Backpackers on a scramble up Downtown Creek have an idyllic campsite to use as a base camp for higher exploration.

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

2010 UPDATE: On August 6, 2010, a massive avalanche on Capricorn Creek, the second-largest such natural event in Canadian history, swept down into Meager Creek and pushed its way along into a portion of  the Lillooet River.

Road access into the hot springs, the Lillooet River campground, and Upper Lillooet Provincial Park, is now completely cut off and seems  likely to remain so for the foreseeable future.

A selection of photos of the devestation around Mt Meager and Meager Creek is posted at http://www.flickr.com/photos/dbsteers/with/4869549959/ To read the photographer’s account, visit  thetyee.ca/News/2010/08/12/MeagerLandslide/

Note: The Lillooet River Forest Road is closed at kilometre 9.

Pemberton’s  Slow Food Cycle on Sunday, August 15, is scheduled to go ahead as planned. Visit for www.slowfoodcyclesunday.com for details.

2009 ALERT: During heavy rains on Sept 18 + 19, 2009, a mud-and-debris slide washed out the Capricorn Creek Bridge and covered the Meager Creek/Lillooet Forest Service Road three kilometres downstream from Meager Creek Hot Springs. The mud is waist deep in some areas and some of the large boulders that came down with the slide could shift due to slope instability. The Sea to Sky Recreation District says the bridge will liely be replaced in spring, 2010

2008

When you’re looking for a little sanctuary, a wilderness hot spring does it every time. And there’s nothing like bathing in the most geologically active corner of Canada to up the adventure ante.

Such is the case at Meager Creek, where raincoast weather often adds even more frisson to the hot springs north of Pemberton. In October 2003, heavy rains triggered massive flooding in the Pemberton Valley. Fed by swollen tributaries such as Meager Creek, the Lillooet River, which charts a crooked course through the heart of the valley, jumped its banks. From the air, the scene looked more like the Gulf Islands than prime agricultural land.

The force of rapidly flowing water overwhelmed a 70-metre-long wooden bridge that spanned Meager Creek, cutting off road access to the hot springs located a short distance upstream on the west side of the creek. Thanks to an injection of $900,000 from the Provincial Emergency Program, which covers damage to high-value recreation sites such as the hot springs, a new steel-and-concrete structure was eventually installed. On August 1, the Meager Creek hot springs officially reopened, to the acclaim of local residents and Pemberton tourism officials alike.

In early September, I visited the springs to assess changes in the frequently volatile region. The bridge washout was only the most recent in a long history of cataclysmic events there that stretches back to 400 BC, the date of Mount Meager’s most recent volcanic eruption. That earth-shattering episode spewed ash as far as the Alberta-Saskatchewan border. An inventory of similar incidents includes an avalanche on Mount Meager’s companion, Pylon Peak, that covered a glacier over which Pylon Creek continues to bubble. Nearby stands the jagged remnant of another volcano, Devastator Peak. In 1975, a substantial rockslide on Devastator buried a party of geologists and partly blocked the flow of Meager Creek. The creek’s waters backed up, creating a small lake that took several years to drain. Geologists predict that a resumption of volcanic activity is likely to occur within the next several centuries. With these events in mind, sobering roadside markers were just installed along the Meager Creek Forestry Road. They direct travelers to refuge areas in case of emergency.

The sweeping grandeur of the peaks is enough to momentarily take a visitor’s mind off the prospect of suddenly finding oneself in the midst of chaos. The upside of all this geothermal activity is the presence of B.C.’s hottest and most voluminous hot springs, which percolate on an open terrace above Meager Creek’s silt-grey waters.

“Creek” doesn’t do justice to Meager. Even at its lowest annual level, this is not a stream to be trifled with. Still, as you soak beside it in a near-scalding thermal pool with the wild sounds of cascading white water in your ears, there’s no more relaxing place to be. Just ask Dave Edgington, chief administrative officer of the Squamish-Lillooet Regional District. On the telephone from his office in Pemberton, Edgington said that having bathed in the springs himself, he believes there is no finer restorative, holistic experience to be found within the SLRD’s purview. He was quick to credit not only financing from PEP for the restoration but also the Ministry of Forests crews who rebuilt the bridge, as well as funds from the Ministry of Tourism, Culture and the Arts that paid for a complete cleanup of the pools, change house, and pathways at the recreation site.

