Murder Mysteries and Rail Histories : Tunnel Station to Coryell

Last night was one of the best we've had on the trail since we walked the T'Railway Trail in Newfoundland.  It was completely quiet - no human sounds, no animal noises, no wind, just silence.  It was cool and dry, the perfect conditions for leaving the tent doors open to see the blanket of stars above.  Just before midnight a huge half moon appeared, lighting the forested slopes around us.  What a wonderful night.

We awoke to a still, silent, warm morning with hazy blue skies.  After packing up, we enjoyed our morning coffee while sitting at the picnic table in the shelter (what luxury!) and taking in the spectacular view.  As the sun rose, and the shadows of the mountains sunk down the treed slopes opposite, the sky turned a soft pink and the hills below turned to gold.  I wish we could have prolonged those few peaceful moments!

Instead, we set off up the rail trail to discover what today had in store for us.  Over the first 10 km on the Great Trail we made the final climb up to Farron.  The gravel road wound back and forth along the side of the steep slopes.  In many places we passed through chutes of golden, pink, or grey rock where the railway had cut straight through the cliffs.  In other sections the trees on the downhill side of the road opened up and we could see across the sun soaked valley to the logged slopes opposite.

We had expected the grade of the rail trail to increase as we neared the summit, but in fact it seems to level off a little.  In this stretch we crossed a road with many signs warning of active logging operations, and a short distance later we spotted a Canadian flag flapping gently at the side of the road up ahead.  This was our first clue that we had arrived at the historic station of Farron, which is located at the highest point on the C&W Rail Trail at 1,121 m above sea level.

There was another covered picnic table, a fire pit, and a pit toilet, and we gratefully headed over to take a break in the shade of the red-roofed shelter and read the historical plaques inside.  Just as we were climbing up the drive to the shelter a pickup truck pulled up on the road, and the driver got out and walked over for a chat.  It turned out it was the president of the C&W Trail Society! 

Over the next few minutes we learned a lot about the trail and the communities along it.  The man spoke of the incredible maintenance challenges facing a remote mountain trail like this, and the resulting need to provide motorized vehicle access along it.  We had been marvelling at the engineering feats along this trail, and it made sense that maintaining 82 culverts, trestles, and tunnels in an area with regular avalanches, rock slides, floods, fires, and frequent wear would be a monumental task requiring heavy machinery.  It seems that in this case the rest stops and historical signage have been donated, built, and kept up by volunteers in the local communities and the logging companies in the area, while the Ministry of Forests and logging companies keep the roads and infrastructure up and running.  It just goes to show that while trails intended for non-motorized vehicle use only may be a worthwhile dream, in some areas they are most definitely not a practical reality.

The historical station which used to be located at the summit of the Monashees was a maintenance centre, storage facility, a turning site for pusher engines, it had a water tank, and there was an engine house, a coal bin, and a house for CPR workers.  In addition to serving the railway, this centre of operations also used to support nearby mining and logging operations in Bonanza Pass and the Burnt Basin Plateau.

After our break at Farron we began the long descent.  The president of C&W had just told us that this was the longest hill any CP train in Canada had to climb - 53 km!  This must have been quite a feat, but for us it was much easier going on the downward side!  For a while we clipped along at a good pace, following the light gray line of the trail as it curved down through thickly forested hills, bordered by lush plants that were just beginning to turn yellow and red for the fall.

At km 53 we came to a historical plaque informing us that we were passing very close to the place where a train had mysteriously exploded on October 29, 1924, killing Peter V. Verigin and eight others.   Peter Verigin was the leader of the Doukhobours, a group of Christian Pacifists of Russian descent who migrated to the Boundary region of British Columbia from Verigin, Saskatchewan.  Under his leadership, the Christian Community of Universal Brotherhood became the largest communal enterprise in North America.  The bomb on the train was certainly meant to kill Peter V. Verigin, but who planted it and why remains a mystery to this day.  We had read this history when we visited the Doukhobour National Historic Site in Saskatchewan last year, having no idea at the time that we would also walk past the spot where Peter Verigin died.

