How We Define Ourselves : Cassidy to Chemainus

Nov 17^th, 2022

When we woke up this morning we had no idea how interesting or thought provoking our next day on the Trans Canada Trail would turn out to be, ultimately leading us to question how we define ourselves, our country, and our trek across this country.   However, it began simply enough, when we set out into the frosty morning air of a clear and sunny day in Cassidy.  The town was named after Thomas Cassidy who had a farm and homestead in the area during the 1870's.  During construction of the railway from 1884-1886 he supplied the railway workers' camps that grew up along the Nanaimo River with milk and vegetables.  In 1942 Cassidy's son sold some of the land to the Department of National Defence, who established a Royal Canadian Air Force glider pilot training facility on it.  Today that location is home to the Nanaimo Airport, and the town has developed into a bedroom community for Nanaimo.

We made our way back up to the Cowichan Valley Trail, finding another trail head on the side of a paved road just uphill from a pub and liquor store which seemed to be (already? still?) open for business, even though it was only 8 am.   A sign indicated that improvements were underway to the parking lot and trail, with safer connections being proposed between the existing sections of pathway.  Feeling grateful to all the organizations and volunteers who made this trek possible in one way or another, we began climbing the Hazlam Trail, a dirt footpath that ran along a hydro corridor.

Although hydro corridors may not always spring to mind when you think of places to spend time in nature, we found ourselves surrounded by stunning beauty.  A thick layer of frost covered everything and the long, sharp ice crystals sparkled in the bright morning light.  The outlines and veins of the red and yellow leaves that covered the path, some of which were the size of dinner plates, where edged in a thick layer of white.  Delicate outlines of dark green ferns were thickened and blurred by the tiny, sharp crystals.  The dried stalks of last autumn's flowers were crowned in rings of white.  Underfoot, feathery patterns laced the frozen puddles as our boots crunched along.  The frozen, sparkling white landscape was dazzling in the pale morning sunshine.

Eventually we left the hydro corridor behind, and turned south again onto an old tree-lined logging road.  The wide gravel surface was interrupted by huge puddles, the muddy brown water too deep to freeze.  As we picked our way carefully around the edges we were reminded once again of the beginning of our trek, when we encountered many such puddles on the T'Railway Trail in Newfoundland.  As on that other island, all the way across a continent, the forested slopes around us were mostly quiet as we made our way along, the only sounds those of a Common Raven giving its iconic call into the cold morning air.

We knew we were supposed to begin the 128 km long Cowichan Valley Rail Trail this morning, which is a popular cycling route on the island, and is well known for its eight iconic railway trestles, as well as its stunning scenery, wineries, and opportunities to visit multiple communities along its length.  As a result, we were expecting another trailhead, possibly with another parking lot.  Instead, we found ourselves in a network of unmarked logging roads and paths that wove through the quiet, remote, forested mountain landscape.  Apart from one tiny, original Trans Canada Trail sign, there was no indication of our route through the maze of logged slopes, which at one point crossed the yard of some undefined natural resource extraction business.  We used the Backroads Map App, which works well even in the absence of cell service to avoid getting lost.

Soon we found ourselves on a wide gravel track, surrounded on both sides by tall, old, conifers.  It felt good to be walking in the cold morning air, surrounded by an almost silent expanse of forested mountains.  As the frost began to melt the sunlight filtering down through the trees made glowing golden shafts in the delicate mist.  Last time we'd seen such strongly defined bands of sunlight we were walking towards an active and brand new forest fire under an eerie orange light, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe in the thick smoke and debating fiercely whether we should turn around or continue on along the Kettle Valley Rail Trail to Arlington Lake.  Our past experiences made us appreciate the fresh, cold, crisp air around us all the more.

After another moment of confusion regarding our route, we decided we were supposed to follow a road that was blocked to vehicles by a metal gate.  A plethora of signs indicated the land on either side was private property, that trespassing was prohibited, and that the road was actively used by logging trucks seven days per week.  Reassured by the closed gate and the pervading quiet, we continued on, soon coming to an open area that had very recently been heavily logged.  A steady drumming above alerted us to the presence of a Red-breasted Sapsucker climbing the side of a small tree at the edge of the clearing.  Even with so few days left, and so late in the season, we'd spotted a new species for our #Hike4Birds!

