Go on, scramble higher at Downtown Creek

Remember the childhood thrill of playing on a jungle gym or nimbly scaling a rock wall?

Playgrounds are reminders that kids are born scramblers.

With age, the urge to clamber like our primate kin may diminish, but it never entirely extinguishes.

Care to reconnect with the feeling of stretching your legs while grasping for handholds?

It’s open season for scrambling.

Although snowpacks persist in the alpine regions around Vancouver hardy green ground cover is the norm.

It’s alpine flower season along the Duffey Lake Road past Pemberton, what the Sea-to-Sky Highway becomes after it crests the Cayoosh Pass.

That’s where the fun begins.

Pick from a dozen routes on either side of the narrow valley during a panorama-packed passage toward Lillooet.

Bring along some like-minded friends and honour the code: if in doubt, bail out.

The most easily accessible route to scrambling country threads its way through Joffre Lakes Provincial Park past a trio of lakes so bewitching that you’d best look the other way while passing, lest your will to reach higher ground wither under their spell.

Wonder at the three jewels later, on descent.

Many of those with whom you share the path shoulder mountaineering equipment.

And well they should, especially if Joffre Peak is their objective.

Joffre is a trophy summit, and tests the upper limits of climbing skills.

If you’re new to this or simply hunger for a mellower outing in the peaks, consider a less-weighty option: a scramble.

According to author and mountaineer Matt Gunn, scrambles are mountain climbing simplified. On the phone from his home in Kimberley, where he recently relocated after a decade of exploration around Vancouver, Gunn said the beauty of this approach is that “you can hike unencumbered with a light pack, cruise fast, and often be back home the same day after seeing amazing places.”

In the same breath, Gunn cautioned that scrambling can be a dangerous activity and that it involves inherent risks.

When asked to describe what sets the Coast Mountains around the Lower Mainland apart from elsewhere in the province, such as the East Kootenay, where he cut his teeth as a young mountaineer, Gunn singled out the ruggedness of local peaks, which are often linked by welcoming alpine ridges.

“To reach those ridges requires considerable elevation gain through a lush rain-forest environment,” he replied.

“The Coast Mountains are so different from the Rockies and Purcells. It’s all rock and glaciated terrain in southwest B.C. One of the neat characteristics is the visually dramatic landscapes of broad, glaciated peaks.”

Another defining feature is the geological composition of the Coast Mountains themselves.

“Granite makes for solid scrambling with less scree, which means it’s less scary, as handholds aren’t as liable to shear off. The change in geoclimatic zones as you move inland from the coast lends more diversity as well, plus there are incredible views from the ridges where you look down on lakes and fiords. You won’t find that anywhere else.”

Among the choices for easy exploration off the Duffey Lake Road are a number of logging roads that lead to trailheads at higher elevations.

One of these is Ainsworth Lumber’s Downton Creek Forest Service Road.

It’s linked to a well-maintained hiking route that leads into the open alpine headwaters of Downtown Creek, one of Gunn’s favourite scrambles.

It’s easy to see why.

Swaths of pink-blossomed fireweed as tall as cornstalks surround the trailhead, above which rises a grey-maned massif.

If it’s possible to fall in love with a peak at first sight, meet your newest heartthrob.

Go ahead and bestow a name on it, as you’ll be keeping company for the duration of your scramble.

Not that its pinnacle is your objective: be satisfied to reach an adjacent ridge that Gunn has dubbed Peak 840.

To do that in comfort, plan a weekend away from Vancouver.

Pack in camping gear and, after a two-hour hike from the trailhead, rest up overnight at a small campsite beside one of two alpine tarns fed by Downtown Creek.

There’s only enough level space among the moss-covered hummocks for two tents, so plan accordingly.

When it comes to making your way from the lakes to Peak 840, use your wits.

There’s no marked trail, nor is there much need of one.

The way is clear.

Simply start scrambling uphill from the lake past tightly packed copses of fir and through meadows of alpine flora.

Your presence will arouse the curiosity of a colony of hoary marmots, many of whom will be sunning themselves atop boulders scattered across the multihued amphitheatre.

When you finally look down from the windblown peak, the sweet wine of success never tasted so good, all because you freed your inner child for a little scrambling.

ACCESS:

Duffey Lake Road (Highway 99) begins 160 kilometres north of Vancouver in Mount Currie and leads 100 kilometres to Lillooet.

Joffre Lakes Provincial Park lies 25 kilometres northeast of Mount Currie.

The Downtown Creek Forest Service Road begins about 40 kilometres north of Joffre Lakes on the north side of the highway. After 5.7 kilometres on that road, turn right where the road forks and right again at 10.7 kilometres onto “Branch 2”. Drivers of vehicles with low clearance should park here; otherwise, stay left where the road forks at 12 kilometres and continue two kilometres further to a clearing. The well-marked Downtown Creek Trail begins on the north side.

For information on Matt Gunn’s Scrambles in Southwest British Columbia (Cairn, 2005) visit www.cairnpublishing.com.

To gauge snow levels in the local Coast Mountains, view Whistler Blackcomb’s Web cams at www.whistlerblackcomb.com/weather/cams/index.htm.

Information on Joffre Lakes Provincial Park is at www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/joffre_lks.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

It’s getting easier to camp in B.C.’s provincial parks

Summertime, and the camping is easy—and it’s getting easier by the day.