Although the hot springs are situated on provincial land, the site and nearby campground are managed by the local Lil’wat Nation, with the Lil’wat Business Corporation’s Creekside Resources in partnership with the Tourism Ministry. When contacted by telephone at his office in Mount Currie, the corporation’s general manager, Larry Miller, said that work crews spent months rehabbing the site prior to its reopening. “We cleared blow-downs and installed picnic tables as well as put in culverts and ditches to prevent Hot Springs Creek from undermining the access trail.”

Creekside Resources, which manages a network of recreation sites within Lil’wat traditional territory, has no elaborate plans to develop the hot springs beyond their current “rustic” status, but Miller hopes that a series of interpretive signs will be installed next year to explain the site’s geological and cultural history. “The Lil’wat have millennia of legends about the use of the springs, from poaching fish in the hot water to revering the springs for their natural healing qualities. We look after the place to demonstrate our ownership.”

Over the decades since a road to Meager Creek was built by B.C. Hydro in pursuit of geothermal-power production, the springs have been a magnet for both families and party animals. To preserve the peace and ensure that yahoos and dogs are kept away from the springs, a Creekside Resources caretaker monitors activity, including weather conditions, at the site. With good reason, “if in doubt, bail out” is the operative motto there.

Access: The Meager Creek hot springs lie 205 kilometres north of Vancouver via 52 kilometres of paved and gravel roads from Pemberton. Opening hours are 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. A day-use fee of $5 is collected at the springs from those 12 or older; a night at the pleasant campground on the Lillooet River Forestry Road is $10 per site. The hot springs officially close for the season on October 31. From then until snowfall shuts the Lillooet River Road, access to the springs is on foot or by bike from the gated entrance to the Meager Creek road, seven kilometres west.

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Text CR Jack Christie

Photo CR Louise Christie

View Original Article here.

One of the rewards of staying at the 'Ksan Campground in Hazelton is touring the adjacent historical village and museum.

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

In Deep Cove, Rachel Greenwood takes out her standup paddleboard, which is longer than most surfboards, but easier to ride.

There seems to be a special bond between humans and shaped wooden boards, one that over the past century has evolved to rival that of people and pets.

First came skis and surfboards, followed by skate, skim, and windsurfing boards, and, more recently, snow and wakeboards.

Riding the latest wave are standup paddleboards, or SUPs, poised to break big this summer thanks to a growing fan base.

One of Vancouver’s first SUP proponents was adventure athlete “Super” Dave Norona.

North Shore-based Norona, who, by his own account, has participated in over 400 adventure races, became interested in SUPs after his passion waned for surf skis—sleek, open-cockpit racing kayaks.

“I got a little burned-out on racing in general,” the professional motivational speaker admitted.

“The thing I like about SUPs is that you can only go about five to six kilometres an hour, which means that when I’m in an event like MEC’s Big Chop [Summer Paddle Series], I’m always at the back of the pack with the fun people instead of out front thinking, ‘I can’t let him beat me!’ ”

If you’ve ever seen a vintage photograph of wooden Hawaiian surfboards that tower over the likes of Duke Kahanamoku, the father of modern surfing, it won’t be a stretch to wrap your mind around the size and shape of an SUP.

Wider and longer than most surfboards in vogue today, they allow a rider to balance upright while propelling the board forward with a long-shafted paddle.

Norona pointed out that the best part is that SUPs are far easier to master than regular surfboards.

“You catch every wave, and because the board is longer, you catch them earlier. Using a paddle to move forward is also much easier on the arms, which is otherwise so hard when you’re just starting to learn to surf.”

Norona highlighted the sport’s secret: “The reality is that you don’t have to be fit at all. It’s like being in a double sea kayak without knowing what to do. SUPs are like the cruiser bikes of boards. The more you do, the fitter you get.”

One sign that SUPs are stoking interest at local beaches is the appearance of locally made boards.

In the past year, Pemberton-based Andy Lambrecht and his gleaming wooden boards have been featured nationally in outdoors magazines.

When reached at his studio beside the Lillooet River, Lambrecht was at work on one of the half-dozen boards he shapes each year, which sell for $2,000 and up.

“I started making fibreglass surfboards seven years ago, but in 2007 I stopped doing foam because it’s so toxic,” he said.

“Besides, once a plastic board is done, it’s done. There’s no recycling them. I love the green aspect of wood. One of my boards will last 10 to 20 years, whereas in the same time pattern four or five foam boards would get tossed into the landfill.”

