Mr. Charlton Goes Hiking. By Himself

Anyone who knows me understands that, for the most part, Mr. Charlton gets around by putting one foot in front of the other. That’s recently changed now that I started biking to work, but for literal decades, if I was getting from point A to point B, I was walking. When people said they were headed to the country to go for a hike, I was always like, “Hey, good for you, but EVERYDAY is a goddamn trek for me. I just spent an hour getting groceries with a backpack, and you’re lecturing me on the benefit of trudging up a mountain? Go eat a bag!”

Look, I used to fill this bad with gross things to eat, like dicks or spiders. But really? A plastic bag on it’s own would be pretty fucking terrible.

Alright, I’m obviously suffering from a little PTSD – People Telling me Stories about their Day-Hikes. When living in Calgary, going out to Kananaskis country and hiking up the mountains was the thing to do, and I was quite often ridiculed for taking my hikes in the city. “Those aren’t REAL hikes” I was told again and again. And truthfully, it got under my skin. I started to not only hate that culture, but I started to hate the look they were rocking, the I just bought everything from Mountain Equipment Coop look. Here I was, hating people wearing clothes. Looking back on it, it now feels like a very Un-Mr.-Charlton-like thing to do.

Anyways, for years I dismissed hiking. If I was going to walk, it wasn’t going to be in a forest with zero martinis and mud on the floor. I went for hikes all the time when I was a kid. All the time! How many hikes did I go on when I was in scouts? I trekked up every mountain in the area, twice. A normal walk with the family was fifteen to twenty clicks (kilometers for anyone who doesn’t use the metric system). I camped in the goddamn middle of winter and our shelter was a snow cave. And it took hours to get there!

For the next fifteen years, I basically swore off the outdoors. Now, part of that was due to the fact that A) I lived in the city, so besides a bunch of nature walks and a few parks, there wasn’t a whole lot of nature in the area and B) I didn’t own a car, so getting our to those areas was basically impossible unless someone decided to go out hiking, which I did occasionally do. But then you’re paying for gas, it was a good hour, hour and a half to get somewhere, and you had to walk for eight hours with someone telling you how amazing everything around them is. So I never went too often. The flip side of this is that even though I did pretty much a handful of hikes in the full splendor of nature, I was walking through the cityscape like a madman. I wasn’t uncommon for me to pick a point on a map, take the bus there, and then hike back to my home, stopping at little interesting spots along the way. The city was new to me! I had been through every back country trail in and around my hometown, I had been to the top of all of the mountain ridges in the area, and none of those places has a pub where I could stop in and have a beer.

Does nature have pints along the trail? I don’t think so.

For a good decade, I hiked through the city. I went through parks, I found weird little niche communities, ate at amazing little tiny bakeries, and located some of the best hole-in-the-wall joints in the metropolis. I genuinely loved every bit of it, and even though most people scoffed at my idea of my “city hikes”, I was still telling people “I am a hiker”.

I move to a new city. A somewhat tiny city. A city that, while charming, is a lot smaller than what I’m used to. A city with less niche communities, less hole-in-the-wall joints. This wasn’t a bad thing, no, but suddenly my idea for city hikes kinda sorta dried up. I mean, even though I was busier than spit for the last three years, it feels liked I’ve already walked a good section of the city. And I haven’t even BEGUN to get my walk on. But things are a little different now. This city in the middle of the wilderness. I’ve got access to a vehicle. And getting to the hiking location isn’t an hour drive, it’s a fifteen minute one. So last Sunday, Mr. Charlton gets his rain jacket on, fills up a water bottle, makes sure he has a first-aid kit, and heads out to the wilderness for the first solo nature hike he’s done in years.

Goddamnit, I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t have one of the best experiences of my life. I mean, look at some of these pictures.

Alright, so I have now gone and purchased a better rain jacket, because as fun as this escapade into the mountains was, I still got pretty wet, and that’s not a great thing if you’re hiking in unfamiliar territory. I’ve also decided to bring food, as maybe not bringing anything wasn’t the smartest choice either. In fact, I went to the inter-tubes and looked up “Essentials for hiking” and got some extra stuff, like a little flashlight and a compass.

Yeah, I totally know how to use one of these. All that training from when I was nine and in boy scouts will come right back to me, I just know it.

Seriously though, I make maps for a living, so it might be worthwhile to watch a YouTube video on how to use a compass properly. But as I type this out, I’m also getting ready to go out tomorrow. This hike is going to be a little longer, a little steeper, and might end in a swim. Doing all of these things are definitely out of my comfort zone. But you know what? That’s the only way I know how to grow.


The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Losing weight? Going hiking? Shit, is Mr. Charlton going to get in shape next?

p.s.s. Yes, I am going to try and get into shape. Might wait a while to write about it though. Need some of those sexy before and after pictures.

