The 'Road to Nowhere' : Riverside to Blue Lake

Last night turned out to be a bit of a strange one.  Around 10 pm an ancient pickup truck drove very slowly around the loop of the tiny campground, stopping beside our tent and idling the engine for a few minutes before slowly driving on, leaving behind a cloud of exhaust fumes. 

 

Then, at 1 am another pickup truck drove in, lighting the tent up like it was on a stage.  People got out and walked up to the tent, checked under the tarp and opened the fly up, said something we didn't catch, and got back in their vehicle, but didn't drive away. In the dark, in the middle of nowhere, this was pretty unnerving.  The driver spent the next 20 minutes manoeuvring back and forth, with people getting out and talking, getting back in, and manoeuvring some more.  It turned out they were trying to position an RV, which I imagine was no easy task in a small space in the dark.  However, it took us a while to guess what was going on, and we still didn't know who was out there, parking a few feet away from us. It reminded us that one of the scariest things we all face in this world is the unknown. 

 

A few minutes after we were joined by our mysterious neighbours it began to pour torrentially, and anything more they did was lost among the noise of the rain thundering down on our tarp.  It continued to rain for the remainder of the night, but thankfully stopped just before morning. 

When I opened the tent at first light it had stopped raining, but to our surprise the mountain peaks around us were covered in snow!  If we had waited one day more, it is possible Elk Pass might have been white, magical, and much harder for us to trek. 

 

After making breakfast and packing up our sodden gear, we set out into the cold and crisp morning.  Mist was rising from the river in the treed valley below, and the snow emphasized the curves, swirls, and striped patterns on the rocky peaks above us.  As feeling slowly returned to our frozen fingers and toes we were greeted by spectacular scenery.

 

 

For the next 35 km we followed the undulating gravel logging road along the length of the Elk Valley.  The Trans Canada Trail guidebook had suggested that since Elkford is 800 m lower in elevation than the Elk Pass, that the walk west should be a descent.  It turned out the devil was in the details.  What it actually said was that on average there was more descending than climbing.  Our first 27 km felt like they were mostly spent climbing.  Only the last 8 km were a gentle descent.  Hmm. 

 

Although the gravel logging road was easy to walk, our progress over the course of the morning was slow, because we stopped frequently to admire and photograph the snowy peaks.  We were struck anew by the awesome scale and magnitude of the scenery surrounding us.  We were also amazed by how different the rock formations of the mountains on either side of us were. 

 

 

It wasn't only the spectacular scenery that slowed us down. The north-south valley is evidently a corridor for migratory songbirds, and there was a lot of bird activity around us.  We stopped frequently to watch mixed flocks of warblers and other small songbirds almost tumbling through the bushes in their haste, barely pausing as they picked up insects in passing. 

 

 

In one such flock we spotted Cedar Waxwings, Wilson's Warblers, Yellow Warblers, many Yellow-rumped Warblers, several Warbling Vireos, abundant Dark-eyed Juncos, and American Robins.  It felt like their progress was being spurred on by the cold, much as ours also is now. 

 

About an hour after leaving we passed a sign for the Elk Valley Bighorn Outfitters.  We later learned that this operation offers guided hunts on horseback through the southern Rocky Mountain Range of BC.  Apparently species that are hunted here include mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, cougar/lynx, and bears.  Some time later in the day we heard several gunshots in the woods above us and began to wonder just when hunting season began in BC. 

 

 

Much of the Elk Valley has been, or is being logged.  Throughout the day we passed many forest blocks that had been recently cut, as well as stands of young, regenerating spruce, and areas of older trees.  Looking out across the valley, the forested slopes appeared to be covered in a moth eaten quilt of different shaped and sized light and dark green patches, created by differently aged stands of trees. 

 

 

We also noticed other signs of forest management along the way.  The road was lined with flagging tape of all colours, some to mark trails, turn-offs, trap lines and other points of interest, and some for forestry purposes. For example, some of the brightly coloured flagging tape delineated 'Pesticide Free Areas.' Others outlined 'Plant Management Zones' or ‘Wildlife Tree’.  One of the more puzzling sets of markers were the 'Invasive Plant' tags.  It seemed strange to label the plants instead of either simply removing them or ignoring them. It felt like they were being shamed, and I wondered if I should be given an 'Invasive Species' label too. 