Lambrecht, who works full-time for Whistler Blackcomb as a carpenter in summer and a ski patroller in winter, switched to making smaller, hollow wooden surfboards.

“They’re a third heavier than foam,” he explained. “I use recycled wood from unusual sources, so they already come with a story.”

Last year, he crafted a four-metre, hollow red-cedar SUP for professional guide Norm Hann, who paddled the waters off the Central Coast’s Great Bear Rainforest to test the feasibility of multiday SUP tours in the Hartley Bay region.

In May, in an expedition dubbed StandUp4GreatBear, Hann piloted an SUP 380 kilometres between Kitimat and Bella Bella to raise awareness of the potential risk to the Central Coast’s delicate ecosystem from oil tanker traffic from Kitimat, designated as the terminal for energy giant Enbridge’s proposed Northern Gateway pipeline linked to the Alberta tar sands.

On the phone from the office of his Squamish-based expedition company, MountainSurf Adventures, Hann said he’s enjoyed surfing since coming to the West Coast in 1999 from Sudbury, Ontario.

“I saw Hawaiian surfer Laird Hamilton on an SUP and I knew right away I wanted to get one, though I had a tough time finding a board,” he recalled.

“I rented one from a guy on the North Shore, and after the first outing I begged him to sell it to me. The potential of the sport is clear to me. I’m excited about what you can do and where you can go in a different way.”

Hann foresees exploring inland lakes and rivers on SUPs having more nationwide appeal than surfing.

“It’s got the coolness of the surf industry coupled with paddling, which is in Canadians’ blood.”

With the likes of Norona and Hahn as the apostles of SUP, this summer Vancouver-based water sport companies Windsure, EcoMarine Kayaks, and the Deep Cove Canoe and Kayak Centre are set to minister to novitiates by offering lessons and rentals at their respective locations at the Jericho Sailing Centre, English Bay, and Deep Cove.

Four years ago, Jeff Hunt, manager of EcoMarine Kayak’s SUP program, brought one back from Hawaii.

“I tried to convince the owner to offer rentals last year but he was tentative as to how it would take shape. This year we’re in.”

As a longtime board rider, Hunt finds paddling an SUP a good way to stay in surfer shape.

“I come from a competitive gymnastics background, so now I look for any tool to keep me out of the gym. I like to change things up to avoid lifting weights. Once people try an SUP it becomes another great way to get out on the water, appreciate the natural environment, and become an advocate for causes such as the Dogwood Initiative which our company supports.”

There seems to be a growing connection between SUPs and expanded environmental consciousness.

Not only is this the dawn of a new sport, it’s yet another way to save the planet.

Hop on.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Shannon Nolan peers into the Cheakamus Canyon from Rocky Mountaineer's open-air carriage.

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

Powell River Sea Kayak guides Joel Baillargeon and Marianne Lafrance paddle Malaspina Strait.

You’ll find plenty of information on the Sunshine Coast in our best-selling guide book 52 Best Weekend Getaways from Vancouver.

Check out this article to see why heading there this month is a good idea before the summer holiday rush.

Access: Egmont lies 75 kilometres north of the Langdale ferry terminal on Highway 101 via Sechelt. For information on kayaking at West Coast Wilderness Lodge, call 1-877-988-3838 or visit www.wcwl.com/. Okeover Arm lies 48 kilometres north of Egmont near Lund on Highway 101 via a 50-minute ferry ride between Earls Cove and Saltery Bay. To contact Powell River Sea Kayak, call 1-604-483-2160 or visit www.bcseakayak.com/. Detailed information on transportation, accommodation, and recreation on the Sunshine Coast is posted at www.hellobc.com/.

Late spring is imbued with the expectancy of summer’s imminent appearance.

Nowhere can you experience that more keenly than in a sea kayak on the Sunshine Coast.

Mountains and sunlight reflect off the ocean in flashes of chrome as you drift along.

Beneath the surface, clarity reigns.

An orange sea urchin looks close enough to touch.

In truth, the globe of spines sits a paddle length below.

Reach down and your kayak will roll just enough to momentarily seem about to tip.

Pull back as you snap out of a spell cast by the scene’s overpowering magic.

Although the Sunshine Coast is visible from Vancouver’s western beaches, the Sechelt and Malaspina peninsulas, which dominate this semi-isolated stretch of the Lower Mainland, seem a world apart.