In recognition of an aging homegrown population coupled with an increasing number of newly minted Canadians with no outdoor experience, this year B.C. Parks is bent on attracting more visitors to two Lower Mainland provincial campgrounds. Specifically on offer are sheltering roofs and soft beds.

In April, Sea to Sky Park Services, a Vancouver-based company contracted by B.C. Parks to administer 18 provincial campgrounds such as Alice Lake in Squamish, announced that two log cabins featured during the 2010 Winter Games had been relocated to Porteau Cove Provincial Park north of Horseshoe Bay.

When reached at his office in Mount Seymour Provincial Park in North Vancouver, where his family has run snow-sports facilities since the 1990s, general manager Eddie Wood said that the Olympic cabins are a great way to introduce people to the outdoors and to provincial parks. “There are three things I like about the new Porteau Cove options: the proximity to Vancouver and Squamish; the ocean at your doorstep; plus, cabins give us an opportunity to attract more people to the park, a demographic who don’t have camping gear or families with ageing parents who still want to come together in the outdoors.”

Wood pointed out that the cottages, which are already heavily booked, come fully equipped “with all the amenities of home”.

Rates for the winterized cabins, which have a maximum occupancy of four, run well above the $30 cost of a vehicle-access campsite at Porteau Cove: $219 per night during summer months and $139 in the off-season.

In May, Wood announced a similar initiative at Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park, where this summer a nine-metre, four-person RV trailer rents for $125 per night, linen not included.

In 2007, then–B.C. minister of parks Stan Hagen called for expanded choice of accommodation in a number of popular campgrounds.

Until this year, aside from a call for tenders, there was little evidence of what the government had in mind.

“We don’t want to take away from existing campsites,” Wood said, “especially as use over the past two years really picked up when fuel prices skyrocketed. We’re working with B.C. Parks to identify new areas of the parks for future sites or bringing in RVs at low season, such as May-June at Cultus Lake.”

Overall, Wood said, although camping got off to a slow start this spring, weekends were the exception.

“Victoria Day was the strongest we’ve ever seen. Due to the weather, there had been a real downturn in day visits, but on Thursday [July 8] we had to close the gate at Alice Lake by early afternoon because of the volume. For that to happen midweek is almost unheard-of.”

For reservations at Porteau Cove or Chilliwack Lake provincial parks, visit discovercamping.ca/.

Cabins and RV camping are one thing; overnighting in historic residences and locales offers an elevated experience infused with the spirit of the past.

Such is the case at Fort St. James National Historic Site in B.C.’s Interior, where Parks Canada has just announced that for the first time visitors can spend a night in the fort’s restored 1880s log home this summer.

Bring your jammies and the staff does the rest. Cost: $100 per person per night, dinner and breakfast included.

For Fort St. James National Historic Site, call 250-996-7191, ext 25.

The incomparable reward of camping is the chance to share the outdoors with the sounds of birdcalls and rushing rivers as a full moon rises above a snowcapped peak.

Such is the nature of another Interior site, the ’Ksan Campground in Hazelton, where Gitksan First Nations have lodged for millenniums.

Beneath the weathered face of Mount Rocher DeBoule, or Stii Kyo Din, once stood an ancient city-state, Tam Lax Aamid, where several tribes lived harmoniously beside the Skeena River.

A catastrophic series of events, including the massacre of warriors by supernatural one-horned goats, led to the abandonment of what may have been one of North America’s largest pre-contact societies.

’Ksan offers far more than a picture-perfect campground.

The past blurs with the present at the adjacent historical village made up of five longhouses.

Executive director Laurel Smith-Wilson explained that when opened in 1960, ’Ksan became the first aboriginal museum in Canada. “Our original structure, the Fireweed House, was moved here from historic downtown Hazelton. Despite ceremonies being outlawed for a time in the 20th century, our regalia and customs remain intact.”

Take a look for yourself.

An abundance of food allowed the Gitksan, or People of the River of Mists, to camp here year-round.

At the very least, treat yourself to a night too.

Camping details at ’Ksan are posted at www.gitanmaax.com/businesses/ksan-campground/.

Unfortunately, travellers these days aren’t scrambling for space at ’Ksan—or elsewhere around the province, for that matter—which means bad news for Joss Penny, chairperson of the Camping and RVing B.C. Coalition.

Established in 2008 to promote rural, nature-based tourism, the nine-member group represents more than 1,100 public and private campgrounds. “In a recession, tourism is the first to feel the pinch,” Penny told me. “It’s tough out there right now.”

For maps and information on campgrounds throughout B.C., visit Camping and RVing B.C. Coalition’s Web site.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Experience Cheakamus Canyon on Rocky Mountaineer’s Sea to Sky Climb rail journey

ACCESS: Paradise Valley Road begins four kilometres west of Highway 99 via Squamish Valley Road, 12 kilometres north of downtown Squamish. Paved for much of its 11.3-kilometre length, Paradise Valley Road links with the Sea to Sky Trail, which leads five kilometres through the Cheakamus Canyon to Highway 99.

To learn more about the Sea to Sky Trail, pick up a copy of our guide, The Whistler Book, or visit www.seatoskytrail.ca/.

For information on Rocky Mountaineer’s Sea to Sky Climb, visit www.rockymountaineer.com/.

From Paradise to Starvation sounds like a potboiler of a journey.

It certainly was when construction of the Pacific Great Eastern Railway began almost a century ago north of Squamish.

Even today there’s a wild flourish of adventure to be had while retracing the route that leads through the Cheakamus Canyon from Paradise Valley to Starvation Lake.