Excited by our new find, we continued down the trail, which looked like a glowing golden tunnel weaving through the forest.  Frost still lay thick on the ground in this stretch, turning the trail into a sparkling line of white that contrasted spectacularly with the warm reds, browns, and coppery yellows of the fall foliage. Around this ribbon of light the dark conifers towered, lending a fresh, tangy, sweet smell to the air.

Suddenly we rounded a bend and came to a beautiful wooden pedestrian bridge over Bush Creek. On the far side was a trail head for the Cowichan Valley Trail!  A highly stylized map of the route at the bottom of the sign made us smile - the graphic looked like the maps for many transit systems in North America and Europe, including those for GO Transit and the TTC in Toronto.  We could see our future destinations laid out like stops on a subway line, which wasn't something we'd seen before on a trail sign.

Regional Trans Canada Trail Map

Toronto Transit Map

From the small parking lot, hikers also had access to the Christie Falls Trail, a roughly four kilometre loop up to what looked on the interpretive sign like a beautiful waterfall.  Since we still had around 14 km of the Cowichan Valley Trail left to cover today, we decided against exploring further, but we did enjoy a mini waterfall just upstream from the bridge that was visible from our trail.

A small cluster of buildings on the far side of the parking area turned out to be the Ladysmith Sportsman's Club and Bush Creek Hatchery.  The club was established in 1944, and its volunteers have run a salmon hatchery to rebuild coho and chum stocks in local creeks, and worked on improving salmon habitat in area ever since. The sign indicated that volunteers and visitors were always welcome at the facility, but the place seemed to be deserted, so we didn't stop to investigate.

As we continued on down the forested gravel road we soon discovered that the salmon hatchery wasn't the only research being done in the area.  Many of the conifers on either side of the trail were tagged, which piqued our interest.  A large billboard some distance into the trees explained that research was being done on western white pine in the area.  Apparently a pathogen was introduced from Europe at the turn of the 20th century that nearly wiped out the western white pine.  The stand we were walking through was planted in 1988 to test the resistance of several species of pines when planted in the vicinity of different kinds of currents, which are part of the pathogen's life cycle.

Eventually the quiet logging road brought us out onto a winding, paved road that snaked down towards the community of Ladysmith.  Thankfully the trail followed a secondary road lined with homes tucked under a canopy of tall trees, rather than taking us back out onto the Trans Canada Highway, which ran parallel to it.  Ladysmith, which was originally called Oyster Harbour, is a town of over 8,000 people which offers all the modern amenities.  It was founded in 1898 by James Dunsmuir, a year after he built shipping wharves in the harbour to export coal from the mines at Extension and Wellington.  Dunsmuir owned several coal mines in the Nanaimo area, and founded the town to house the miners and their families.  He renamed the community in 1902 in honour of the British lifting the siege of Ladysmith in South Africa during the Second Boer War.  When the coal mine industry folded in the 1930's, the main industries in the area shifted to forestry, tourism, and agriculture.

We were making our way down a charming, tree-lined street when we got a cool surprise. On the bricked courtyard outside the Ladysmith Air Cadets lodge was an historical plaque and modern wooden monument denoting the 49th parallel.  It turns out that the town of Ladysmith is located right on the invisible line that separates much of Canada from the United States.  This section of the international border, which runs just over 2,000 km from the Strait of Georgia to Lake of the Woods, MB was specified in the Anglo-American Convention of 1818, reaffirmed in the Oregon Treaty of 1846, and ratified in 1902 by the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom.

During the Treaty of 1818, which was held to resolve lingering boundary disputes following the War of 1812, it was determined that the watershed between the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers on one side, and the Hudson Bay Basin on the other should form the boundary between British North America and the United States of America.  However, establishing exactly where this boundary lay was extremely complicated for surveyors on the ground, especially in the flat prairie region. Therefore, a simpler solution was agreed upon - to use the 49th parallel between Lake of the Woods and the Rocky Mountains.  For many, the 49th parallel has become synonymous with the longest undefended border in the world, and a defining line between the American 'melting pot' and the Canadian 'mosaic'.

