Uncertain and Unwanted : Little Dipper to Beaverdell

This morning was very chilly, making us glad to be sheltered under the canopy of pines in our cozy little campsite.  Although the sun was already lighting up the hills around us, our fingers and toes in frozen shoes were painfully cold as we set off down the paved road, heading northwards along the Kettle Valley Rail Trail.

We ventured out this morning with great uncertainty about what might come next.  Over the past week we have received a number of emails, messages and talked to local residents warning us that neither hikers nor cyclists are welcome in the coming stretch of the Kettle Valley Rail Trail and  Trans Canada Trail.   We have been told stories of cyclists being injured by dogs, motorized users pushing cyclists off the trail, and of other similar confrontations.  This is of course not the first time we have stumbled into regional tensions between motorized and non-motorized trail users - yet each time is filled with great uncertainty for us.  As always however you never really know until you have explored and experienced in person and so this morning we once again ventured into the unknown.

Not long after leaving the campground we passed the a local ranch, which was home to a small flock of sheep and an improbable number of dogs. Our passing started them barking, and at one point the owner came out to see what the noise was and to open the property gate.  As a result for several minutes we had a number of howling dogs snapping at our heals as we pushed on.  Throughout it all the owner stood there smiling and laughing.  Needless to say it was not a great beginning to the day.

Following the Blythe-Rhone Rd, we crossed the river on a small trestle bridge.  The tall trees on either side of the waterway were reflected almost perfectly in the still, smooth, mirror-like surface of the river.

A few kilometres into our walk the pathway left the paved road and diverted onto the hard packed gravel rail trail.  As we would discover today, our route would weave alternating between being on local roadways, Highway 33 and alongside the Kettle River.  The wide, shallow, rocky bed of the river was almost empty beside us, only a tiny trickle of water flowing along at its center.  Even as the sun lit the conifer covered slopes around us a large moon was still visible in the bright blue sky above us.

Shortly we climbed up to the Rhone or Bull Creek Canyon.  Here the river had cut a deep gorge through a rocky obstruction in the valley.  We looked down over the steep sides of the gorge to the calm black waters far below.  Although the river appeared still and almost mirror-like on this sunny morning, apparently in the spring it becomes a roaring torrent that can be heard from some distance down the trail.

A little farther along the narrow gorge we came to a swimming hole.  This looked like an inviting spot to cool off during the heat of the summer months.  Although the sun was beginning to warm things up on this sunny autumn morning, it wasn't nearly hot enough to make going for a swim even remotely tempting.

Continuing on we followed the gravel track through a forested corridor of green, still meandering along beside the river.  Forested slopes rose up on either side.  While the scenery was very pleasant, we began to notice some slightly disturbing signs along the trail.  One was a 'No Trespassing' sign that showed a picture of an assault rifle, while another was a sign with a target noting underneath 'We don't call 911'.  We also began to spot stickers stuck to all the KVR and Trans Canada Trail  markers, which said 'No hikin’, Go bikin' with a picture of a dirt bike on them.

En route we would pass ATVers standing in their vehicles and firing into the woods and so we would repeatedly find shot gun shells scattered along the trail in more than location.  In addition at one point we were told off by two men in a truck who stopped and yelled at us "to get off the trail 'cause King Harper gave it to the ATVers".  They went on to proclaim that they would not "let hikers or cyclists steal more of the trail from them!"  Shortly afterwards we began to find graffiti on local trail signage with comments such as 'Kill Hikers' and 'Hit Bikers' written in marker.

Although the trail was supposed to be for non-motorized users only in this section, it had been thoroughly churned up by ATVs.  Even the traditional non-motorized gates had either been pulled out by trucks or had sand ramps built over them.   As the day wore on several drivers sped past, dressed head to toe in camouflage, kitted out in full body armour, and carrying multiple weapons strapped to themselves and their vehicles.  None of the drivers slowed down in the slightest when they saw us, one swore and gave us the finger, while the others sped past without even seeming to notice us.  By the end of the first few hours on the trail we were thoroughly covered in dust and feeling entirely unwanted in this region. 