Mr. Charlton Goes Camping – Part 2

Sometimes lightning strikes twice. Sometimes the Blue Jays have two great seasons in a row. And sometimes Mr. Charlton gets his game face on and heads out to the woods two times in a summer. Yes, for whatever inexplicable reason, Mr. Charlton packed up his tent, tarp, and trail mix, loaded his cooler with ham steak and beer, and whisked himself off to the magical land of paying thirty bucks a night to sleep on the ground.


For another $40, you can get a bed, a sink and a roof.

Actually, l have been planning this trip for a while now, and it was an attempt to recreate the camping trip me and my family used to go on when I was but a wee lad. Every year, for a number of childhood years growing up, my mom and dad would back up the truck, station wagon, or shaggin’ wagon (the trio of vehicles my folks drove when I was a kid), and take us camping a couple times a year. There was one campground that stood above the rest, by leaps and bounds. It was so popular you had to book months in advance. It was the Scotch Creek provincial park campground, nestled on the north side of the Shuswap lake.

It was the crème de la crème when it came to campgrounds. It had paved roads, hot showers, a huge park, awesome interactive shows at night. The campsites were big and spaced far apart. You could become a member of Ranger Jerry’s ranger squad, by completing tasks and showing up to the previously mentioned interactive shows. If you were rolling as part of Ranger Jerry’s squad when you were a kid, you were rolling deep. They were handing out stickers and awards for those who hustled for Ranger Jerry.

It wasn’t just me and the brothers that went down with my folks, it was a lot of our extended family as well. We had a big meetup of aunts and uncles and cousins, pretty much everyone on my mom’s side of the family. Combine that with the fact that most of the cousins were on the verge of transitioning from kid to teenager to adult, there was a lot of us getting into trouble. Staying up late, flirting with strangers, sneaking beers or wine from the parents, there was definitely a loss of innocence as we were all getting older. Some of my favorite times of my youth were spent hanging out with my brothers and cousins, storming around the park in a large mob.

The campground was a popular enough location that a number of attractions sprouted up around the area as well. There was a mini golf course, go-carts, bumper boats, and an arcade all situated close by, close enough that you could walk to them without any adult supervision. Tons of allowance money was blown at these little amusement locations close to the campsite. To top it off, there was a candy / ice cream store right across the entrance to the campground, where we’d go to get our sugar buzz on.


This little guy blew his allowance on heroin.

Needless to say, I hated camping growing up as a kid, but I loved the hell out of Scotch Creek. Mostly because I got to hang out with my cousins, aunts, and uncles. The question I wanted to answer by re-creating this trip was simple; Has Scotch Creek held up as a campground since I last went there? It has been almost two decades since I went there, how is it the same? How is it different? Will it be better, or worse?


Right off the bat, the only people who could make it were my brothers, their respective wife and girlfriend, and my mom. No big deal, we could report back to the rest of the family and let them know how the campground was. We could still go and have a good time. And I had a great time, don’t get me wrong. I haven’t seen my brothers in the flesh for over a year now, and it was great to reconnect. The campground, though…

It’s pretty much exactly the same. Almost. It’s the same, but a little worse for wear. The interactive programs? There wasn’t any. The mini golf, the go-carts, the amusement center? Gone. Fire wood used to be free, now you’re paying $7.50 a load (this isn’t exactly a bad thing, mind you. The campground used to be filled with wood smoke pretty much all the time, as people were burning wood 24 / 7. They also deliver the wood to your campsite). The little store has been replaced with a massive one. Which would be okay if the shelves weren’t completely bare. It reminded me of a bodega front. They may have been smuggling cocaine on their breaks.

The worst part by far was the beach. This was the main attraction. It was the reason people flocked to this campground, the reason it was so incredibly hard to get a spot, the reason everyone in my family was willing to put up with the overflow campgrounds in the area, the long wait times, the bullshit of trying to get a coveted spot in this park. Almost all the time we spent was at the beach. The sand was soft, the lake was warm, and the sun was almost always hot. A dock was set up not too far away, where you could congregate and dive off of. The swimming area was massive, and getting to the buoys was a challenge for adults, let alone children.

Now the beach is rocky and it’s painful to walk barefoot to the water. We used to have to get to the beach before 11:00am to get a spot, but the beach was mostly empty this time around. The lake is still warm, the sun still hot, but the dock is gone and the swimming area has been massively reduced. We ended up leaving the campground to go find a nicer beach down the road in Anglemont. Twenty years ago that would have been considered blasphemy.


They would not let me ride the Unicorn. Also look at the rocks.

It’s still a great campground, it’s just that before it was an amazing place that people flocked to. It was the campground that people fought over. Now, it’s just a campground with paved roads and plumbing and friendly staff. This isn’t just nostalgia talking. From what I can gather, the park just doesn’t have the same resources it once had, and it’s now suffering a little because of that.