No need to pack a passport. All that’s required to experience the tangible essence of this rarefied cosmos is the will to travel an hour or so beyond your back yard.

How hard is that, especially when the rewards are guaranteed to send you home with a whole new peace of mind?

Before you begin to think that you’ll somehow have to rough it to achieve this sense of release, consider this: life is challenging enough when you’re coping with the pressures of urban living.

As soon as you disembark on the Sunshine Coast, you’ll sense a soothing difference.

There’s more room to breathe—not just between you and others with whom you share the road but in the whole realm of nature that spreads before you.

Take your time.

With the Coast Mountains rising sharply from the shoreline, the inclination here is not so much to explore vertically but to put out to sea in a small watercraft and explore the sheltered bays and inlets.

No boat? No experience?

With plenty of local outfitters and guides, sourcing equipment and directions is hardly an issue.

When reached by phone at his company’s sea-kayak base on Okeover Arm near Powell River, Vallance was buzzing about a recent appearance by several orcas.

“Even though historically orcas used to feed here on salmon before local rivers were dammed for hydroelectric generation, this is the first time in the 16 years I’ve been here that I recall them visiting. That stirs up optimism in me.”

In that same vein, Hansen reported that paddlers around Egmont have been sharing space with hundreds of surf scoters—large, black sea ducks given to ululating while struggling to get airborne—as well as inquisitive minke whales that enjoy people-watching just as much as the seafarers are bent on nature observation.

A distinguishing feature of the inland waters around small ports like  Okeover Arm is the abiding sense of tranquillity.

At this time of year, few sailboats or yachts appear.

Come summer, all that changes, particularly around Okeover Arm, which opens onto Desolation Sound.

As Vallance pointed out, the sound is one of the Sunshine Coast’s more popular destinations for fair-weather sailors.

“For starters, Desolation’s got a great name and warm water, which is rather special. Plus, it’s got the best intertidal marine life on the coast. Based on their experiences from around the world, our guides tell us there are some unique things going on here, which is why they’ve dubbed our day trips the ‘famous aquarium tour’.

Desolation is sheltered by towering Coast Mountains,” he continued, “and dotted with islands and islets. There are no strong currents. This creates what people are seeking in a kayak tour.”

Extreme currents are one of the chief attractions for visitors to Egmont.

Except at slack tide, the mighty Skookumchuck Narrows at the entrance to Sechelt Inlet south of the small village offers a playground for experienced kayak paddlers who pull stunts in their stubby play boats on the roiling white water within sight of those who journey to viewing spots on foot.

Currents of a decidedly less threatening nature characterize the waters around Paul Hansen’s West Coast Wilderness Lodge in Egmont.

“Compared to the Strait of Georgia that can be choppy, the waters offshore from us are always flat calm. You never feel like you’re in big, open water with winds pushing you around.”

As well, Hansen pointed out that in a kayak you’re not sitting as high above the water as in a canoe. “When it comes to paddling, canoeing is an art, kayaking a joy.”

Whether you’ve sea kayaked before or not, now is the time to spring to it.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Animal husbandry volunteer Cecily Joseph introduces visitors to members of the barnyard family at Kilby Historic Site’s Waterloo Farm in Harrison Mills, where time stands still.

Here’s a great Fraser Valley day trip suggestion for families with young children. For more informationon Kilby and nearby Harrison Hot Springs, check our guide “52 Best Day Trips from Vancouver”

ACCESS: Harrison Mills lies 120 kilometres east of Vancouver in the North Fraser Valley. The quickest approach is via Highway 1 east of Chilliwack. Take Exit 135 and head north on Highway 9 as it crosses the Fraser River and through farmland around Agassiz, and then go west on Highway 7. A slightly longer way is by taking Highway 7 (Lougheed Highway) starting in Pitt Meadows all the way to Harrison Mills. Details on the historic site, as well as information on special events can be found at www.kilby.ca/.

For information on Kilby Provincial Park, visit www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/kilby/.

To find out about circle farm tours in the Fraser Valley, visit www.circlefarmtour.com/.

As daffodils and tulips fade in the fields surrounding the North Fraser Valley hamlets of Agassiz and Harrison Mills, blossoming orchards take their turn, carpeting the side roads in a blizzard of pink and white petals.

