A Long Trek for a Short Distance : Nelson to Granite

We knew today was going to be a tough one physically, but we hadn't anticipated just how mentally challenging it would be.  After 12,000 km on the Trans Canada Trail, we're slowly getting better at accepting that it isn't about the destination, but rather the journey. After all, if we'd walked a straight east-west line across Canada, we'd have gotten from the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Atlantic and almost half way back to the Pacific again by now.  However, today we walked 5 times farther, and gained nearly 10 times the elevation than we would have done by simply taking the road.  In trekking across and out of Nelson and then summiting Toad Mountain we walked just shy of 35 km, gained 1,180 m of elevation and lost it all again, only to return to a point on the highway 6.5 km west of where we began.  It was an incredibly energy intensive day, and this late in the season, our energy reserves are pretty low to begin with.  Needless to say, we didn't end the day with the most positive of mindsets.

Don’t be mistaken, neither of us is complaining.  We knew the distances and route when we set out – none of it is a surprise.  It is simply a reflection of our own exhaustion after more than 520 days on the TCT.  Or more simply put, we have entered a point on the trail where the mental challenges have begun to equal or exceed the physical ones. 

The morning began in the best of ways - with a breakfast of coffee and fresh, warm, raspberry chocolate muffins at Oso Negro, a wonderful café in downtown Nelson.  It was warm, cozy, and full of representatives from all walks of life in Nelson - the outdoor community, business people, retirees, parents and kids on their way to school and work, and artistic individuals of all kinds.  It was very difficult to leave but all good things must come to an end. 

Reluctantly, we strapped our backpacks on and made our way through town.  In Nelson the TCT weaves along city streets climbing up, and up, and up through tree lined neighbourhoods with unique homes and gardens where native plants and bits of wilderness were welcome.  Those first few kilometers were an incredibly steep climb up through town to a trailhead for the Great Northern Rail Trail. 

The Great Northern Rail Trail, which was originally known as the Salmo-Troup Rail Trail, is 48 km long and connects Nelson to Salmo.  It uses the rail corridor that was originally built by the Nelson and Fort Sheppard Railway.  The train line was built in the 1800's by D.C. Corbin, an American who was responding to the silver rush that was occurring in the West Kootenays.  The line was sold to Burlington Northern and Santa Fe in 1996, by which point it had already been abandoned.  In 1997 it was sold to the province for use as a recreational trail.

After half an hour of hard climbing we were grateful to find that there was a picnic table at the trailhead, and we gratefully took a break, already wanting a rest before we even began. The lines to Bruce Springsteen's song 'Shackled and Drawn' were circling in both our heads. As we sat for a moment, we noticed that creative side of Nelson was evident even in the tiny parking lot for the trailhead, where the crash barriers had been stencilled with elk, bears, and other animals that inhabit the mountainous terrain in this area.

We followed the rail trail for the first 7 km of our hike along treed slopes.  It was a cool, damp, morning and the smell of balsam fir was strong as we made our way to the edge of Nelson.  The trail was bordered by homes and back gardens on the downhill side, while a slope covered in huge, tall, dark green conifers extended up on the other.  We passed several people out walking their dogs, pushing strollers, and going for a jog as we made our way through the long green tunnel.

Soon we passed beyond the town limits and found ourselves surrounded by steep, forested slopes on all sides. We climbed gradually but steadily upwards, through a cool, overcast, morning.  Mist hung in bands from some of the slopes, creating a magical feel.

Some areas had been logged, opening up our views down the surrounding valleys.  In other sections we enjoyed the reds and yellows of the fall colours that were just beginning to show on the mountains surrounding us.  We crossed several clear, fast-flowing creeks on curving wooden trestle bridges, grateful not to have to climb down into the ravines and back out again. 