Would I go back? Probably not. It was the beach and the family that made camping there an experience. The beach isn’t the same, and the family can vacation a little closer to the mainland next time.

Do I absolutely love camping? I want to tell people “Hell yes, camping is the goddamn best thing ever!” but to be frank, I’m a city boy at heart. I love the urban life. There’s one thing that makes camping amazing, though; Cooking on a campfire. And I’m not talking about greasy wieners on a stick. We’ll get to that next time.


The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Truthfully, I don’t know how the Blue Jays are doing this season. I just see a lot more hats, that’s all.



Mr. Charlton Goes Camping

Some of the people reading this know Mr. Charlton. They’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m about. If you’re not in the know, then I’ll lay out a few things about me, things that everyone should know.

  1. I have an affinity for good food and drink. I’ve got no qualms waxing poetic when it comes to what I’m stuffing into my face hole.
  2. I come across as classy. I tend to dress well when I need to dress well, I can speak effortlessly in the company of strangers, and I tend to send handwritten thank you cards after an enjoyable engagement. Classy stuff. And I don’t use words like face hole in public.
  3. I know enough about computers that people who don’t think I’m a wizard. On the flip side, I know enough about computers to be a complete hassle to the people who actually do know a lot about computers.
  4. I hate camping.

Now, when I say I hate camping, I mean I hate it down to my very core. It’s usually the last way I’d want spend vacation time. To give you an idea about how much I detested camping,  I’ll give you a breakdown how many times I went camping in my twenties.

  1. There was the one time I went camping with two buddies at the tail end of April when I was about 27 (I think).

That’s the only time I can remember going camping. Put it this way. It’s safe to say that the number of days I went camping for a decade and a half was probably less than seven.

There are a couple of reasons I’m not a big fan of camping. Probably the biggest reason is I’m from a small town in BC, where the community is nestled in the Rocky Mountains. It’s a beautiful place to grow up. I also hated it as a kid. I was fascinated by the city. The skyscrapers, the millions of people, the hustle, and the bustle. That’s where I wanted to be when I grew up, so the second I had the chance to move to the big city, I did. A fresh faced eighteen year old me went straight to Calgary when I had the chance. And I loved living there.

I could also mention the bugs, the smoke, the dirt, the not being able to shower every day. I hate plastic plates and cutlery. Can’t stand outhouses. People tell me “It’s not like camping when you’re a kid. You can drink now.” So what? I can drink at a bar in the city, surrounded by people instead of animals that want to eat me. Which makes it really weird that I’ve planned camping trips this summer.

You see, my girlfriend Kat loves camping. She has a camping box, with a camp stove, and a bunch of camping gear. One of her favorite stores is MEC. When we first started dating, it was one of the questions she fired in my direction right off the bat. I can actually still remember it, we were talking about the hobbies that consumed us, and she snapped her head in my direction, eyes bright and full, and she joyously asked “Do you like camping”? I remember staring off into the distance for a moment, trying the best way to phrase my displeasure in a manner that wouldn’t break her heart.

“No, I fucking hate camping”.

My response lacked tact, certainly. But when I saw her eyes droop and she quietly muttered “Ok”, I knew that if I were to spend any time with this girl, I’d have to occasionally go camping. I’d have to sit out in the cold, in rain , with mosquitos, with no showers and no martinis and no grocery stores within a walking distance. It would have to be done.

Fast forward a year, and we have yet to go camping. I decide to plan a camping trip, to the campground of my childhood, Scotch Creek provincial park on the Shuswap lake in BC. I make it a family affair and invite my brothers, my mom, aunts, uncles, and cousins. That’s camping trip is going to be happening in a couple weeks from now. But we needed to do a dry run, test out the equipment, figure what we can pack in the car. That happened last week, and here is the report.

I had a great time!

The weather was gorgeous, we went for a little hike, had a couple of fires, there weren’t any mosquitos, and our neighbors were quiet. Here’s a whole bunch of pictures I’m going to whore out, so you can live vicariously through me.


This was the second toad Kat caught.


Wild strawberries!


I caught a tiny bear, then decided to humiliate it by putting it on a leash.

Everything went absolutely according to plan for this camping trip. That’s kinda the problem. What happens when it starts to pour? What if the campsite is next to a slough and the mosquitos are out in full force? What happens if we get shitty neighbors that are playing shitty punk music until 5:00 in the morning?

It’s a gamble when it comes to camping. And I’m not a gambling man. Right now, the jury is still out on whether or not I’m a convert. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be a camper. In two weeks we’ll be spending a week outside, so I’ll have more to report when I’m back. Until then, if I had to pick between the outdoors and a nice hotel, I’ll take the king size bed with the air conditioned room. And hopefully, there’s a good bar close by.


The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. To be fair, camping at Scotch Creek is hardly camping. They have hot showers and paved roads, so it’s not exactly roughing it.