Of particular significance is a Gravenstein apple tree planted in 1926, the oldest of its kind in the region. The tree stands propped up in all its gnarled glory beside the equally venerable Kilby General Store.

In rhythm with the vernal season, the gates at the Kilby Historic Site on the banks of the Harrison River have swung open once again for the summer, offering a window on both the valley’s past and, thanks to spring’s vibrant renewal, an incipient future as lively as a newborn lamb.

As it has for the past three decades since being acquired by the province from the Kilby family, who set up shop in Harrison Mills in 1904, the historic site hums with life thanks in large part to the commitment of local volunteers from the Fraser Heritage Society.

For fruit-pie lovers, chef Vera Point of the local Chehalis First Nation is back at the helm of her kitchen in the Orientation Barn’s Harrison River Restaurant, where the smell of fresh-baked goods wafts out the windows of the former stable and into the grassy area that surrounds the imposing heritage store and former hotel complex. The restaurant is housed in a reconstruction of a wood-planked barn that was raised in 1917 alongside the Kilby General Store.

Long before the construction of a dike system sturdy enough to hold back the waters of the Fraser River, whose confluence with the Harrison lies a short distance downstream, the Kilbys wisely mounted their two-storey enterprise on pilings high above the floodplain.

Nothing else akin to its quaint grandeur remains from the glory days when, in the wake of the Cariboo gold rush and the advent of the transcontinental railway, sawmills sprang up at riverfronts like Harrison Mills and spurred settlement in the valley.

For over 70 years, goods from the Kilby General Store’s well-stocked shelves filled shopping baskets, while rooms in the Manchester House Hotel housed workers.

These days, day-trippers journey to Harrison Mills and the nearby farming centre of Agassiz for recreation at Kilby Provincial Park and to go on a self-guided circle farm tour of the region in search of locally created crafts and artisan produce. Much of this is on sale in the Orientation Barn’s Waterloo Farm Gift Shop.

That’s where we talked to Jo-Anne Leon, the historic site’s sales and marketing manager.

“There are all sorts of unique holes-in-the-wall around Agassiz where we source everything on display here, including a whole range of farm-fresh products, which Vera and her staff use to bake from scratch,” Leon said. “Visitors to Kilby are inspired by a way of life from the past that we’re moving away from. It represents values and traditions of a day gone by that people feel good about and like to be reminded of, a history that’s still close but which represents a totally different way of living than today—a slower lifestyle.”

One arrival this spring is a crossbred Dorper–St. Croix sheep named Benji, a red-ribbon winner at the Agassiz Fall Fair whose owner donated him to the Waterloo Farm component of Kilby Historic Site’s array of attractions.

Animal husbandry volunteer Cecily Joseph is in charge of a menagerie that includes potbellied pigs, Shetland ewes, a billy goat, and a cocky rooster.

“Last winter’s cold snap was really hard on a lot of the animals,” she said while hand-feeding a bronze turkey named Beau. “His partner, Buttons, didn’t survive.”

Joseph, who lives near Harrison Mills on the Chehalis Indian Reserve, is studying early childhood education at the University of the Fraser Valley.

“With the potential demise of the Stanley Park petting zoo, my goal is to open an animal education centre for kids at Kilby that will eventually be enlarged to include ponies.”

Pack a picnic and head out to the North Fraser Valley.

If you’ve got a canoe or a kayak, bring it along as well, and don’t forget the binoculars.

Not only does the Kilby Historic Site offer an attractive place to enjoy a fresh-air outing, the nearby provincial park on the shore of Harrison Bay does as well.

A sandy beach beckons windsurfers, while a boat launch provides the opportunity to paddle as bald eagles and the occasional breaching white sturgeon soar above the surface.

Time stands as motionless as a blue heron.

Thoughts of yesteryear float on the breeze as the Kilby family legacy lives on. -

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Here’s one of our favourite destinations for a spring day trip

Matsqui Trail Regional Park lies 40 kilometres east of Vancouver. Take Highway 1 to Abbotsford, then Highway 11 north toward Mission. Watch for the green Metro Vancouver Parks signs that point the way to the park, the main entrance for which lies beneath the south end of the Mission Bridge on Riverside Road. For information, visit www.metrovancouver.org/Pages/default.aspx and search Matsqui Trail.Have you ever stopped and shivered just because you were looking at a river?