However, as a Canadian Geographic article by Will Ferguson notes, in many ways the 49th parallel “defies all common sense….it is a solution that causes more problems than it solves, it plays havoc with water reservoirs and mountain routes along the way…it disregards older political boundaries….trade routes,….cultural and territorial contours.”  In short, it follows neither geographic nor topographic features, and Ferguson asserts that not a single Indigenous cultural group is entirely contained within Canada's borders. 

Just as curious, despite the 49th parallel being considered Canada's southern border, around 72% of Canadians actually live south of this defining line.  Only three provincial capitals are located north of it (Winnipeg, Regina, and Edmonton), whereas Canada's two largest cities (Toronto and Montreal), as well as the nation's capital (Ottawa) are located south of it.  Obviously, Vancouver Island is another exception to the 49th parallel, with the southern portion of the island that falls below the line remaining part of Canada.  So, it would seem that we've come to define our country based on a political boundary that ignores the complexities and realities of our nation.  When viewed this way, the 49th parallel seems like a good reminder that how we define ourselves is often a complex process that can be fraught with inaccurate generalizations and inherent contradictions.  It was both unexpected and very interesting to gain this new perspective as we reach the final days of our east-west trek, especially while our minds are dwelling on questions we're frequently being asked, like 'What have you learned along the way? What was your favourite part?  What stood out along the way? What is Canada?

So, as we entered Ladysmith we unexpectedly crossed below the 49th parallel before taking a welcome coffee break at Tim Hortons on the other side.  From there the Cowichan Valley Trail crossed the Trans Canada Highway (thankfully at a crosswalk), and continued down to the waterfront.  A large parking lot marked our entrance to the Ladysmith Harbour, where a truly enormous lumber yard was located.  Huge log booms were tethered to the far shore of the inlet, and a small army of machines was being used to create more on the near shore side.  A barge improbably loaded with a towering pile of logs crossed the bay in front of us.  I had always wondered how the kilometre long log booms were sewn together so they could withstand the high wind and waves of the Strait, and I could have happily stayed and watched the activity all afternoon.  However, time was ticking by.

Instead, we continued to follow the walkway along the shore, which was lined with historic marine artifacts, including old machinery, buoys, and a tug boat, each accompanied by an interpretive plaque to explain its importance.  A short set of steps led up to a forested rail trail that continued along the coast, which was still bordered by the metal rails.  Lots of people were out walking their dogs on this pleasant pathway, which afforded beautiful views over the marina, where rows of white sailboats were reflected in the smooth blue water of the narrow harbour below us.

Eventually we came out onto Transfer Beach Park, a wide open grassy area with an amphitheatre, a pavilion, play ground, beach, and a beautifully carved wooden canoe created by the Stz'uminus First Nation called the 'Salish Wind.'  Ancestors of the Stz'uminus First Nation have lived on the lands where Ladysmith is now situated for around 5,000 years, travelling the coast of Vancouver Island and along mainland BC in canoes.  The canoe was created by master carver Manny Sampson to symbolize how the harbour connects the Stz'uminus and Ladysmith communities and highlight the benefits of 'pulling together' and collaborating as the two groups move forward together.

From Transfer Beach the official Cowichan Trail route crossed back over the Trans Canada Highway, climbed back up into the residential neighbourhoods west of there, and then crossed back down onto Highway 1A.  However, the abandoned rail line continued straight onward from the park, rejoining with the official route about 3 km further along.  It was clear that locals frequently used the line as a walking route, both from the well-worn path along its edge and from dog walkers who were out using it in the bright afternoon sunshine.  Instead of crossing and re-crossing the highway, we decided to take the local route, and follow the rail line which ran down a green corridor between the highway and a modern subdivision.

We rejoined the official Cowichan Valley Trail at Highway 1A, which was a busy, undulating, winding, paved road that followed the coastline.  Luckily there was a cycling lane and/or sidewalk along its length to keep us separated from the traffic.  For the next 3 km we trekked along the treed coastline, passing many houses tucked in along the steep slope both above and below the road.  A lot of them had the feel of older homes that had been there before the road grew so busy.  As with many coastal areas in BC, newer subdivisions were being built along the coast as well.  One of these new neighbourhoods was named 'Saltair' leading us to momentarily believe we had already reached a larger community of the same name that is farther along the coast.  Sadly, we had not.

