The Deep Lake loop, Westsyde, Kamloops

Parking lot or what?

The trail to Deep Lake begins in a strange place in Westsyde. A narrow roadside stretch presses against a row of quiet houses where parking feels almost illegal even when it is not. It feels like borrowing someone else's front yard for a moment. From the windows of the houses someone might be watching strangers lace their boots and disappear into the hills.

When I arrived there was already a car parked. A man and his little boy were finishing their walk and they looked excited in the way children often do after an adventure. A few minutes later another car arrived and a woman stepped out with a dog. Everyone looked slightly uncertain as if we were all explorers pretending we knew exactly where the trail began. The air carried that quiet anticipation that exists before the first step into nature.

I sat in the car for a moment and put on my hiking shoes. They were new, still stiff and still clean, a gift from my daughter Noemi. I opened the AllTrails map on my phone, the one I proudly paid nineteen dollars for (first time in my life paying for a subscription, a recommendation from my friend Timmy), and checked the route again. The blue line showed a loop around the hills with a lake hidden somewhere in the middle. Then I stepped out of the car and began walking.

Ok Let's do it.

At the beginning the trail is confusing. One path climbs sharply upward immediately on a steep greasy slope of loose gravel that slides under every step. The other direction follows the road quietly before bending into the hills. The woman with the dog walked ahead and I followed at a distance. For a while the trail felt shared and familiar.

Then suddenly she disappeared. One moment she was ahead of me and the next moment the path was empty. Maybe she took another route or turned somewhere I did not notice. But the silence that followed felt strange and sudden. It was the moment when the hike truly became solitary.

The first climb was steep but rewarding. When I reached the ridge the valley opened behind me like a giant painting. The dry grasslands of Kamloops stretched outward in golden waves surrounded by distant mountains. Birds circled slowly in the sky above the open land. Even the silence seemed full of movement.

Eventually the trail passed through a small metal gate. It was simple and ordinary, yet stepping through it felt like crossing into another world. The air seemed quieter and the trees appeared closer together. For a moment I had the strange sensation that the land was watching me. Not in a frightening way, but in a patient ancient way.

The Deep Lake

Then the lake appeared. Deep Lake sat perfectly in the center of four small hills like a hidden jewel in the valley. The water carried an emerald color that reflected the sunlight in quiet flashes. A thin white shield of melting ice floated across the surface like a fragile mirror between seasons. It looked beautiful and slightly mysterious at the same time.

Standing there I felt something difficult to describe. Water carries sound differently than land and every movement spreads through it. Maybe a little wild creature under the water can hear footsteps from the shore and vibrations travel far beneath the surface. For a moment it felt as if the lake itself was listening. The hills around it remained silent and patient.

The lake looks like a mirror of gods, where they are observing us, but the gods that I am talking are the Sun, the Forest, the Mountains and very sure during the Night the Moon. Even it is a small Lake has its own personality. It was different. Maybe, if you have been there, you have not seen yet that connection.

Not far from the trail I noticed a curious rock resting alone in the dirt. It was perfectly round and surprisingly smooth. The shape looked almost exactly like a dinosaur egg. I laughed when I saw it but the imagination immediately started working. The land here is ancient and it is easy to imagine creatures from another time walking through valleys like this.

The cemetery of fallen giants

Beyond the lake the trail entered a quiet forest. The air became cooler and the smell of pine needles covered the ground. Sunlight filtered through branches in thin green lines. Then I discovered something unexpected among the trees. A cemetery of fallen giants.

Dozens of massive trunks lay scattered across the forest floor. Some were broken while others were slowly dissolving back into the soil. They looked like warriors who had fallen after a long forgotten battle. Standing among them created a strange feeling of respect. These trees must once have stood tall and powerful above the valley.

In that moment the imagination created another story. Perhaps the forest once protected something sacred in the valley. Storms, fires, and winters might have tested their strength for centuries. The fallen trunks could be the warriors who defended the land. And the forest itself could still remember their sacrifice.

Among the fallen giants one tree still stood. It was older, twisted by wind and scarred by time. Its branches stretched across the sky like the arms of an ancient guardian. From its position the entire valley and the quiet water of Deep Lake could be seen. It felt like the last sentinel watching over the place.

Gandulin, the adventurer

Curiosity slowly pulled me away from the main trail. A rocky ridge rose above the forest and something inside me wanted to climb it. Adventure has always been part of my personality. My grandfather used to call me Gandulin, a playful nickname for someone mischievous who always wandered where he should not. Maybe he understood me better than I realized.

The climb was not easy. Loose rocks slid under my boots and several times I had to use my hands to continue upward. At one moment I heard movement nearby and my heart jumped. An animal had moved through the rocks, maybe a goat or something similar. For a second I remembered that in this world I might look like the strange creature walking through their home.

At the top of the ridge the view was incredible. Deep Lake looked small and secret below the hills. The forest stretched across the valley like a quiet ocean of green and gold. The guardian tree stood among the fallen warriors below. In that moment the entire landscape felt alive.

My Dad is always there

While resting on a rock I remembered something from childhood. When I was eight years old my father made me climb Cruz Loma in Quito, Ecuador. Halfway up the mountain I cried because I was tired and wanted to stop. But he refused to let me quit and we kept climbing together. At the top I learned something important about persistence.

The hardest part of a mountain is not the climb. The hardest part is starting. Once the journey begins the body finds its rhythm and the mind grows quieter. Step by step the impossible becomes manageable. The lesson from that childhood climb returned to me on that ridge above Deep Lake.

Going back

The trail looked different on the way back. That is one of the mysteries of hiking because the same path never feels the same twice. The forest seemed friendlier and the hills more familiar. When I passed the cemetery of trees again I stopped for a moment. The fallen warriors and the standing guardian remained exactly where they had been before.

One day we will all become part of the landscape. Like those trees we will return to the soil that created us. Nature transforms everything slowly and patiently. Nothing truly disappears in the forest. Everything simply becomes something new.

And maybe one day a small part of me will return to this place as well. Carried by the wind or resting beneath the roots of a future tree. The forest remembers everything that enters its world. The hills of Westsyde will continue to watch over Deep Lake. And the trail will wait patiently for the next traveler to begin the walk.