These small indicators combined to give us a rather uneasy feeling.  We've experienced this same type of conflict many times before as we've crossed the country.  Usually it occurs most obviously at the edges of expanding or developing towns or regions, where rural communities are getting pushed out or feel beset by new rules as cities grow.  I can personally accept rules as a necessary part of living in a functioning society that serves the needs of multiple interests, and as a conservation biologist I am never in favour of unnecessary destruction in nature.  However, there is a part of me that can appreciate resenting constantly being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and what not to do, even when we're out in the middle of nowhere and seemingly on your own.

I think this resentment is getting worse at the moment, especially in the growing number of people whose interests are not being addressed by the system.  In this stretch of trail we passed many dirt ATV tracks and access points leading down to impromptu clearings where mobile homes or small shanties had been tucked into the woods.  These encampments often included large piles of decaying vehicles, dysfunctional appliances, and other odds and ends that were defended by tough looking guard dogs, barbed wire fencing, or threatening versions of 'No Trespassing' signs.

It is easy to dismiss the occupants of these half hidden mobile homes as lazy layabouts or misfits who failed out of a system they couldn't hack or simply refused to support. However, as we've walked west it has become increasingly clear that a rapidly growing number of hard working and fully employed people, or retired folks who have worked for 40 years in respectable jobs, are now living in tents and RVs across the country, desperately trying to hang on and avoid living on the  streets.  Affordable housing for people earning minimum wage, or people living off pensions they payed into decades ago, doesn't exist across much of Canada.  Even teachers and skilled trades people often don't earn enough to cover rent, bills, and food with the result being that as they chase monthly contracts across the country they are pushed to live in motels or in mobile homes rather than put down roots.   With nowhere else to go, many adopt a nomadic lifestyle, and some are moving further into the woods, using logging roads and trails as well as recreation areas to find 'free' spots to live.  There are long stretches of the Kettle Valley Rail Trail, as well as other portions of the Trans Canada Trail across the nation, that are being used as access points for people that have either been left behind by the system, or have chosen to opt out of it by venturing down local concessions or pathways and cutting out a small patch of land to park and live on.

In many places this alternative culture is accompanied by a defensiveness that manifests into disregard for the rules, which unfortunately also is often accompanied by a lack of respect for trail users.  In these areas it often feels like we're walking into the middle of a fight.  Inevitably, today we embarked on the same discussion we've had many times - is it actually possible to have a truly multiuse trail?  Can the trail needs of hikers, cyclists and motorized vehicles all be met and maintained on the same pathway?  How do you establish a respectful trail culture for all users?

For many, the purpose of an ATV is to go fast, and to navigate 'all terrains' without limitations of any kind. This activity isn't really compatible with a multi-use trail, which has to be governed by certain rules if it is to work as a shared space.  Even in sections of the TCT where the ATV community is very active in maintaining or building the trail, and there is a culture of respect, the trail surface is often either good for motorized vehicles but not great for hiking or cycling (i.e., sharp, deep, gravel of T'Railway Trail in Newfoundland), or it was better for hiking and cycling but has been turned to loose sand or deep, rutted mud by ATVs (many sections of the KVR).   Therefore we are left with the question - is a multiuse trail even practically possible if it isn't paved? 

In some ways, this debate is mute, because it is obvious from the ripped out concrete barriers at trail heads, the shot up signs and information plaques, and the destruction of wire fencing and metal gates that it is impossible to actually prevent motorized vehicles from accessing recreational trails.  More than this such destruction seems to actually delight a certain small group of motorized trail users.  This is not only a problem for trail users, but also wildlife. As people begin to infiltrate the forest, cutting firewood, clearing small properties, and creating tracks that extend farther and farther into the wilderness, wildlife have fewer places to feed and breed undisturbed, hunters and edge-associated predators get father in, and species that rely on large tracks of undisturbed or old-growth forest are negatively affected. The scientific term for this situation is 'edge effect' and it reflects the changes which occur along the boundaries of ecosystems or populations as a result of being along the edge and becoming more accessible which alters the regional dynamic.