This first part of the day’s journey was relatively easy going, surrounded by quiet, peaceful, forested slopes. Eventually we came to a sign indicating that we were crossing into the Cottonwood Lake Regional Park. Apparently, this 8.2 hectare park features access to Cottonwood Lake, a swimming beach, picnic tables, a boat launch, walking trails, cross-country ski trails, rest rooms, and a parking lot. Sadly, we didn't walk as far as the lake, instead turning and heading back up the highway for a few hundred meters before turning off onto Giveout Creek Forest Service Road.  If we had continued straight down the rail trail, it would have taken us down a spur of Trans Canada Trail to Salmo – a stretch that was part of the original national pathway connecting Nelson, Salmo, Trail, and Christina Lake together. Today however the communities of Salmo, Trail, and Slocan are no longer on the main TCT route and are instead at the ends of spur trails which we are unfortunately not visiting.

When we reached the highway we took a break and ate our "tweets" from the Oso Negro bakery.  These delicious chocolate covered cookies gave us an energy boost to begin switch backing up the steep, gravel, logging and mining road.  Somewhat surprisingly, several pickup trucks passed us as we climbed up, and up, and up.  Although it was steep going, we enjoyed amazing views out over the forested valleys behind us.

A few kilometres up the road we knew we were supposed to divert onto a hiking trail.  We almost missed the turnoff, because the signpost had been knocked down, and an RV was parked right across the trailhead.  We only realized we had passed the turnoff when we saw the trail below us on the steep, forested slope.

The transition from the road to the trail was a bit challenging - more of a loose gravel chute than a trail, but we soon found ourselves walking along a wide, level, earth pathway that ran along the side of a steep, forested slope.  The incredibly tall, straight trunks of cedars rose high above our heads, a thick carpet of dry, reddish, cedar needles covered the ground, and a picturesque waterfall tumbled down among the rocks.

A short while later we came to a trail sign indicating we were picking up the aptly named Fairly High Trail.  The description indicated that the 'flowy' mountain biking trail was easy, but gained about 700 m elevation and provided interpretive signage connecting the trail to the history of Nelson and the Silver King Mine.  In 1887 silver ore was discovered on Toad Mountain, and a mine was created which was owned by the Hall family of Nelson. Ore was brought down from the mine to the smelter down below in the village of Nelson.  Today's hike took up to the summit of Toad Mountain, and gave us an opportunity to see some of the history of the region.

We set off up the undulating trail that wove and switch backed up the steep, forested, side of the mountain.  Huge tall cedars towered above us, and almost right away we passed a sign indicating we were sharing the trail with grizzly bears. Throughout the day we passed similar signs warning of 'Bear Habitat next 100 m', which seemed oddly specific for these large animals.  Fortunately / unfortunately we never spotted any bears, or even any scat.

The single-track trail was also shared by mountain bikes going in both directions, and we were warned to yield to downhill traffic.  Of the 5 or 6 cyclists who passed us during the first part of the morning's climb, all were ascending.  It seemed likely they were taking advantage of the bouncy switch backed route to more easily climb to the top of a network of more extreme trails they could shoot back down the slopes on.

The first historical sign we arrived at was accompanied by a piece of the old ski lift that was in operation on these slopes during the 1950s.  In 1934 the Nelson Ski Club was formed, and the first ski lodge and ski jump was built at the edge of the gravel pit near Fairview.  Skiers accessed the run by using a tow-rope driven by the axel of an old model-T Ford.  In the mid 1950's, local skiers wanted longer vertical runs, and obtained permission to use land on the Silver King Mine site at the base of Toad Mountain. Volunteers built a 300 m T-bar ski lift, which crossed the path where we were standing.  Looking around, there was very little other evidence of any past ski runs or lifts, making us realize how quickly nature can reclaim areas we spent a lot of time and energy modifying.

We continued climbing up the steep forested slopes, crossing small streams on narrow wooden footbridges, and enjoying the quiet, sunny, morning.  Soon we began to see antique metal objects from the old Silver King Mine.  A rusty metal bucket at the side of the trail was filled with colourful rocks.  Just beyond it, two thick metal cables were stretched among the trees, with old cast iron buckets suspended from them above the trail.

An interpretive panel explained that a gravity-operated, 7 km long aerial tramway was used to transport ore down the steep slope from the Silver King Mine to the smelter at Nelson.  The cables were supported by 123 towers, and the system could hold 875 buckets, each weighing 45 kg and loaded with up to 68 kg of ore.  Seventeen men were required to operate the system, which could bring 10 tons of ore per hour to the smelter. 