This five-kilometre section serves as one of the most scenic links in the Sea to Sky Trail, an unfinished recreational route that links Squamish with Whistler, Pemberton, and points north.

For those with a yen to experience the narrowest confines of the Cheakamus Canyon from the comfort of a front-row seat, a tourist train that runs daily between North Vancouver and Whistler during the summer is the ultimate way to go.

No matter how you choose to explore the canyon, the experience will leave you breathless, particularly between now and early July while the spring runoff in the Cheakamus River is in full bore.

The river is fed by snowmelt that collects in Cheakamus Lake in Garibaldi Provincial Park and is further added to by numerous creeks and rivers as it races to meet the ocean at Squamish.

Where the sheer walls of the canyon channel the clear green-hued water into a white froth, the river roars.

One person well acquainted with the canyon is Sea to Sky Trail project manager Gordon McKeever.

McKeever told me that the current pathway through the canyon is a remnant of the road built in 1913 to facilitate construction of the railway.

He also pointed out that—as on other sections of the work-in-progress trail—there are several hurdles to be cleared before the Cheakamus Canyon portion is completed.

“Holistically, there are two issues,” he said. “The Squamish First Nation has a land lease at the north end of the trail where it comes out of the canyon and joins Highway 99. It’s not closed, but we are working on collaborating with them to resolve the land-use issue to our mutual benefit.”

McKeever also spotlighted a section of the trail that temporarily washed out several years ago and lies within current owner Canadian National Railway’s right of way.

“It’s not clear who put a lot of work into creating the safe crossing which currently exists. It wasn’t a ‘midnight trail-building’ project by any means.”

With cautious optimism, McKeever noted that members of the Canadian Forces’ Joint Task Force Games intend to leave a legacy in the Sea to Sky Corridor following their involvement with security at 2010 Winter Games venues around Whistler.

“They’ve offered to build a safer permanent crossing there. But at the middle-management level, I sense CN doesn’t want anyone to use the trail. For the moment, it’s strictly a case of using it at your own risk, which all kinds of people do on a daily basis.”

Should you wish to experience the Cheakamus Canyon on foot or by mountain bike, keep several factors in mind.

With the exception of toddlers toted on their parents’ backs, this is not a child-friendly portion of the Sea to Sky Trail, particularly from the north end of Paradise Valley, where a short, steep stretch leads uphill atop granite boulders shaped like giant molars.

From there, allow 30 minutes to reach gemlike Starvation Lake on a secluded plateau between Highway 99 and the canyon.

If this is as far as you wish to go, follow a rough road just south of the lake downhill to the train tracks.

From that viewpoint, water in the Cheakamus can be witnessed repeatedly transforming between tranquillity and turbulence where the river falls through a series of short drops and swirls among boulders.

As the Sea to Sky Trail climbs steadily uphill beyond the lake, the most dramatic scenery occurs within a 30-minute hike, including one stunning clearing where the massive Tantalus Range peaks display their best faces.

Further on lies the cliff crossing, definitely not for the squeamish but sturdy enough to support a steady stream of hundreds of cyclists in the annual Cheakamus Challenge mountain-bike race held each September.

Beyond doubt, Rocky Mountaineer’s Sea to Sky Climb rail journey is the most comfortable and intimate way to experience the canyon, especially from the open-air heritage observation car, a 1914 relic that was state-of-the-art when the PGE line debuted and still holds its own against the train’s Plexiglas-enclosed passenger cars.

Lean out as the engineer eases back on the throttle and brings the pace to a crawl.

In places, the canyon narrows so dramatically it’s almost possible to touch both sides at once.

Where the train crosses a trestle bridge, views of the iconic Black Tusk appear that are far superior to anything seen from the highway or trail, reason enough to treat yourself to a day trip where someone else does the heavy lifting.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Make tracks to city beaches in Vancouver

If there’s one sight visitors to Vancouver seek on arrival, it’s the Pacific Ocean.

For neophytes, that initial encounter often proves underwhelming.

They can be excused for asking what time the surf comes up.

The rhythm of the world’s largest body of water is decidedly more muted around the city’s shoreline than farther afield on the wave-thumped west coast of Vancouver Island.

However, once expectations have been rejigged to match reality, there’s a magical world to discover during an outing along the inland sea.

Here are three easily reached spots to dip a finger in the brine.

One salty lick will confirm the truth that here lies a vast marine frontier whose borders define the shorelines of four continents.

Come along and sample one for yourself, each of which displays a unique identity of its own.

The strands that ring Point Grey on the city’s West Side offer a variety of approaches, from the easy-to-reach Arcadia Beach on Vancouver’s outer harbour adjacent Spanish Banks to the slippery slopes of Trail 7, which winds downhill from a viewpoint on Southwest Marine Drive.

If the tides permit, you could spend a day traversing the five kilometres of shoreline between the two.

Of the five main access points, Trail 4, which begins on the north side of the UBC Museum of Anthropology, offers the most variety, both ecological and cultural.

Traditional welcoming figures carved by Musqueam artist Susan Point and ceremonial poles hewn by master Haida artist Bill Reid, among others, define the approach.

Behind the larger of two longhouses, a sturdily built trail leads down from the lip of a sandstone cliff almost 400 steps to the beach below.

As Trail 4 descends, its staircases pass through Pacific Spirit Regional Park’s lush forest of ferns, alders, and evergreens.

Where the path ushers out onto Wreck Beach, massive driftwood logs and root balls lie mired in the sand.

