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It all happened
many years ago, when I was a young and ardent hiker and climber. In
those days, we didn't carry maps, trails were not named, there was no
Search and Rescue team, and strangely enough, we never got lost. When
there were no trails, we bush-whacked. We had never heard of hypothermia
and when we were thirsty there was always a stream of cold, crystal
clear, mountain water to drink. We hadn't heard of pollution, either.
As a member of the
original Hollyburn Pacific Ski Club, during the winter I clomped around
on my heavy skis (I paid $10.00 for them) . They were clamped to my
hiking boots with no safety release.

"Everybody's Buddy. Buddy on Hollyburn. The skis cost $10.00", March, 1928
(Buddy Barker/Win Oliver Collection)
With the coming of summer, our
activities changed. Saturday evenings found us trudging up Seymour or
Lynn Creek, to roll up in our blankets on a sandy beach. Sleeping bags
were an unknown luxury. I vividly remember one evening, by the Seymour
River, when we were treated to a breathtaking display of Aurora
Borealis, kaleidoscope of vivid colors flashing across a velvety black
sky.

Buddy on Neil Beaumont's shoulders with Scotty McRae standing on a boulder beside her.
Harry Collins is standing at the lower right. The Seymour River is to the right
of the swimmers. July, 1928 (Buddy Barker/Win Oliver Collection)
On the July 15th
week-end in 1928, my hiking group had planned to climb Crown Mountain,
on Vancouver's North Shore. They had started out on Saturday morning,
were to overnight on Goat Mountain and climb Crown on Sunday. In those
days, I worked all day Saturday, so I was unable to join them. However,
after dinner that evening, I received a phone call from my friend Harry
Collins. He and three or four friends were catching the ten o'clock
North Van ferry and would hike all night in order to meet in the
morning, with those camped on Goat. Would I like to join them? Of course
I would!
I quickly changed,
put some food in my old army pack, a hand-me-down from the First World
War, met the boys at the ferry and by 10.30 we were on our way up
Lonsdale and on to the Mosquito Creek trail and starting our night-long
trudge up Grouse Mountain.
It was an
extraordinary night. The brilliant moon seemed as bright as a noon-time
sun. The trees, the crags, the gorse, were bathed in its radiance. Our
little group was spell-bound. It was an experience never to be
forgotten.
At last we reached
the Chalet site, traversed the west side of Grouse Peak and found
ourselves on the steep trail up Dam Mountain. It was rough! Finally, we
reached the top and from there, progressed along a ridge to the round,
rocky knoll that is the summit of Goat Mountain. It was five o'clock on
Sunday morning. Under the newly-risen sun, we were welcomed by our
camping friends. They were just coming alive after an uneasy night of
sleeping on hard rock. We joined them for a hasty breakfast.
"Having breakfast at 5 AM, July 15, 1928 on Goat Ridge enroute to top of Crown Mtn."
(Kay Park Collection)
Across a seemingly
bottomless valley, was our view of Crown Mountain and the Camel. A
daunting sight! It was no time to get discouraged though, so down we
went; down, down and down.

Crown Mtn. and the Camel from Goat Ridge, July 15, 1928
(Buddy Barker/Win Oliver Collection)
Then came the scramble up the other side,
through heavy timber. I don't remember if I ever thought I might not
make the final assault. Finally, we did emerge above the timber-line and
scaled the bare rock to sit astride the peak. It was an awesome feeling;
as I looked down the eastern side, there was nothing to be seen but
trees. In contrast, the other side was a huge expanse of bare rock,
extending down for hundreds of feet. Not the place to fall!

Buddy Barker "astride Crown Mtn., July 15, 1928" (Buddy Barker/Win Oliver Collection)
Gordie Billingsley
had carried a large watermelon all the way up. He kindly shared it with
us. Some of the hardier chaps traversed the narrow ledge over to the
Camel. Then it was time to start back, down through the trees and up on
to Goat. A meal and then over Dam, around Grouse Peak and down all the
way to the North Van Ferry. I arrived home about Ten o'clock Sunday
evening, fell into bed and was up and at work Monday morning at eight
thirty. A very energetic week-end! Whatever has become of all that
energy?
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