Teresa Sullivan and her Jeep Wrangler skirted one of the many raging torrents that carved the valleys of the Bralorne Mountains.
Everyone knew that Wednesday would be a long day with many miles of highway to cover. Had it not been for the barrage of mosquitoes harassing us in camp, we would have all voted to stay in the Whipsaw country a while longer. But Canada's highways had a treat in store for us, and as we chased them northwest through the towns of Tulameen, Merritt, Spence's Bridge, and Litton, we experienced vast landscapes of towering mountains and expansive, grassy plains. By early afternoon, we began to drop into the deep, volcanic gorges that are home to the mighty Thompson River. Along its shores we drove in anticipation of its confluence with the equally powerful Fraser River. Turning up the Fraser River, we now looked forward to reaching Lillooet and stepping into a hot shower. Unfortunately, there was a growing question in our minds as to whether we would be able to reach Lillooet. A day earlier, we had received word that Lillooet was on a two-hour evacuation notice due to extensive forest fires around the town. When we finally arrived in Lillooet, the scene bordered on surreal with the heavy smell of smoke filling the air and the foreboding glow of flames dancing across the surrounding mountains. As the evening sun faded through a burning sky, heavy raindrops began to fall from an unwelcome electrical storm.
The evening campfire had become customary by the end of the week. It seemed to be a friendly trait of the Canadian off-road enthusiast to leave behind a good supply of firewood and a clean camp for future visitors. We reciprocated. | 
The group stopped to take a rest and pose for a team photo along Washington's North Cascade Highway. |  |
Although we made it through the night without needing to evacuate, Thursday morning did not bring much improvement to Lillooet's condition. With every mile that we put between the town and ourselves, I think everyone secretly felt more comfortable. After skirting the azure shore of Carpenter Lake, we climbed for miles and miles up into the spectacular Bralorne Mountains, with its forests of quaking aspen, lodgepole pine, and grand fir. Eventually, we made the turn onto the Mud Lake trailhead, and it quickly became evident that this heavily wooded trail hadn't had any visitors in a long time -- with the exception of the local bear population, whose tracks were abundant.
As the rocky trail climbed, the trees thinned and every turn began to reveal another meadow or lake, seemingly more beautiful than the last. The name Mud Lake didn't seem very appealing, but as the afternoon melted away and we finally rolled to its shores, we were treated to an absolutely beautiful setting. Mud Lake was crystal-clear, surrounded by timber, and joined by an immense, flowered meadow that was perfectly suited to camping. We never would have imagined our third and final campsite surpassing the first two on this Canadian odyssey, but Mud Lake took the prize. With our now customary campfire blazing and a circle of friends to share it, it was a wonderful place to spend our last night on the trail.
Most everyone in camp seemed to agree that Friday had arrived too soon, but fortunately, we still had a solid day of off-roading ahead of us. After rolling out of camp, the last leg of our trip took us up a series of steep, ongoing switchbacks. A couple of hours into the trail, the trees had thinned as we worked our way above the tree line to a rocky, dome-shaped mountaintop. From the mountaintop, we were rewarded with a 360-degree panorama that revealed mountain range after mountain range for hundreds of miles. The shear vastness of our surroundings gave us a sense of isolation that we've rarely felt from the seat of a 4WD vehicle.
From the dome, we began our long decent down into the Yalakom Valley. This valley actually felt more like a series of valleys that cascaded down from one to the next. As we dropped lower in elevation, our tires dipped into more and more streams and we encountered increasingly lush vegetation. Flowers of all kinds were in abundance, and at times the air was so full with the scent of wild roses that we couldn't help rolling our windows down and slowing our pace. Nearing the bottom of the valley, the creeks transformed into torrents and the trail gave way to gravel roads and bridges. As our speed began to increase, we rounded a turn and for the first time on the trip we caught a glimpse of a large brown bear darting into the cover of the forest. It wasn't much farther when an ominous expression came over the afternoon sky and rain began to close down upon us like a curtain. It seemed a fitting end to our journey as we cleared the last low-lying hills and arrived at the turn that would lead us back to Lillooet and home.
ARB's resilient group of travelers posed for its last team photo high up in the Bralorne Mountains. | 
ARB's Buddy King took in the surreal atmosphere of Lillooet, which seemed haunted by a ghostly shroud of red smoke. | 
Jesse Hawkins of Hawk Suzuki dangled from the end of a winch cable as she prepared to crawl her way up a muddy hillside in the Apex Bowl country. |