As we neared the top of the mountain we climbed steeply up on a series of very well-designed switchbacks.  The tightly winding trail was interspersed with wooden boardwalks that had bumps, specially angled curves, and ramps to give a smooth and more exciting ride to cyclists.  As we wound our way up, several pairs of cyclists came whooping and laughing downwards, all of them retired ladies with long silver hair and very brightly coloured clothing.  I can only hope I am in such good shape and spirits 25 years from now!

Soon we came to a large hole in the side of the mountain, which was the now blocked up entrance to the old mine.  I say it was a large hole, but in reality it was just large enough to walk into without ducking.  When you realize this was once the entrance to one of the largest silver mines in the world, it was pretty unprepossessing.

An interpretive sign explained how a crop failure in Coleville County inspired many men from Washington State to head north in 1886 to try their luck at prospecting for gold in the West Kootenays. Winslow and Osner Hall were two such brothers.  After a long and frustrating season, when they were tired, running low on supplies, and about to return home, they were making camp on the side of Toad Mountain when they stumbled on a vein of shiny rock.  It turned out to be rich in copper and silver, and by 1888 the Hall Brothers had managed to start a mine, despite the steep and difficult terrain.

Eventually we came out near the top of the mountain, walking through sections of young, regenerating conifer forest, and open areas filled with bright pink and red plants that were topped with feathery white seed heads that gave the meadows a frosted look.  From this open area we had wonderful views out over the surrounding Kokanee and Valhalla mountains.

Looking in a certain direction we could see the town of Nelson far below, stretched out along the shores of Kootenay Lake.  The landscape looked soft and blue in the haze, some of which likely came from forest fires.

We took a break near the top, eating a granola bar and enjoying the view.  As we did so, several cyclists rode past, heading down the slope.  One was a young dad with a tiny little girl strapped into a seat on the front of his bike.  She was giggling and babbling the whole way down, saying 'whoa!' and 'twisty!' with a huge smile on her face.  It was a lovely bit of joy to boost us up the last bit of climbing.

We crossed a gravel road, passed a more official looking rest spot with a sign saying 'Very High', and then reach what we assume was the summit.  There was a great view back over Nelson, and a rock cairn, but when we arrived it was occupied by another hiker.  She was standing still, enjoying the view, with her shoes off, shirt wide open and all her gear laid out at the base of the cairn.  We waited for a few minutes, hoping to take a photo from the top, but she remained in place, looking out over the valley and firmly pretending we didn't exist.  Eventually we simply gave up and continued on our way so as not to unnerve her.

After the summit our trail began its descent which (for us) has always been harder than trekking uphill.  By this point in the day our legs had begun to turn to jelly and our energy was low, making for tough going.  Thankfully the condition of the trail continued to be great making our progress easier going.

We followed the 'Bottoms Up' trail back down to the foot of the mountain.  Like the climb up, it was a consistent and relatively gentle descent, complete with many, many, many switchbacks.  Our route down took us through Morning Mountain Regional Park, a 20.6 ha park that features a huge network of mountain biking trails, as well as access to trails beyond the park. 

Morning Mountain Regional Park is designated as multipurpose, providing opportunities for cycling, hiking, nature appreciation, snowshoeing, and tobogganing, as well as a day use area.  However, in our experience it definitely seemed most popular with cyclists.  Our trail was very busy with people cycling up the mountain, again, likely because the switchbacked route provided the easiest way up.  It took us quite a while to get down, because we kept stepping off the trail to let people pass, but thankfully the cyclists were amazing!  Several of them stopped to chat, and no one was openly annoyed by slow moving walkers blocking up their trails. 

Since entering BC, the Trans Canada Trail has routed us through mountain biking parks of various sizes, difficulty levels, and grades in almost every town we come to.  Although they have mostly been gorgeous cycling trails, it is clear they are not designed for hikers.  Having said that, much of the Trans Canada Trail hasn't been designed for hikers, or even long-distance cyclists for that matter.  This is true even if you ignore the water routes, and the thousands of kilometres on backcountry gravel roads or the shoulders of freeways. Parts of it are footpaths accessible only to hikers.  Others are paved cycling trails where hikers aren't really welcome.  Other sections are accessible only in winter, going through chest deep marshes and the middle of lakes in summer.  Still others exist only as unmarked waypoints, not at all present in the physical world except by intrepid wayfinders who bushwhack. 