Barring a major storm, it’s unlikely the jumble will drift away soon.

This suits beach regulars, who shelter behind them just fine.

In warm weather, this is one of the more discreet clothing-optional sections of the park, the flip side of the carnival atmosphere found farther west at the foot of Trail 6.

Scan the surroundings from this serene vantage point.

To the east, most of the city’s skyline lies hidden from view, while to the west lies horizon on ocean.

Islands in the Strait of Georgia lie shrouded in haze; to the north, the Tantalus Range’s wall of peaks at the head of Howe Sound rise white and formidable.

Closer at hand, across the mouth of Burrard Inlet, trails on three of Cypress Provincial Park’s peaks herald where skiers and snowboarders play.

A rocky breakwater demarcates the beach into sand on one side and cobble-sized gravel on the other.

Unlike city beaches elsewhere, only here do you begin to sense a vastness of oceanic proportions.

Depending on the level of the tide, either scramble west below the weathered cliff’s smooth face or pick your way east toward two concrete Second World War artillery towers emblazoned with a crazy patchwork of spray-painted images, such as a tawny mutant whose face gleams out at the foot of Trail 3.

Find a log to perch on and let the lapping of the waves go to work on your mind.

For detailed information, contact Metro Vancouver Park’s West Area office, 604-224-5739, or visit www.metrovancouver.org/ and do a search for Pacific Spirit Park.

To view a selection of images of Pacific Spirit Park’s Wreck Beach between Trails 4 and 3, visit www.flickr.com/photos/24806767@N03/sets/72157623418751477/

Of all the waterfront approaches in Stanley Park, Third Beach offers the most serenity.

Perhaps it’s the calming influence of poet Pauline Johnson, credited with naming Lost Lagoon, whose memorial sits tucked away in a shaded grotto above the beach.

From this crescent-shaped strand tucked midway between Second Beach and Siwash Rock, look west toward the snowcapped Vancouver Island mountain ranges.

Like blinders, the forested slopes of the peninsula surrounding the beach shield most else from view, including English Bay and the North Shore.

Even though passersby on the seawall overlook the beach, seclusion can be found by tucking into one of the upturned corners of the beach’s smile.

The copper-hued colour of the sand is unique to Third Beach, the product of relentless wave action on a sandstone reef offshore.

Crimson of a different tone is displayed above the beach, where one of the largest red alders in Canada anchors the grassy hillside just west of a concession stand.

To further enhance a visit, follow the pathway that leads uphill through a formidable grove of western red cedar, western hemlock, and broadleaf maple. Rainforest and oceanfront combine here in a classic West Coast environment.

For a detailed map of Stanley Park, visit www.vancouver.ca/parks/parks/stanley/.

Finally, Portside at Crab Park offers one of the best views of the working harbour from one of Vancouver’s tiniest beaches.

This site was once called Luckylucky, or Grove of Beautiful Trees, by local First Nations paddlers.

A sand-and-pebble beach adjoins a viewing pier.

Seek out several sculpture installations placed in the pocket park that has been landscaped with grace.

Don’t miss the brace of Chinese lions mounted on either side of the overpass that leads into the park from the north foot of Main Street. The duo perfectly frames the Sisters, Vancouver’s iconic twin peaks, more commonly known today as the Lions.

There’s more to entertain the eye here than it seems possible to squeeze into one encounter with the Pacific.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Advice from the fittest: exercise is a lifestyle

Whether you surf, ski, cycle, run, or blend a snack pack of exercises into a unique fitness menu all your own, southwestern B.C. offers just about every option to foster well-being while revelling in fresh air.

Sports physiotherapist Carl Petersen, author of three fitness guides for skiers, tennis players, and expectant mothers, has made a career of helping active Vancouverites stay in shape.

When contacted at his City Sports and Physiotherapy Clinic, Petersen defined fitness as “having the physical qualities of flexibility, stamina, stability, strength, speed, and skill to comfortably carry out the activities of daily living and recreation without undue strain and stress to the body’s systems”.

That doesn’t sound like too hard an assignment, especially if the emphasis falls firmly on the side of comfort.

Do professionals like Petersen work to stay fit or does their work keep them fit?

Look no further than Gwen Milley, a ski patroller at Whistler Blackcomb since 1991.

During winter months, the mother of six- and eight-year-old boys spends four days a week hiking ridges, throwing avalanche bombs, performing rope rescues, and putting her avalanche rescue dog, a golden retriever named Spicy Chili Pepper, through his paces.

“You’ve got to be in good physical and mental shape to be a patroller,” she said when we met atop Blackcomb Mountain in late December. “There are a lot of daily stresses on the mind and body. I lift weights; I have a strengthening program to prevent injuries to my knees and back. It’s important to stay fit just to feel better, plus I have way more energy to keep up with my super-active kids. Another reason I exercise is that as women approach menopause, fitness is crucial to maintaining good bones. We need to stay strong.”

Milley was quick to affirm Petersen’s message: don’t ski to get fit; get fit to ski.

Among her recommendations: before heading for the slopes, start with a few spinning, stretching, or swimming sessions. “A lot of people do yoga for core conditioning. I’m lucky. I train with Chili several hours a day, which keeps us both fit.”

Although adventure racer Jen Segger scoffs at the suggestion that she is the fittest woman in Canada, there’s no denying that the Squamish-based endurance athlete is driven by an urge to combine her natural athleticism with a passion for the outdoors.