The Fraser River makes that kind of impression on people such as Doug Petersen, park-operations supervisor of Matsqui Trail Regional Park in Abbotsford. On the phone from Metro Vancouver Parks’ East Area office, Petersen explained that exploring the Fraser between Yale and Fort Langley has been one of his paddling passions.

“Do it in bite-sized pieces,” he counselled, “probably spread over three days, with stops in Hope, Agassiz, and Brae Island. It’s not for novice flat-water paddlers. The river has strong eddy lines that can easily catch up a canoe.”

The thought of being caught in the grasp of a river as mighty as the Fraser is enough to make anyone’s adrenal glands flutter.

Conversely, walking, wheeling, or horseback-riding beside the river as the spring season freshens is enough to arouse shivers of delight in the dourest of souls.

Spring has a way of doing that, especially when you detect its scent on the wind where the Fraser Valley begins to widen and flatten around Abbotsford. This month, breezes bear a decidedly floral fragrance as they waft down from the daffodil fields surrounding nearby Bradner, a welcome counterpoint to the odours from local farmyards.

European settlers on both sides of the Fraser used to tremble when the river began to rise. High-water markers at the Dyke Crest Gauge mounted beside Matsqui’s main trailhead illustrate the heights that flood waters reached over the past two centuries, including the record eight-metre mark in 1894, as well as lesser inundations in 1948 and 1972, and, most recently, in 1999, all of which prompted refortification of the dike system. As you explore the main trail, look down to see evidence of modest, earlier levee-building endeavours that predate the existing barricade.

When queried about an extension to the riverside trail below the dike, Petersen explained that Metro Parks had acquired more access to the Fraser, thanks to a land purchase. Finishing touches have just been applied to the one-kilometre trail that links with the main route to form a loop. In particular, parents of young children will appreciate the improved path, as it provides easy access to sandy stretches of the riverbank, where kids can toddle or practise their casting. Cyclists will also welcome the new riverside stretch, especially on breezy days when the dike trail acts as a windbreak.

Matsqui Trail appears deceptively short, but there’s more here than meets the eye. Decide at the outset how much of its 14-kilometre length you’re game to tackle.

The park’s main jumping-off point beside the Mission Bridge lies midway between the Fraser Valley Regional District’s Sumas Mountain Park to the east and the City of Abbotsford’s Douglas Taylor Park on the western perimeter. There are advantages to exploring in either direction.

Petersen’s favourite portion is a 4.5-kilometre wilderness corridor that leads west from rolling farmland through Matsqui First Nation territory into a forested setting above the river before dropping down into a marshy area bisected by a small creek.

“This is a spectacular transition with a little bit of everything,” he enthused, “created during an expansion done in 2000. Do this section on one visit; next time, head east to Page Road at the foot of Sumas Mountain. As a benefit to runners, we put up kilometre markers along the way.”

Petersen has witnessed sturgeon breach a metre above water offshore of the trail’s eastern extremity, where the Fraser bends around Strawberry Island and a sense of wild, natural rhythms governs the landscape.

“Depending on the time of year, there are snow geese in the fields and eagles in the cottonwoods. There are lots of First Nations connections along this stretch for traditional fishing rights as well.”

A plaque affixed to Matsqui Trail’s info board acknowledges the influence of the Fraser Basin Council on shaping the park’s current identity.

Bob Purdy, external relations and corporate development director with the Vancouver-based council, pointed to a report his group published in 2000 that detailed how park planners, Matsqui First Nation members, and a myriad of local citizens’ groups began the process of creating a greenway beside the Fraser from Sumas Mountain to Fort Langley.

“Valley bottoms are where 85 percent of species live,” Purdy said. “You build environmental resiliency by creating connections. You minimize fragmentation by maximizing the ‘connectiveness’ of green fragments. When climate change hits, these corridors will be critical for survival.”

If you long to be awoken by a dawn chorus of songbirds returning to the Fraser Valley, consider camping at one of Matsqui Trail’s four modest riverside sites, which have just reopened for the season.

With the exception of hot summer weekends, Petersen said there are usually vacancies.

Many people who camp here are cycling the Trans Canada Trail, of which Matsqui Trail is a well-forged, spirit-shivering link, indeed.

Original Article
Text CR Jack Christie
Photo CR Louise Christie

Yan Li (left) and Gang Xiao reached Wreck Beach from Pacific Spirit Regional Park’s Trail 4.

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