Crawl, Climb and Slide : Granite to Castlegar

When we set out this morning the hills and mountains above us were entirely hidden in a thick bank of mist and fog.  We could have been anywhere, with trees and buildings appearing out of the fog as we approached, the only thing visible beyond them a solid wall of white.  Even sound seemed to be muffled by the thick blanket.

The first 12 km of the Trans Canada Trail today were along Blewett Rd, a winding, two lane, paved, highway without a shoulder.  The road undulated up and down, threading between patches of forest, small fields and pastures, homes, and farm buildings.  Traffic wasn't heavy, which was a blessing given the limited visibility, and luckily the drivers were very courteous.  It wasn't until we'd almost reached our turnoff that the sun began to burn away the fog, and we began to see small horse farms and ranches emerging out of the mist around us.  At the same time, forested slopes above us began to emerge, the greens and yellows of fall gradually adding colour to the nearly black and white landscape.  We even spotted a small flock of Wild Turkeys foraging in a nearby field.

Eventually the road drew alongside the Kootenay River, and although we couldn't really see it through the trees, we passed the Corra Linn Dam. This was the first of five dams we'd pass today.  It was built in 1932 to control upstream water storage in Kootenay Lake and to generate power through three 19,000 horsepower units.  It was originally constructed to supply Cominco with electricity for its mining operations. 

Shortly after this we turned off the highway onto Rover Creek Rd.  We climbed steeply upwards on this gravel mining and logging road for a few kilometres.  Looking back down the valley behind us, we could see the Kootenay River and the buildings at the Upper Bonnington Dam.  This power generating station was built to meet additional power needs at the smelters and mines in Greenwood and Grand Forks.  Construction of the dam was controversial.  Lorne Campbell filed a mineral claim on the site to preserve the business that West Kootenay Power has with the streetcar and smelter in Nelson.  Eventually the legal battle was won by the City of Nelson, but Campbell was able to scare away potential investors until 1905.  The dam was built the following year.

After a couple kilometres of climbing on the gravel road, we came to the south Slocan access for the Ward's Ferry Trail.  This 7 km trail was created and maintained by the Nelson and Area's Trail Society, and it connects Grover Creek Rd to the community of Glade.  A sign at the trailhead indicated it is rated easy to moderate, and follows an original wagon route.  It also passes by the landing where Tom Ward used to ferry people and supplies across the Kootenay River to the Neslon District Mines. 

From these descriptions we had envisioned a trail that was relatively easy to navigate, perhaps being a wide and grassy ATV tract, since it had once been used by wagons.  From the satellite images it looked like it followed the bank of the river, and didn't involve too much ascending and descending. We expected that we could complete it in around 3 hours or so.  We really couldn't have been more wrong.  We haven't walked anything as personally challenging as what followed since we hiked the Fundy Footpath in New Brunswick.

As a whole, the trail was a bit of a mixed bag, and it started out well enough.  At the outset a wide earthen footpath led us through a beautiful coniferous forest.  Then there was an incredibly steep climb on a slippery slope, followed by a descent to Rover Creek, which we crossed on a lovely wooden footbridge. The morning air was cool and fresh, and it smelled of fall.  So far so good.

Another steep climb followed, and soon we emerged into a heavily logged area, skirting around large piles of slash and weaving between fallen logs on a slightly overgrown footpath.  There were plenty of thistles, but in its own way, the clear-cut brought out the reds and yellows of autumn.

Next we emerged onto a grassy track running under a hydro corridor.  We could hear the sounds of industry, and the roar of a highway across the valley.  Curiously, the slope across from us appeared to be sparkling.  Upon further investigation, it looked like a huge traffic jam was winding its way up several kilometres of a logging road.  A long line of cars and trucks, some of which looked like they'd been there since 1970's, and some of which could have been parked there this morning, were lined up along the road that snaked up the forested mountain slope.  We assume this was an auto wreckers, but it looked like the set for a zombie apocalypse movie.

We took a short break on the open grassy hydro corridor, blissfully unaware of the challenges that literally lay just around the corner. When we continued on, we discovered that the trail dove straight over the edge of an extremely steep slope.  We found ourselves edging along the length of a 45 ° slope on a 'trail' that was barely as wide as our feet.  The 'path' wasn't level, but rather kept the same angle as the slope, which was composed of loose sand and gravel.  Each footstep sent small trickles of loose dirt and gravel skittering down the hillside.  Each footstep was a new opportunity for our feet to go sliding out from under us.  If we slipped, there was nothing to stop us from continuing down the slope for at least 100 m. 

I am willing to admit that this section may have been easier to navigate without heavy packs on.  I am willing to admit it may have been better if I wasn't afraid of heights.  It may have been better if I wasn't already exhausted.  However, nothing would have changed the fact that the slope was completely unstable, and there was a huge drop below us.  Nothing would have changed the fact that in places trees had fallen, leaving us to scramble over or around the loose and unstable holes left in the slope by their roots.  We descended for about 200 m on a hair-raising and to me utterly terrifying set of switchbacks, trying desperately not to make an uncontrolled slide down the slope.

