because we'd already done so many hikes over the last few days - on nature's stair climber, we finally reached a rockier section where the trees thinned a bit, allowing us a glimpse at our surroundings. They were spectacular.

In the distance, Vancouver Island. Then, Texada Island and the Malaspina Straight. And, winding toward us, Sakinaw Lake.

Well, look what we have here.

We'd known there was an old fire lookout at the top of Mt. Hallowell, but for some reason - likely I was not reading some trip report carefully enough, much as many are probably doing now - I thought it'd been restored. Nope.

Still, it was a fun place to find, with a few fun caches collected from the vicinity, and a summit log where we could leave a note.

I'm sure this old drill bit came from the copper mine we'd visit an hour later, carried up here by another hiker.

First official day of fall!

And of course, there were views-a-plenty to be admired in all directions.

Ruby Lake and the Jervis Inlet.

Texada Island, Malaspina Straight, and Sakinaw Lake.

The whole wow.

While I was messing around with various lenses and generally caught up with cameras, @mrs.turbodb wandered off to a nearby overlook where she could systematically compare the distant peaks and bodies of water to printouts she'd carried for the entire trip, naming each one in order, and pointing out places we'd been or seen over the last few days. Neato, ehh?

Not knowing she'd done this - I'd thought she'd headed back down the trail as snuck in a final photo or two - I spotted the overlook just off of the trail and headed that direction. This, I knew, was going to put me ten minutes - or more - behind my companion, but I have a hard time passing up the opportunity for a view, so as I wandered out on the rocks, I resolved to hoof it quickly down the mountain once I'd seen what there was to see.

Imagine my surprise when what I saw was @mrs.turbodb! She too hadn't been able to pass up the perch. Serendipity!

What is it they say about great minds? If I had one, I might remember.

In the distance, Tzoonie SW3 in the clouds.

The rest of our descent was quick and mostly uneventful. A few stops along the way for some huckleberries - red much tastier than blue at this time of year - and before we knew it we were back at the Tacoma with a decision to make: retrace our route along the eastern leg of the FSR, or work our way along the west, a yet-untraveled path for us.

A little past their prime, but brilliantly beautiful.

Throwing caution to the wind - and with some reassurance from my copilot that we had plenty of time to make our 8:30pm ferry out of Langdale, we opted for the western route with a twist - a quick stop at an old, reclaimed, copper mine on the side of Mt. Hallowell.

Not much left here.

We only found a little bit of the green stuff that the miners would have been looking for.

The views though - over Sakinaw Lake - were still as nice as they'd ever been!

And with that, we headed back around the mountain, completing the loop of Spipiyus Provincial Park just after 4:15pm and arriving in Sechelt just before 6:00pm for some burgers and fries before boarding the ferry that would shuttle us back to Vancouver.

Waiting.

The final sunset up the Howe Sound.

It'd been a great first trip to the Sunshine Coast. Not as sunny as we might have hoped, but perfect for hiking and - with so many inlets and waterways - one of the most striking landscapes we've explored in a long time.

 

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