Fresh from a morning surf, Segger spoke with me by phone from Tofino. When asked about her favourite way to stay fit, Segger said she enjoys a variety of body-challenging activities.

“Being active every day is a lifestyle, not a chore. The key to fitness is to find something you enjoy and keep doing it. I love adventure racing, and the drive to be a top athlete keeps me in shape.”

Segger’s definition of fitness is based on one’s ability to do things demanded of the body for a set amount of time.

“Once you’re fit, you can enjoy recreational activities without feeling like you’re going to have a heart attack.”

The secret to getting fit? Consistency.

“After you’ve pushed through the first weeks of training, things become easier as you develop the ability to recover quicker,” she said.

Segger draws a line between the level of fitness she has achieved as an athlete and the average person. “There are so many types of fitness out there. Try a variety of activities, but make sure you’re always challenging your body. Keep it fun and interesting, depending on the weather.”

West Coast wisdom dictates that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing.

Judging by the larger numbers of cyclists on city bike routes in winter, waterproof shells are the new umbrellas.

No matter how you choose to exercise, getting dressed and out the door are always the hardest steps.

The key is not feeling like you have to rough it while keeping fit. Life is rough enough already. Treat yourself to some quality clothing and reflective gear.

Too expensive? Look at it this way: wearing well-stitched, lightweight gear is motivation to stay in gear.

When you consider the alternative—anchoring the couch as indulgences wear you down—it’s an easy call.

Consider fitness an investment, like saving spare change. Put a little aside every day and watch it grow. Then splurge by treating yourself to a special outing once you’ve achieved a goal or two.

Need further incentive? Here’s a suggestion.

Try cycling out to YVR.

At first glance, the airport may seem like an odd destination.

In fact, once you’re across the new Canada Line Bridge that links Ash Street in south Vancouver with Richmond’s Bridgeport neighbourhood, the flatness of Lulu and Sea islands makes for a remarkably easy westward spin.

Check out the totem poles in Chester Arthur Park outside the international terminal building, then the dozens of art installations inside, drawn largely from First Nations communities.

If you arrive on a Friday afternoon, check out the Airport Chaplaincy Thrift Shop on nearby Miller Road, the repository of prohibited goods, such as knives and tools, confiscated during pre-boarding security checks and resold at bargain-basement prices for charity.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Ski touring seeks backcountry panoramas

ACCESS: Golden lies 713 kilometres east of Vancouver on Highway 1. For information on Kicking Horse Mountain Resort’s Dawn Patrol, call 1-866-754-5425. For information on Purcell Helicopter Skiing’s heli-ski touring program, visit or call 1-877-435-4754. To view Greg Hill’s exploits, visit greghill.ca/.There’s no sound like skis sliding across snow, according to Katie Campbell, a customer-service representative with Purcell Heli-skiing in Golden.

“Ski touring in the stillness of the outdoors in winter is meditative,” she said . ” I cherish the sound of my own breath and the crunch of snow. I’m prepared to walk uphill all day to earn my turns.”

Such sentiments help explain a growing trend among younger skiers in search of new ways to explore the white world.

Campbell remarked that potential ski tourers—including snowboarders equipped with split boards—should be at least moderately fit with intermediate- to high-level snow-sliding skills.

“Ski touring is a small-group activity—usually four or five at most—where you take on the challenge of learning how to move safely in the mountain environment.”

It helps that her home in the Columbia Valley is surrounded by range after range of Rocky and Purcell mountain peaks.

“Touring turns the typical concept of downhill skiing on its head. You’re not chasing any vertical record for descents in a day. It’s the experience of being out there that counts.”

As with any new activity, the question is where to start.

This season, both Purcell Heliskiing and its neighbour, Kicking Horse Mountain Resort, are rolling out innovative new ski-touring programs to meet the demand.

As Campbell pointed out, “Rogers Pass is getting crowded, if you can believe it.”

Although the historic pass in the heart of Glacier National Park, midway between Golden and Revelstoke, has a long-standing reputation for mountaineering, in recent years ski tourers such as Greg “Million-Foot Man” Hill have begun documenting their exploits on video and posting alluring accounts of the region on the Internet.

In turn, that publicity has fuelled a bonanza of interest in self-supported exploration of Glacier’s snow fields.

To do so is to share in a tradition established by Swiss guides who settled in Golden at the invitation of the Canadian Pacific Railway more than a century ago. Former Swiss national ski team racer Rudi Gertsch, who launched Purcell Helicopter Skiing in the 1970s, is one of the more recent arrivals.

A day of helicopter skiing is expensive. For example, Purcell Heli-skiing charges between $709 and $849 for three- or five-run packages.

Because heli-ski touring only requires one or two drop-offs and pickups, the cost is more affordable, varying from $375 to $550, though that doesn’t include equipment rental.

When cutting tracks through the dry, fluffy powder found in B.C.’s Interior, wider-than-average skis are a must. These help trekkers glide across rather than sink knee-deep in what locals, such as Kicking Horse’s mountain host, John Parry, refer to as “hero snow”.

On fat skis or a snowboard, the feeling is akin to floating in eiderdown.

When it comes to a resort with as much open terrain as Kicking Horse, and where conditions can easily change from blue skies to a whiteout, the most sensible approach is to team up with a knowledgeable local like Parry. Upon retirement five years ago, he and his wife moved west, from Quebec to Golden.

One look at the former phys ed teacher’s ruddy complexion confirms his claim of spending as much as a hundred days a year on snow.

