The fog had rolled in on Friday night, it was so creepy. You could see it coming from miles away, over the ocean, drifting towards downtown. Then one by one, it gobbled up a building around us until we could barely see out the window. “The fog that turns people inside out,” John said. I giggled repeatedly then slinked over to the couch where I had been lying all day, home sick from work.
Back to getting lost. We headed into the park, leaves crunching beneath our feet, Canadian Geese staring us down, just waiting to attack. There were still flowers left on some of the shrubs and rhododendrons in the gardens. People out for jogs donned toques and there was an abundance of couples out for walks in matching Goretex jackets [wiki]
We we turned into the forest which seemed more dense than usual, it could be because with the fog it was dark as night in there, although it was barely 4pm. As the grade increased John would tell me, “this is where it gets tough” during his runs. You never realize how many hills are in the park until you’ve trekked around a bit. When you’re out on Georgia street think of how high you must travel to get up to Lions Gate bridge, it’s a bit of an illusion, except if you’re a jogger on the trails.
The cold started to get to me. It wasn’t really a bone-chilling, shivery cold as much as my nose and cheeks turned bright red, and my hands went directly into my pockets. We trudged along noticing that the little streams that had evaporated during the summer were slowly coming back to life. We twisted and turned, took a few marked paths and some that weren’t. We finally emerged from the trees I had no idea where I was. John had successfully turned me around so much that I didn’t know which way was up. I looked left and right, and told him to get back to my side of the road. He didn’t understand, but I thought he was going the wrong way… I always know which way is North, I’m the better one with directions and always have my bearings… But it wasn’t until I stepped out onto an overpass, peered down at the rushing cars, and over at the North Shore that I realized how turned about he had me. I knew exactly where we were. Duh.
After taking a minute to rest and snap some pics we headed home along familiar routes we had taken all summer on our way to the beach and back. Our two hour Tour de Stanley came to an end with a leisurely walk around Lost Lagoon and back home again. You can travel far and wide and live in this city your entire life, but I tell ya, that Park always surprises me.