 

 

Early on we passed another access point for the Elk Lakes Provincial Park, and the Cadorna Creek Trailhead.  We also passed several other back country maps with detailed descriptions of where motorized vehicles were and were not permitted.  We couldn't make heads or tails of the maps, or some of the instructions on how to find specific trailheads by following cadastral lines to the height of the land, prior to following unnamed creeks to unnamed ridges along unnamed pathways. It seems people are much more skilled, adventurous, and independent out in the wilderness parks of BC than we're used to. 

 

 

Around noon we took a break at the Weary Creek Recreational Site to filter and refill our water as well as to dry out our tent in the midday sun.  It would have been a beautiful spot to camp, with a fire pit, a couple picnic tables, and a pit toilet right beside the shallow, clear, fast-flowing river.  We had been hoping to dry out our tarp and tent fly, but as soon as we laid them out on the grass, the sun promptly hid behind a cloud, and the temperature dropped again.  Such is life. 

 

After our break the trail really began to climb, leaving the hydro corridor along the river and snaking up the side of the valley wall.  Up and up we climbed until we were just under the lip of the valley wall.  It wasn't a particularly difficult or steep climb, but it was tiring.  At least we were rewarded with gorgeous views down the valley.

 

 

One of the things that puzzled us today was the amount of traffic on the logging road which the Trans Canada Trail's own guidebook calls “the proverbial road to nowhere”.  Admittedly there is a network of roads and trails snaking all over this valley, as well as access points to several wilderness provincial parks, but ultimately the valley north of us is undeveloped, it is in the middle of nowhere, and the road leads to nothing major.  Yet, as the day progressed we must have been passed by about twenty pickup trucks, three trucks pulling horse trailers, two cars with camping gear tied to the roof, and one VW van.  At one point there was nearly a collision between us and two other vehicles who were approaching each other on the narrow gravel road, one of them going over 100 kph.  Having spent years driving backcountry logging roads in Algonquin Park while leading research crews I well know how dangerous driving at such speeds amid a wildlife corridor was. Where was all this traffic coming from and going to? 

 

 

 

"Well, we know where we're goin'
But we don't know where we've been
And we know what we're knowin'
But we can't say what we've seen...

 

... We're on a road to nowhere"

         

                                                                    Talking Heads "Road to Nowhere"

 

When we finally began to descend we found ourselves walking between two walls of green trees.  The tall, straight trunks of the densely packed spruce trees appeared like almost solid, impenetrable walls. 

 

When the view did open up, we got a taste of the extent of the logging that is being done in the Elk Valley.  In some places the clear cuts stretched out for many hectares.  In others regeneration was beginning to occur, and young stands of pine saplings were beginning to take hold.

 

 

Just before we reached the Blue Lake Recreation Area, where we are camping for tonight, we passed the entrance to one of the Teck mines.  This is one of Teck Resource's four steel making coal operations in the Elk Valley. The largest is the Fording River Operation, which annually produces about 23.4 million tonnes of steel making, or metallurgical coal which is used to make steel.  Much of the processed coal is transported by sea to the Asia-Pacific Region. 

 

 

The Blue Lake Recreation Area is a small campground with two picnic tables, two fire pits, a pit toilet, and spaces for quite a few tents and RVs tucked into a stand of very tall, mature trees.  It is right on the shores of a small pond whose water levels have dropped considerably over the course of the summer, leaving a wide, rocky beach exposed. 

 

We set up our tent under the trees on the shore of the pond, and went down to the beach to explore.  The still, greenish waters of the lake were reflecting the mountains behind, and the grey pebble beach was bathed in sunshine.  A group of three Spotted Sandpipers were chasing each other back and forth along the beach and flying across the pond, their reflections following along below as a perfect mirror image.

 

 

As we go to sleep we can hear the loud and repeated calls of a Barred Owl.  We can also hear a distant roar, which sounds like a highway but can't possibly be because there isn't one near us.  Perhaps it is one of the mining operations in the valley.  We can also still hear traffic on the 'proverbial road to nowhere' even though it is now well after dark.  The temperatures are already falling, and we can tell it will be another very cold night.

 

See you on the trail!

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