Each morning, Parry gathers visitors around him in front of the resort’s Big Mountain Centre, gauges the group’s ability level, and then leads them onto the nearby gondola for a 20-minute ascent to the top of Dogtooth Ridge.

From that aerie, views stretch out across adjacent ranges stacked in rows like static waves. Ropes helpfully define the limits beyond which skiers and snowboarders venture at their peril.

One look at the vastness of the patrolled and avalanche-controlled terrain reveals enough in-bounds opportunities to satisfy all but the most vagabond spirits.

To see beyond the boundaries into an untracked wilderness rife with endless possibilities is to understand the allure of ski touring.

If would-be adventurers are undeterred by the potential dangers of exploring the backcountry on their own, guides at Kicking Horse have decided this season to offer courses in ski touring.

Over the span of a day’s outing, the Dawn Patrol program educates small groups in how to ski big mountains.

Specifically designed to teach first-time tourers how to cross steep terrain, training takes place in the expert-rated back bowls accessed from the top of the appropriately named Stairway to Heaven chair lift.

Thanks to a partnership with several ski and snowboard manufacturers, as part of the $449 group package, up to five participants are outfitted with the latest backcountry gear featuring reverse-camber technology, as well as the entire kit of avalanche bells and whistles, shovels and probes.

As informed and choosy as one might be in the backcountry, when it comes to assessing danger, there’s no way to eliminate the risk factor outright.

One can only manage the danger within acceptable limits, a fact worth keeping in mind constantly in the beckoning silence, whether you’re a newbie or a seasoned pro.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

South Langley Cyclists Stop for a Sip or Two

South Langley cyclists stop for a sip or two around Campbell Valley Regional Park

Seeking out new views of the Fraser River

Access: Ladner lies 30 kilometres/18 miles south and west of Vancouver in the Municipality of Delta.

To reach Ladner, drive Highway 99 to the south end of the George Massey Tunnel and take the first exit (#29) onto River Road or the next exit (#28) onto Highway 17 South, then turn right onto Ladner Trunk Road (48th Avenue) for the short drive into town. By taking the River Road exit, you approach Ladner on a back road rather than through the community’s newer neighbourhoods on Ladner Trunk.

For information on Kaymaran Adventure Tours, including tours and kayak and canoe rentals, as well as membership in the Ladner Paddling Club, call 604-946-7507 or 604-946-5070, check www.kaymarantours.com/, or stop by Ladner’s Elliott Street Wharf.

Imagine living beside one of the world’s most ecologically significant waterways, one that can be reached within minutes of home, waiting to be discovered anew with each passing season.

This dream attraction—the Fraser River—lies at our doorstep.

Without giving the 1,375-kilometre/825-mil-long river more than a passing thought—sure looks muddy—many Vancouverites  regularly cross the Fraser for work, pleasure, or both.

New approaches, such as TransLink’s Golden Ears Bridge between Langley and Maple Ridge/Pitt Meadows and the Canada Line crossing between Vancouver and Richmond, have just opened.

It’s time to reward yourself for the turmoil inflicted by Canada Line construction.

Head to the south end of Ash Street, where panoramic river views unfold along the heel- and wheel-friendly concourse.

Behold the Fraser’s North Arm.

Given the changes that occurred around False Creek after Vancouver hosted Expo 86, ponder what this soon-to-be redeveloped stretch of shoreline will look like decades from now.

Large tracts of land where industrial activities once held sway currently lie vacant. Suddenly this stretch of the river is approachable again.

By far the most intimate manner in which to get acquainted with the Fraser is floating on its surface.

Only those aboard a motorized vessel should trifle with the strong tidal currents in the North and South Arms, though.

On the other hand, a kayak or canoe is the ideal craft in which to discover the superb natural beauty of the Fraser estuary around Ladner, where a group of low-slung, thickly vegetated islands beckon offshore.

With its tranquil, historic waterfront augmented by a fleet of eclectic float homes, Ladner shows how life was once lived in dozens of small river communities along the Fraser’s last leg to the ocean.

Tony Dales runs Kaymaran Adventure Tours on Ladner’s Elliot Street public dock.

Thanks to local volunteers who participated in “Operation Shoreline Cleanup” this summer, the long-time resident says the harbour looks better than it has in years.

From his watercraft rental office, Dales proudly describes how decrepit boats, half-sunken float homes, and mounds of marine debris were hauled away in order to beautify adjacent Ladner Harbour Park’s surroundings.

Clearly delighted by the sight of salmon leaping beside his dock as the fall run of pinks begins returning to the Fraser in their millions, Dales was equally thrilled by the impending winged migration that during the next two months will see millions of birds pass through the Fraser Estuary, one of the most important rest and feeding stops on the Pacific flyway.

Every autumn, a new group of kayakers is drawn to witness this natural abundance.

Dales notes the number of families that have recently signed on for a first-time paddle.

By far the biggest segment of his business comes from women in their 40s to late 60s, an age range that accounts for 80 percent of all new sea kayakers in North America.

Dales describes this cohort as having the time, money, and guts, and gumption to get out on the water.

Why do women, in particular, take to paddling?

At first blush, the sport offers the pleasure of a quiet atmosphere plus an opportunity to get back to nature.

But after women join the Kaymaran-affiliated Ladner Paddling Club for an outing or two, Dales has noticed, their perspective changes.

Sea-kayaking becomes even cooler because of its self-powered simplicity that can be mastered independently or with other like-minded adventurers on the river.