Just before we reached the actual community of Saltair, which has a population of just over 2,000 people, and is known for its vibrant artist community, gorgeous scenery, and surrounding farmland, we left the road and the coast behind and diverted back onto a trail.  Surprisingly, the paved cycling and hiking path was directly beside the abandoned railway tracks instead of on the rail bed, suggesting that there must still be hopes of resurrecting an active train line across the island.  This suspicion was confirmed by signs and gates indicating cyclists must dismount when crossing the tracks, because it was an active train route.  The overgrown, rusty, and in places missing rails told a different story.

We soon found ourselves surrounded by lush, bright green hay fields, pastures, and farmland.  Picturesque barns dotted the landscape, and the sun was beginning to set behind a tall, steep, forested hill.  As horizontal shafts of sunlight lit the fields, the dark blue shadow cast by the surrounding hills crept ever closer and the temperature began to drop.  Despite this, we decided to take a short break on a concrete retaining wall and enjoy the pleasant pastoral setting.

Quite a few people were out jogging and walking their dogs, and one lady stopped to ask about our trek.  When we explained what we were doing, we received the now familiar response "Did you know a woman and her dog just finished the whole trail?" However, when we said yes, she unexpectedly went on to ask "Then why did you copy her?  How many people are doing this? Are there people just wandering around everywhere?” Without waiting long enough for us to formulate a response to these somewhat brazen questions, she then asked "If you're not the first, then what's the point anyway?" before turning on her heel and walking away.  Several companies we've approached for gear sponsorship have rejected our request based on the fact that we aren't the first to complete the trail, but this was the first time we'd encountered this attitude from someone we met in person along the way, and it left us a little stunned.

We'd spent much of the day thinking about the 49th parallel, and how Canada has come to define itself and be defined.  Often we seem to settle on Canada is 'not America,' but an absence clearly falls short of a definition.  As this woman so neatly pointed out, our own trek seems to have been relegated to 'not the first to finish'.  I know we're biased, but we feel there's more to us and our journey, and much more to Canada, than that.  For one thing, no single definition can fully encompass what it means to be Canadian, and no single story can describe what it's like to walk across a continent.  Each person who walks this trail does so for their own reasons, driven by their own goals and interests, informed by their own situation and past experiences, subject to their own fears and limitations, and completely at the mercy of the awesome power of nature.  How our journeys unfold has nothing to do with anyone else on the trail, or whether or not we are first to finish.  We believe that each journey has something unique and valuable to offer.

Strangely, unlike walking more popular trails, we often find ourselves called on to justify why walking across Canada is worthwhile.  Thousands of people hike the Camino routes in Europe, the Appalachian, Pacific Crest, and Continental Divide Trails in the US, and many other pathways around the world each year.  Clearly, people recognize or simply accept the value of trekking those routes, even though they are not the first to do so, and many others have already vlogged those experiences.  From the beginning, our message has been that exploration is a mindset, not something that comes from being first.  If you are curious, willing to ask questions, eager to go beyond what you think you know to find answers, open to learning something new from everyone and everything you meet, then you can be an explorer in your own neighbourhood.  You may not be the first to walk your local trails, but that doesn't mean there's nothing left to discover.  We may not be the first to walk from the Atlantic to the Pacific on the Trans Canada Trail, but no one has done so while photographing, blogging, birding, and sharing the journey in order to make Canada better known to Canadians and the world.  Even if we walked the same route again, with the same goals, it would be an entirely different journey, offering new experiences, new stories, and new perspectives.

With these thoughts still circling in our minds long after the woman had stalked off, we followed the treed rail trail into the outskirts of Chemainus.  Neighbourhoods began to spring up on either side of the trail, and the pathway became busier.  We spotted several carved wooden owls attached to tree trunks along the trailside, and paused to admire some truly enormous leaves that were blanketing the trail bed.  We also spotted some inspirational rock art that seemed to be offering us encouragement as we come ever closer to the end of our westward journey.

Chemainus is a community of over 3,000 people which began in 1858 as a lumber town.  It is named after "Tsa-meeun-is" a Penelakut First Nation elder, whose name translates as 'broken chest.'  According to the legend, Tsa-meeun-is was shot in the chest with an arrow during a battle, but survived his massive wound to become a powerful chief.  His community took his name, becoming the Stz'uminus First Nation.