These were the thoughts that occupied our minds as we made our way down the treed corridor of the rail trail.  About mid-afternoon we came across a pretty clear example of how edge effects can alter habitat.  We noticed a large dump truck on the trail ahead, and as we approached we realized it was driven by a man who was loading it with earth in one field, driving slowly down the trail for about 500 m, and depositing the soil in another clearing.  It was a laborious process, and while I'm sure there must have been some purpose behind terraforming the landscape, it wasn't at all apparent.

As the afternoon wore on, we continued to follow the treed track as it wove along beside the Kettle River.  We passed signs for Big Goat Creek and Dellwye, but failed to find any remaining signs of the rail stations that once stood at these spots.  Otherwise, our walk in the afternoon was largely uneventful.

At one point the trail diverted out onto a paved road.  We tried ignoring the signs and continuing down the overgrown trail, but a couple hundred meters along we came to a thoroughly rotted out bridge that offered no simple way across.  Shortly beyond this obstacle it was increasingly clear that local landowners had taken over the trailway as part of their own properties.  As such we eventually had to turn back to the road.  It took us through a rural landscape of farms and ranches, and soon we passed a sign for a B&B.  The ranch looked nice, but the smell of marijuana hung heavy in the air, and two dogs came charging out of a nearby property, chasing after us down the road and snapping and nipping at our heels as their owners shouted angrily after us.  All I could think was what a unique way to run a hospitality business.

Our walk along the hot, sunny, exposed road continued for a few kilometres.  Eventually we found ourselves at the edge of Beaverdell, where we passed a sawmill and an abandoned mill where ore from the Highland Silver Mine used to be processed.  Silver was discovered there in 1897, and the mine remained active until 1987.  Beaverdell was an official station on the KVR from 1915 to 1978.  Ore from the nearby Wallace Mountain was shipped through beginning in 1919, heading for the smelter in Trail.  When the railway pulled out and the mine closed down little was left to keep the community going.

At the edge of town, our feelings of unease from the day increased.  Every home had a 'No Trespassing' sign, a prominently displayed security camera (or three), or it was boarded and barricaded up around the outside.  One small mobile home, which was surrounded by a very elaborate and large barricade, had a large hand printed billboard outside stating that the occupant had been assaulted and that it had taken the RCMP five days to respond, so the barricades were the result.  This unfortunate incident explained the one home, but not what was going on in the rest of town, or the highly suspicious looks we were receiving on the way through.  

Moving on through Beaverdell there was an historic looking General store that was established in 1904 on the main street, a garage, and somewhere in town was the oldest operating hotel in BC.  We made our way to the campground, only to find it and the ice cream store were closed.  Luckily, the general store, which was our last opportunity to resupply before Penticton, was open and well stocked. We did the shopping while trying to decide what to do.

In the end we stayed in a small wooden cabin in the middle of town for the night.  While costly, it was an opportunity to dry out our gear, to spend one night out of the damp and cold, and to have a little more protection than the tent offers. 

Today reminded us that just as the Trans Canada Trail is not one path with a single experience so too are sections of it like the Kettle Valley Rail Trail not a single route as the advertisements for Myra Canyon and Cycling the KVR suggest.

As we settled in this evening the uncertainty of the region remained.  After setting our dirty gear outside someone came to our cabin, knocked on the door and demand to know who we were (though never clarifying who they were).    An hour later as the sun began to set our 'neighbours' drove in, backed up, moved our gear out of the way and strung up a dead deer to drain of blood on the corner of our cabin rather than their own.  

Some days in trekking across Canada the experiences we are part of never fail to amaze us.

See you on the trail!

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