At the same time as Vancouverites take pride in living beside this great natural attraction, the Fraser has consistently ranked at or near the top of the annual Outdoor Recreation Council of B.C.’s most-endangered rivers list.

In 1980, the council orchestrated the first B.C. Rivers Day. Thanks in large part to the lobbying efforts of Burnaby’s Mark Angelo, the September celebration evolved into World Rivers Day in 2005.

Prior to this year’s events, Angelo spoke from his office at BCIT’s fish, wildlife, and recreation program.

He lauded the Ladner harbour facelift both for its positive results and for the tangible community benefit of bringing people together.

Angelo’s words echo the sentiment of all who discover this corner of the Fraser.

The estuary is a magical place.

Once you’ve spent time exploring there, you’ll better appreciate the value of where we live, which, in turn, makes life in Vancouver special.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Discover Garibaldi Provincial Park’s charms

Access: The well-marked Garibaldi Lake–Black Tusk trailhead lies 100 kilometres north of Vancouver, just east of Highway 99. For a detailed description of the Garibaldi Lake-Black Tusk area, pick up a copy of my Whistler Book.

Current conditions in Garibaldi Provincial Park are posted at www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/garibaldi.

A good perspective on the current state of B.C. Parks is posted at www.friendsofstrathcona.wordpress.com/park-funding.

Care to take a hike in the footsteps of pioneers? Follow the trail to Garibaldi Lake and the Black Tusk north of Squamish and you’ll be doing just that.

A decade or more before the creation of Garibaldi Provincial Park in the 1920s, climbers from Vancouver’s fledgling B.C. Mountaineering Club were already clearing a route to the glacier-fed, turquoise-hued lake and sombre volcanic pillar, one of the most iconic natural features in the Sea to Sky corridor.

With the exception of Stawamus Chief Mountain, no other rock formation in the surrounding fortress of coastal peaks is as noticeable or so readily identifiable in a region that’s a living lesson in geological history.

If that isn’t inducement enough, consider that in autumn the colour of Garibaldi Lake is at the apex of its intensity.

Garibaldi Lake is often compared to Lake Louise for its splendour. Vicki Haberl, planner for B.C. Parks’ Lower Mainland regional office in Squamish, agrees with the comparison.

However, Haberl feels that Garibaldi appears even better than its Alberta counterpart because visitors have to earn the view by first undertaking a nine-kilometre (5 mile), three-hour hike to reach its subalpine shore rather than simply walk a short distance from a parking lot, as is the case with Banff National Park’s centrepiece.

During the ascent to the lake, one of the most arresting sights is the Barrier, an enormous lava-flow dam that blocked the valley to originally form the lake.

In the mid-1800s, a large portion of its red rock face calved off.

Remnants of the avalanche are easily spotted along the banks of aptly named Rubble Creek, which vents from the base of the Barrier, and in the debris fan on both sides of the Cheakamus River.

For the best perspective, pause at the six-kilometre viewpoint. Rocks dislodged from the sheer wall continually tumble down into Rubble’s percolating white water below.

Garibaldi Lake Trail is surprisingly smooth and welcoming, unlike other rocks-and-roots paths, such as the Helm Creek Trail, an alternate approach to the lake from the Whistler side.

Thanks to crews of hydrologists dispatched to the lake in the 1930s to investigate the energy-generating potential of the region, accompanied by wagonloads of summer hikers, today’s trail covers much the same gently switchbacked path.

Just as then, hikers are advised to carry emergency supplies to cope with ever-changing conditions in the backcountry. B.C. Parks still provides outhouses at Garibaldi Lake, but the Environment Ministry’s latest budget afforded no funds for toilet paper, so hikers must bring their own.

In 2002, Victoria instituted pay parking in provincial parks. Given the current deficit, pay toilets may be next.

In many ways, the summer of 2009 has been particularly taxing for B.C. Parks’ staff.

Among the new duties assigned the remaining three rangers who supervise Garibaldi Park’s massive 1,946-square-kilometre range is backpacking in maintenance equipment.

Due to cutbacks, annual helicopter supply flights were cancelled.

Staff visits to the park have been so fleeting that B.C. Parks didn’t bother opening the lake’s ranger cabin, part of a nest of shelters that housed youth work crews several decades ago.

Whistler-based photographer Paul Morrison, whose wife, Gail, cooked for the 25-member crews in the late 1970s and early 1980s, recalls that trail-building and maintenance once went on full-time in the summer.

The Morrisons, who annually camp at the lake, find that in recent years their pet peeve is that no day-to-day maintenance is done on the entire Garibaldi Lake Trail, just patchwork repairs where needed.

This is a surprising situation, given that every day hundreds of visitors hike the trail.

Indeed, Garibaldi Lake’s three campgrounds overflow on weekends between May and October with outdoor buffs drawn from the Lower Mainland, Europe, and Australasia.

At times, foot traffic to and from the lake is so busy it rivals vehicle congestion on nearby Highway 99.

Both the Morrisons and Haberl agree that Garibaldi Lake draws a crowd because of its predictable access coupled with majestic scenery.

Whether you sport a light backpack for a day’s visit, come more heavily laden to camp, or spiral around the Black Tusk in a paraglider, as some intrepid people do, the view of the lake from Panorama Ridge is a wonder to behold.

In the same breath, Paul Morrison can hardly find words to say how disgusted he is  to see a natural treasure being run into the ground.

Although Haberl asserts that Garibaldi is one park where the rules are more stringent, such as no dogs or campfires, she does admit that enforcement is problematic with so few staff.

