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THE HIKE

HEN someone suggested a hike up Grouse Mountain, for an

April Sunday, the suggestion was hailed with enthusiasm, and
plans at once were made to carry it out. Weather permitting, 9 o'clock
ferry, and a snack were the main points for the trip. All week —
your humble writer was rooting up the scant but necessary hiker's —
wearing apparel and found everything except suitable boots. However, —
with the help of a few hobnails, artistically arranged, a pair of old shoes
were soon converted into true hiker's togs.

All Saturday night the rain fell in torrents, which rather dampened our
hopes for the morrow. But Sunday morning broke with a promise of fair
weather. Of the twenty-odd people who said they would go, only
twelve turned up at the ferry. By the time Mosquito Creek was reached
the morning had brightened considerably and was steadily getting
warmer. Then the climb began—also a great deal of puffing. When
half-way was reached we were glad to rest a little longer and quench our
| thirst with oranges or apples. After this little respite we had gained
our second wind and pushed on. Some of the spots along the trail
required long limbs to span the crevices, and it was indeed fortunate
that most of the party were blessed with such. Deep snow was encount-
ered near the top, but for those who had spiked shoes there was little
if difficulty in making headway, but one unfortunate soul had spikeless
soles which ran rampant over the slippery places, which must have been
rather disturbing to the possessor.

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