About half an hour later we unexpectedly came to Merry Siding.  At this location, Bill Merry set up a sawmill in 1924, and built homes for himself and John Popoff, his mill foreman and sawyer.  The sawmill was made possible by the railway, which provided it with a loading spur.  It was operational until 1930, when it was relocated to Sheep Creek.  As we looked around the only signs we could see of this history was a grassy meadow with the remains of a few foundations.  We would never have guessed that so many structures had once stood at that spot, and that so many people had lived, worked, and been born there.

On a more practical note, Merry Siding also had a picnic table at the side of a small creek. A small wooden footbridge lead across McRae Creek, apparently to a trailhead that led into Gladstone Provincial Park.  This 39,387 hectare park is located at the end of Christina Lake in the Monashee Mountains.  It was established in 1995 when the former Ole Johnson and Texas Creek parks were amalgamated.  It offers opportunities for camping, fishing, kayaking, canoeing, and hiking on its 48 km of trails.  It was created in part as a reserve for blue-listed California bighorn sheep and red-listed Northern leopard frogs.

It has been a little difficult finding water along this trail, so we took the opportunity to refill our water bottles from the small stream at Merry Siding.  We suspect that if we were here earlier in the season there would be no shortage of water, but in October most of the streams and riverbeds we pass are bone dry right now.

Around 1:30 pm we came to a sign indicating we had reached Paulson.  At one time it was a community that featured a general store, horse stables, and a hotel.  The railway siding was named after the two brothers who owned the general store.  Once again, there was very little evidence of the past left, but we were standing at the edge of a small stream, where two picnic tables had been placed among the trees.  It would have made an excellent place to camp, at the edge of a beautiful marsh.  However, after enjoying a small snack we continued on.

As we rounded a curve in the trail we could suddenly hear the roar and sounds of Highway 3 ahead of us.  We continued our descent, winding between increasingly steep forested slopes that rose up high above our heads.  Soon we crossed a paved road, and then rounded a bend to see a blue trestle bridge spanning the valley high above our heads.   The Paulson Bridge is part of the Crowsnest Highway (Highway 3), and it was completed in 1962.  It is 258 m long, and spans McRae Creek and the C&W Railway at a height of 275 m.  From below it certainly looked very impressive!

From here we followed the trail around the valley, its rocky sides extending up above us, and the river winding along unseen far below us in the forested valley.  Soon we came to the Paulson Tunnel.  Its reinforced mouth looked very impressive, and it curved in the middle so when we looked inside we couldn't see the other end.  Thankfully (for Sean’s sake) it didn't turn out to be very long, but the novelty of going through tunnels still hasn't worn off for at least one of us.

By this point is was late in the afternoon, and the sun was both very hot and shining directly into our eyes. We arrived at Coryell, where we were happy to discover another covered picnic table, around 4:00 pm.  It was a little early to call it a day, but we were hot, getting tired, and there was a water source less than 1 km behind us which was easily accessible. Unsure of what exactly lay ahead, or of the distances listed on the map, which didn't seem to make sense compared to our measurements and hiking apps, we decided to stop for the night.

At one point, the town of Gladstone had stood near the spot where we are now camping.  Mining prospects in the Burnt Basin led to the development of the town site, but no active mines were developed and it began to fade until the railway station gave it new life in 1900. It lasted another decade before mining activity in the region ceased, but the station remained.  It boasted a section house and a water tank fed by nearby Coryell Creek.

We are surrounded by beautiful scenery here.  Tucked into a river valley, we can see the incredibly steep slopes of Mount Gladstone opposite us, which have recently been cleared by a forest fire.  A blanket of stars is shining above us, and a slight breeze is rustling the cottonwood trees around us.  It would be perfectly peaceful, except for the unceasing roar of traffic on Highway 3.  Walking the C&W Rail Trail has been a wonderful experience, and it has made me appreciate the value of living tucked away in a peaceful valley somewhere, seemingly far away from the roar of civilization.

 

 

See you on the trail!

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