As we descended we clung to the words of the cyclist we met yesterday.  He claimed that once we descended to the river, the trail would become more level and things would get easier.  Once again, we couldn't have been more wrong.  We quickly learned that perspective matters - locals must consider 'flat' and 'easy' to be anything that doesn't ascend or descend 1,000 to 2,000 m as the trails in the Rocky Mountains do.  In this respect he was entirely correct.  What he failed to mention was that the path was often only 6 inches wide, it was perched midway up an incredibly steep and unstable slope, and below us was the rocky shore of a river. If we survived a fall down the slope, there would be no way to crawl back up out of the water

We finally reached the bottom of the slope, our legs shaking from the ordeal.  The next section of trail wove through a wet marshy area.  Sunshine filtered down through a canopy of cedars and conifers, and the forest was very lush and green.  We crossed a few small streams on narrow wooden beams, and waded through some muddy sections on flooded grassy tracks.  In some areas it was difficult to tell where the footpath led, but in every instance a path had been cut through the fallen trees and brush.  While it was a huge relief to be on flat ground again, picking our way around and through the deep, sticky, mud was also time consuming and energy intensive.

By this time we had climbed down to water level, and we could look across the river to South Slocan on the far side.  Small farms with picturesque barns lined the far shore of Kootenay River.  Small treed islands and the forested hills beyond were reflected in the still waters.  Sandy beaches lined the waterway, beckoning to us on the hot, sunny afternoon.

For around 5 km we walked along the shoreline of the river, picking our way along the steep slope down to the water on a narrow footpath.  In some sections the slope was open and grassy, and we made our way through overgrown shrubby areas.  In other areas the shore was covered in conifers, and we had to rock scramble steeply up and down, often on our hands and knees.  In other places the shoreline was giving way, literally crumbling as we walked along it. 

After a particularly difficult and stressful section, we came to a sign saying 'Warning! Steep slippery section!'  At that point it didn't seem like it would be possible to survive if the trail got any worse, but after another rock scramble on our hands and knees we came to a short section of wooden boardwalks and stairs.  Evidently it wouldn't have possible to pass without help, and thankfully some had been provided.

Partway through our harrowing journey along the riverbank we came to an interpretive sign explaining the significance of Ward's Ferry.  Thomas Martindale Ward was born in 1859 in Kurachee, India, where his father was a surgeon-general in the East India Company.  His family immigrated to Canada in 1867, and his family set up a farm in Stanhope, Quebec. Thomas got an education in agriculture at the Ontario Agricultural College in Guelph, and then decided to try his luck in the West.

Until the construction of the Lower Boddington Dam in 1897 the Kootenay River was rocky and narrow, creating a series of rapids that rendered steamer or paddlewheeler access impossible.  Rich silver and copper mines had been discovered around Toad Mountain, Nelson was beginning to develop, and a flood of fortune seekers was coming to the area.  One of the only places to cross the Kootenay River was near Shoreacres, and there was no other way to access the mining area, so Ward set up a ferry to take people across for 50 cents and animals for 75 cents. I can only imagine they took a different route to the crossing point than the steep, narrow, treacherous one we took!

About 2 km from the community of Glade our trail turned unto a wide, level, pathway through a pleasant conifer forest.  For a short while it was about 2 m wide, much more like how we imagined the entire route would be.  It then became inexplicably narrowed again, but stayed a nice trail, eventually turning into a wide, very soft sandy trail along the river-way.

Eventually we popped out into the tiny community of Glade, which was composed primarily of small hobby farms and residences that faced the river.  Apparently the community was founded between 1908 and 1915 by the Doukhobors, a group of Russian Christian Pacifists led by Peter Verigin.  Today is a quite, rural community that can be reached only by ferry.

We walked through Glade on a long, straight, paved road.  The 4 km walk felt very long in the extremely hot afternoon sunshine.  It seemed like a very peaceful community apart from the roar of the highway across the river.  We heard a few dogs barking as we walked through town, and a ferry let off a few vehicles that passed us on the road, but otherwise not much was going on.

We were relieved to reach the far side of town and duck back into the welcome shade of a dense coniferous forest.  We took a break at a parking lot near the trailhead, drinking some of our water, and wondering what to do next.  We had imagined it would take us about 3 hours to do the first part of the trail, and it had taken us nearly twice that long.  We had another 12 km to cover to reach Castlegar, and about 4 hours of daylight left.  If the next section of trail was as difficult for us to complete as the first part had been, we likely wouldn't make it before dark.  On the other hand, we believed that there was nowhere to stop, so in the end we continued on.

We followed a gravel road and soon came to a sign indicating we were entering the Skattebo Educational Forest, which was managed by the faculty and students of Selkirk College for teaching, education, research, and recreation.  As we made our way through this beautiful cedar and hemlock forest we spotted several families out enjoying the sunny afternoon, a couple cars passed us, and we walked by a man cutting trees for firewood.

We were very much relieved to followed the winding gravel road for the next 5 km or so.  It also let us pick up our pace, keeping alive the hope that we could reach Castelgar before dark.  Eventually, we came to the trailhead for the Skattebo Reach Trail, a 12 km trail that was described as being of intermediate difficulty, with some rocky, fragile sections and some narrow and steep sections.