As we slowly approach the end of our east-west journey, having walked over 12,000 km of the Trans Canada Trail, it is still very difficult to characterize or 'understand' the nature or vision of this trail.  Long-distance trails in the US and Europe seem to be designed to facilitate a single mode of transit.  You can walk from Georgia to Maine on the Appalachian Trail.  You can cycle from Mexico to British Columbia on the Continental Divide Trail.  They are long, and intended to be traversed end to end.

In contrast, the Trans Canada Trail spans from coast to coast to coast has yet to be completed in full as it requires users to use different modes of transit for different parts - it is not intended to be walked, cycled, or paddled in its entirety.  Our best guess, as we weave up and down and up and down a mountain bike trail carrying our large, heavy packs, is that this trail is meant to provide experiences.  Mountain biking and extreme sports are clearly a valued part of BC culture, and so the trail gives way to that experience, even if it makes almost no sense for thru-hikers or cross-country cyclists.  Although it connects communities across the country, it is a network of local trails, and it simply wasn't created or designed to be experienced as a whole.  Or was it?  After so long venturing along the TCT we still have little insight into the national trail.

As we made our slow way down, switch backing along the earth trail and following the winding boardwalks, we could hear people talking and whooping as they sped down the steeper, straighter trails around us.  It was a little unnerving, because we were never sure if they were on our trail or beside us, but most of them seemed to shoot straight down the slopes on paths that were so steep I'd never have the courage to cycle them (or even walk them). 

As the afternoon wore on we began to see some of the same people cycling back up the mountain for a second time, and some of them stopped for a chat.  One cyclist took the time to share what he knew about the trails ahead of us, which was very kind of him.  The way he described the Ward's Ferry Trail, which we plan to walk from Granite to Castlegar tomorrow, was a little disconcerting.  He obviously liked it, saying 'Oh, you get to walk the Ward's Ferry Trail!'  but then noting there was a bit of climbing, before it goes back down to the river, where it is relatively easy and fast going.  That sounded encouraging, but then he seemed doubtful about our ability to make Castlegar, saying that would be pretty tough. Hmm. As always you never know until you see if for yourself and are in the midst of it. 

We thanked him and continued on.  For most of the day our path had been very clearly marked and signed.  However, when we got to the bottom of the mountain there were many criss-crossing trails, and a lot of them had been roped off or re-routed.   The last stretch became a little confusing, but eventually we made it down to a large parking lot with a covered picnic area, a water fountain, and pit toilets.  The parking area was very busy with people coming and going, but it was good to finally take another break. 

Here while taking a break and striving to figure out what to do for the night, we were confronted by a muscular cyclist who we had seen passing us several times during our descent.  He had his shirt unzipped and confidently strutted up to the table we were sitting at to ask what we were doing on the cycling trail.  Yet as we strove to give our usual answer about hiking the TCT from the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Arctic he repeatedly interrupted not willing listen to what he termed “our outrageous lies” which he claimed “where made up to impress him.”.  His reasoning was that our gear could not have gotten us from Cape Spear Newfoundland to British Columbia, that I was not athletic enough to have even hiked even from Nelson, and that the venture could only “be done by someone in superb shape”.  He then went on to talk extensively about how much he worked out, how athletic he was, and....and .... and....  

Needless to say he was very impressed with himself.  Needless to say, in the words of Shania Twain "that don't impress me much."

 

And so as we concluded a day which had frustratingly only moved us 6.5 km west the added challenge of being publicly berated and doubted was heaped on.  We only had the energy to walk away as his rant continued and he began listing his own athletic achievements.

Tired we unfortunately also soon discovered that we weren't quite finished with the winding switchbacks down - there was another 1.2 km of them to reach the highway.  And so, as the sun began to set, we ended our 35 km day by the tiny community Granite, just an hour’s highway walk west of where we began the morning in Nelson.

"Shackled and drawn, shackled and drawn.  Sometimes all you can do is pick up your rock and carry on..."

See you on the trail!

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