The first sawmill was established near Chemainus in 1862, and there is a now a working replica of its water wheel and a painting of it outside the Tourism Centre on the main square of the charming, historical downtown. Following modernization of local lumber mills in 1982, and the deep recession that BC's forest industry experienced around that time, the town took steps to bolster tourism and employment opportunities in the area.  One strategy was to hire local artists to paint murals around the town, creating the 'World's Largest Outdoor Art Gallery' depicting important people, historical moments, and local culture from the area.  Today Chemainus is famous for its 53 outdoor murals, which are scattered throughout the downtown core.  Visitors are encouraged to follow a set of yellow footsteps along the sidewalks for a self-guided tour.

Since we wanted to check out the artwork in the downtown core, and we were planning to spend the night in Chemainus, we diverted off the trail to explore downtown.  There was a colourful, creative, artistic vibe as we made our way into the beautifully landscaped downtown square, and soon discovered that the famous murals were complimented with numerous sculptures and other outdoor art exhibits as well.  One of these was a striking tribute to the Canadian artist Emily Carr, which was located on the edge of the main square.

Emily Carr was born in 1871 in Victoria, BC, and was one of the earliest chroniclers of life in British Columbia.  Her early work was inspired by the Indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast. In 1910 she travelled to Paris, France to study painting, but on her return to Canada her work was perceived as being too radical, and wasn’t well received.  Following an exhibit at the National Gallery in Ottawa she was introduced to the Group of Seven, and her subsequent work was heavily influenced by them, particularly Lawren Harris.  She painted landscapes in the modernist and post-modernist styles, and is now considered a Canadian icon.  Emily Carr was being celebrated in the square as a famous local artist, and also because one of her paintings is of Chemainus Bay.

After checking out the artwork in the tiny Emily Carr exhibit, we wandered some of the streets and alleys of Chemainus, following the footsteps painted on the sidewalk to direct visitors on a self-guided tour of the murals.  We passed one titled 'Rebirth' by Maynard Johnny Jr, the bold reds and blacks of the stylized Coastal Salish artwork hanging opposite a scene by Sandy Clark, which showed the arrival of HMS Reindeer at Chemainus in 1869.  Another scene by Dan Sawatzky, called 'The Company Store' showed the inside of the Victoria Lumber and Manufacturing Co. Store circa 1917.  Just down the street a mural by the same artist depicted Hockey on Fullers Lake, while nearby a mural by David Goatley commemorated the fallen heroes from WWI.

The center piece of the mural walk was Heritage Square, which is described as a 'Meeting Place for all People.'  A huge mural by Paul Ygartua is painted on one side of the square, which depicts Ce-who-latza, who was a Chief of the Lyackson Village on Shingle Point, Valdes Island, a police constable, and a pilot for the Royal Navy, a Chemainus Band Chief named Clay-sa-luke, and a Salish woman.  Heritage square is watched over by a white stone sculpture of the 'Spirit of the Earth' by Daniel Cline, which shows an Indigenous woman whose robes are adorned with the animals that inhabit Vancouver Island, including an orca, an eagle, and salmon.  Bronze statues of two thoughtful young men sit beside a small reflecting pool, where a plaque tells the story of two strangers who visited Chemainus in 1913 and were duped by the locals into going on a snipe hunt in the woods nearby.  The two strangers waited for several hours with lanterns and open sacs before they realized the villagers were playing a prank on them.

After exploring Chemainus, as the light began to fade, we made our way out the far side of town to the motel where we are spending the night.  It had been a long day, filled with tough questions.  We end it feeling that definitions can both help and hinder us.  In one way, they help us understand ourselves and the world.  However, they can also lead us to make assumptions, miss important details and nuances, and presume we know something without actually observing it or learning from it.  In Canada, for many years we have defined ourselves through the American perspective.  Similarly, on this trek we have often been compared and contrasted to those intrepid souls who came before us – Dana Meise, Sara Jackson, Dianne Whelan and Mel Vogel.  Just as Canada should not simply be seen through the lens of the 49^th parallel, or as “not American,” we feel our trek, and those that will come after us, should not be so easily dismissed  as “copycats" who are simply doing something that's already been done.  Our country, our trail, and each person who decides to walk it, are so much more than these simple categorizations.

See you on the trail!

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