What followed was a mixed bag of pathways that varied between being long stretches of gorgeous, newly upgraded trail sections and several treacherous sections in between.  It was clear that a lot of work was being done along the entire 12 km trail.  In some places it was wide, level, and cleared, and there were small sections of wooden boardwalks threading up and down the steep forested slopes.  It looked like the trail was being designed for mountain bikes, and it was a joy to walk.

In other sections the trail was as advertised - narrow, steep, and crumbling away as we crept along above steep drops.  We wove our way up and down, heading up the slopes into the trees before descending back down to the shores of the Kootenay River.  The views along the river were beautiful, but we had little energy left with which to enjoy them.

At one point we came to a place in the trail where it had washed out, and there was a 5 ft drop.  Sean took his pack off and slid down the loose earth drop, almost over-balancing and pitching over the edge of the 6 inch wide path below.  I lowered his pack over the edge to him, but didn't dare slide down after him.  I strapped my pack on and edged along the loose rock and moss above the drop, praying nothing would give way as I inched along.  While I'm sure some people would relish the challenge, for me, carrying a pack that weighs half as much as I do, it was just plain terrifying.

We crossed several picturesque bridges and waterfalls in this section.  At one of these we found a wooden bench and a Trans Canada Trail info sign.  Although our legs were ready to give out, we only perched on the bench for a few minutes, well aware that we had very little daylight left.  As we sat there we spotted an American Dipper playing in the tumbling water of the mossy and rocky creek bed in front of us. Unfortunately, it was too dark to photograph it, but it picked up our spirits a little.

We could hear the highway in front of us, and we knew we only had about 3 km left to hike to get to the edge of Castlegar.  Sadly, the trail went straight up a huge, rocky, hill. Admittedly there were gorgeous views down the river valley from the top, but the sun was shining straight into our faces, and reflecting off the water below, making us mostly blind.  Our legs were so sore and tired we were barely stumbling forward at this point.

With huge relief, we emerged onto a gravel road that led down to a power generating station.  It felt like the end was near, and surely it was just an easy walk out to the road now?  No, it was not to be. We followed the gravel track for a few hundred meters over a forested hill, and then the trail arrow once again pointed over the edge of the road, down a very steep forested slope.  It looked like it was pointing to a rock slide.  Turns out it was.

We slithered off the edge of the road, and followed the 'trail' for a few hundred meters. It got more and more rocky, until we lost the direction completely in the midst of the slide.  Sean's instincts are good, and he threaded his way to the other side, only to find the least stable sand footpath we'd encountered so far. It went straight down the side of a rock slide - loose sand and gravel the only thing remaining for the last 50 m down to an old paved road.  There was no other way down off the cliff edge.  It was impossible to step down without the slope giving away.  We had no choice but to ingloriously slide down the last bit on our rear ends.  The result would cut our pants, legs, and hands open as we slid along the sharp rock “pathway”.

When we got to the bottom we found a sign saying 'Danger, Falling Rock and Slipping Hazards, Hike at Own Risk' set beside another sign saying “Falling Rock Stay off”.  Beneath both were brand new Trans Canada Trail signs with arrows pointing up!  To give the Skattebo Reach Trail it's due, a lot of work was being done to improve it, and in the challenging sections it was clear new routes had been marked out.  It offered beautiful scenery, and once the work is completed, it will be a lovely trail.  It just came too late in the day, and we were too tired to enjoy it.

We picked our cut, bruised and battered bodies up and stumbled down the paved road towards the highway.  We finally made it, just as the daylight was fading ... only to find a 10 ft tall, barbed wire topped, firmly locked gate.  There were dense trees and shrubs on both sides of the road, but we crawled through them, following the fence in both directions and looking for a way out.  Nothing.

We were just concluding that we would have to turn back and look for another way out when a Fortis BC truck pulled up and a man got out.  We half expected we were about to get lectured or arrested for trespassing, but the wonderful man simply smiled at us and asked 'Are you stuck in there?' as he opened the gate.  He explained that we were supposed to have dropped down another slope between two concrete barriers along the road, following an unmarked path down to the river and across a different bridge.  Apparently we had missed the unmarked turnoff in the dim light.  He let us through the gate, and wished us well.  I think he must have been sent at that particular moment by Saint Roch.  I wish I could have thanked him more than we did.

It was pitch dark as we crossed the highway, heading for the campground.  As we made our way down a dark and winding road we could hear multiple dogs barking incessantly and frantically ahead of us.  When we asked to camp in the campground we were told it wasn't safe, that there was a persistent and aggressive bear in the area, which is what had set off the dogs.  It felt like the day was never going to end.

We stood at the side of the dark and apparently bear infested road, looking for available hotel rooms in Castlegar.  There was one room left at the Super 8 motel, a 5 km walk away.  It was far too dark to walk the trail, which circled around the waterway on a long footpath, so we made our way through Castlegar directly along the highway and roads.  Around 8:00 pm we finally brought one of the longest, hardest, most stressful days we’ve had on the Great Trail in a long time to an end.

 

See you on the trail!

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