From former ranger Dominique Monnier’s perspective, the best time to visit Garibaldi Lake is before snowflakes begin to fly at higher elevations.

A self-described “dirt-bag climber”, Monnier’s summer work finances her mountaineering exploits the remainder of the year.

As she leans on a shovel in the silence, the voice of a creek below Sphinx Glacier on the wide lake’s far shore can be heard.

Her recommendation: set aside three days to ski or snowshoe the route between the Elfin Lakes hut in the park’s Diamond Head region and the Garibaldi Lake campground in late winter or early spring.

Like charity, that’s when snow can be counted on to cover up a multitude of sins.

Just don’t forget your toilet paper.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Chilliwack lakes call out for summer hikers

There’s no better time to visit the south Fraser Valley than right now. Corn fields surround roadside stands stocked with freshly picked cobs. Just as prized are picnicking and angling sites sprinkled along the Chilliwack River Valley, as well as shaded trails on the slopes above the river’s headwaters in Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park. While river access comes easily at numerous roadside pullouts, you’ll need to expend more energy to reap the benefits offered by hiking routes such as the popular Lindeman–Greendrop Lakes Trail. One of the rewards will be an enhanced appetite for those juicy niblets; another prize will be the entrancing sight of sunlight sparkling on the surface of the two lakes towered over by craggy North Cascades peaks.

Beside the trail’s outset, lively Post Creek froths its way down the mountainside from high above, carrying a gentle breeze that helps keep biting insects at bay. Columns of old-growth Douglas fir line the way. In less than an hour, you’ll find yourself beside Lindeman, possibly the most beautiful subalpine lake on offer in the Lower Mainland. Clear green at the shoreline, its chilly waters deepen from a lighter blue to indigo when viewed from the trail. If you plan to journey on to Greendrop, save a swim here for the return journey.

Picking your way around Lindeman’s north side requires some tricky boulder hopping. Not only will shoes with good ankle support spare you the misfortune of twisting or wedging a foot in the scree, they’ll also afford you the benefit of improving your balancing skills. Thankfully, staircases and boardwalks assist hikers around the steepest section of the trail by this lake. From there, the well-marked trail to Greendrop passes knee-high wild gooseberry bushes and delicate mountain orchids as it wends through a narrow forested valley interspersed with open sections of scree. With the exception of the occasional whirring hummingbird, the air is thick with a rich stillness rarely experienced in everyday life.

As you near Greendrop Lake, a sign posted at a fork in the trail offers two approaches, either across a wooden bridge on a section marked “Trans Canada Trail” or beside a small stream that occasionally fans out across the forest floor. Regardless of which route you choose, orange metal markers affixed to tree trunks helpfully guide the way. While Lindeman Lake has a lock on looks, Greendrop’s special feature is the spectacular size of the western red cedar grove that surmounts its waterfront. Although a trail marker beside Greendrop’s wilderness campsite indicates that the Centennial Trail leads east from there into the Skagit Valley, attempts to find the faded route will prove futile for all but the hardiest of bushwhackers.

Intrigued by the presence of the Trans Canada Trail sign in an area that isn’t part of the trail’s B.C. route, I called Léon Lebrun, vice president of Trails B.C. Lebrun said he had no idea who had marked it as such. “We do have some very interesting sections of trail along the Chilliwack River Valley, particularly from several kilometres before the Thurston Meadows campsite to Chilliwack Lake—a wonderful hike, really.” Lebrun also noted that the three-kilometre Tolmie Trail between Little Tamahi and Tamahi was “an absolutely beautiful section of the Trans Canada Trail. It’s a good hike, but ATVs have ruined it for cyclists.”

On the subject of all-terrain vehicles—commonly called quads—and the degradation that motorized users have caused on other sections of the Trans Canada Trail such as the Kettle Valley Trail, Lebrun said it was up to the provincial government to address the problem.

“B.C. is the only jurisdiction in North America that doesn’t license and register such vehicles. The ministry of culture, tourism and the arts [under whose aegis the trail falls] doesn’t see this as any kind of priority,” said the retired teacher and inveterate hiker. “In the meantime, ATVs are wrecking everything in the backcountry. A lot of us are starting to despair. Personally, I think this could be the demise of the Trans Canada Trail on a grand scale, as by far the biggest users of the trail are cyclists, who are being forced onto the roads.”

Lebrun pointed to Quebec and Prince Edward Island as having successfully dealt with the motorized blight. “Only in Quebec have they separated the two groups. I cycled 130 kilometres in one day alone during a 1,200-kilometre cross-province ride. As someone about to turn 70, that gives you an idea of how good it [the route] was, including lots of inns and pubs along the way. People have to be aware of the consequences,” he said ominously, “and the consequence can be quite severe.”

Chew on that as you dig into some fresh corn.

Access: Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park lies 150 kilometres southeast of Vancouver. Travel east along Highway 1 to the Chilliwack Lake–Cultus Lake exit (number 104), then head southeast on No. 3 Road through the community of Yarrow. Go east along Vedder Mountain Road. Just over the Vedder Bridge, turn south (right) onto Chilliwack Lake Road at a well-marked intersection. Drive 42 kilometres to the park. It’s an easy two-hour drive from Vancouver. Lindeman Lake is 3.4 kilometres return; Greendrop Lake is 10.4 kilometres return. Details are at www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/chilliwack_lk/. For information on the Trans Canada Trail, see www.trailsbc.ca/.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

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