British Columbia Magazine - Fall 2023

2023 PHOTO CONTEST WINNERS REVEALED

The Wines of Change

IN THE MIDST of chaos, there is also opportunity—or so said Sun Tzu. And if there was ever one word that could be used to describe the weather patterns we have experienced recently in British Columbia, “chaos” would be as good as any.

We have all experienced more extreme heat and cold over the past few years, but for most of us it’s either an annoyance to be solved by AC, or a novel week of skating on a previously never-frozen pond. But for British Columbians who depend on weather for their livelihoods, such as those in agriculture, these chaotic and extreme weather conditions are a threat.

In this fall issue of British Columbia Magazine, Jane Mundy explores this challenge from the perspective of the Okanagan’s wine industry. Not only are the Okanagan’s vineyard operators and winemakers impacted by heatwaves and cold snaps, but they are also threatened by the smoke and flames of wildfire and our province’s ever-climbing yearly average temperatures. As you’ll see in this article, wineries up and down the Okanagan have had recent crops decimated by sub -20º C temperatures, even if they managed to survive the heat dome. And with increasing yearly averages, grape varietals that have been the backbone of the Okanagan industry for decades, may no longer be viable in the near future. As a result, Okanagan winemakers are all trying to find grapes that will survive in extreme heat and cold, thrive in an overall warmer climate and still provide great-tasting wine. So that’s the chaos part, what about the opportunity? This search for new grape varietals opens as many doors as it closes. Most of the grape varietals that we know and love come from cultivars of Vitis vinifera, which originates in the Mediterranean and Central Asia. Clearly the climate in these traditional wine-making areas is warmer and drier than ours in

British Columbia, and while we are certainly able to create very nice wines in both the Okanagan and Vancouver Island, our climate is at the extreme range (cold, wet and dark) of what would be considered “ideal” conditions for wine. Finding wines that suit our climate is a challenge that winemakers in BC have been facing for decades. Not to try and put a positive spin on climate change and the steady rising temperature of the Earth’s surface year over year, but hotter, drier and sunnier summers will let winemakers try out new grape varietals that produce bigger, juicier wines like cabernet sauvignon, and also improve the complexity of wines we already grow well, like pinot noir.

It’s not just BC winemakers that are seeing this opportunity. In the past few years, big American winemakers have been looking at property in Canada. Most recently, industry giant Jackson Family Wines purchased both Blue Grouse Estate Winery and Unsworth Vineyard on Vancouver Island. While these purchases are said to diversify their portfolios, it’s not a stretch to muse that they too see opportunity in the relative wet and cold of the Cowichan Valley, especially when coming from a region with even hotter temperatures and more wildfires than BC.

Of course, nobody knows for sure what surprises the next few years hold, but I do feel optimism for the future of the wine industry in BC. It only takes a few years to grow new vines from scratch, and even less time to graft new varietals onto old rootstock, and no doubt there are several BC winemakers who have already started this process.

As someone who enjoys trying new things, especially wine, I choose to see this as a bit of a silver lining and am looking forward to tasting new and exciting wines from familiar BC wineries.

—Dale Miller

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FAMILY HISTORY ON HIGHWAY 37

I am currently working my way through the Spring 2023 edition of your magazine and was very interested in the article on page 32, “Archie’s Guide to Highway 37.” It was a fascinating article but what caught my eye in particular was the photograph of the Salmon Glacier and the map on page 37 which showed a few placenames I recognised from my wife’s family history.

My wife Sheila’s great-great-uncle was a chap called James Dunbar who emigrated with his wife and daughters from Stonehaven, Scotland in the 1890s. They originally settled in Ontario, quickly moving on to Winnipeg where his wife died suddenly in 1905. The girls came back to Stonehaven and were raised by their grandparents, while James remained in Canada—eventually ending up as the manager of the Silbak Premier Mine north of Stewart.

While his daughters didn’t see much of him while growing up, he sent back many letters containing photos and descriptions of where he was working and what he was doing. He eventually retired and returned to Scotland in 1926. His youngest daughter Agnes lived to the grand age of 99 and died in 1997, however, when my wife Sheila was growing up, and indeed after we met and married, she would regale us with stories about her early life in Canada and share her father’s pictures with us.

Martin Gray, Aberdeenshire, Scotland

SMALL TOWN CHILDHOOD

I thoroughly enjoyed the article about Port Alice. Seeing the photos of some of the houses reminded me so much of my childhood in Woodfibre, another pulp mill town near Squamish. My father went to work in Port Alice during one of the

mill shut-downs in the 1950s or ’60s. Sadly, all residents had to leave Woodfibre in the early 1970s because the company did not want to maintain the townsite any more. Despite many hardships of living in a small town accessible only by ferry, Woodfibre, and I’m sure, dozens of other similar towns in their day, provided a great place to grow up and generations of residents have fond memories of their time there.

Alanna Wrean, Victoria, BC

AMENITIES ON HIGHWAY 8

Murphy Shewchuk’s description and information article on Highway 8 in the summer edition was very well done. However, for the visitor or adventurer

who chooses to make the trip some information was not included. Travellers should be aware that there are no gas stations in Spences Bridge. However, if you continue on Highway 8 to Trans Canada 1 and go over the Thompson River Bridge you will have access to motels, fruit stands and a down home eatery called the Packing House. Gas will be available at Lytton or Cache Creek.

W.W. Rice, Vernon, BC

ABERDEEN ROAD CORRECTION

Page 58 of the Summer 2023 issue mentions Aberdeen Mine Road at Lower Nicola. It is actually Aberdeen Road. Aberdeen Mine Rd starts at Tyner Creek where it goes up the backside of Gypsum

This photo was taken on April 7, 1914 and shows James Dunbar (second from left) watching the removal of two wounded bank bandits who had attempted to rob the New Hazelton bank. He just happened to be in New Hazelton that day.

Mountain to the site of three mines: Aberdeen Copper Mine, which was active from 1912-1915, Dot Mine and Wiz21.

George Vau, Via email

HOLBERG MEMORIES

I also read with interest the story about Holberg and then the letter by Alexis Hendricks. As a very small child in the early 1950s my husband Gerald Ker-

Not long after they arrived his mum made the trip to Port Alice where she gave birth to a daughter whose second name became Alice. Gerald might have been very young at the time, but he remembered the life quite clearly and how one day a whale got marooned in the Holberg Inlet. He remembered the awful stench of rotting whale after it died. The call of the land drew his family back to the farm after a couple of years.

In 2000, we drove out there with our young family.  Even with the great roads we have today it was a long haul. I have a great admiration for the folks who lived in those days who endured so many things while working hard to provide for

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Due West

VISITORS ARE welcome to pick apples, pears, cherries, plums, quince and nuts in 17 heritage and non-heritage orchards spread across eight Gulf Islands, and you can take up to six pieces per fruit type—when ripe—at any one time.

“Get off the dock on Russell Island, walk through the douglas fir and arbutus trees

Gulf Island Orchards

The Gulf Islands’ public orchards provide both tasty treats and a bite of history

BY JANE MUNDY

and you feel connected to the ancient story of British Columbia,” says Kate Humble, superintendent at Gulf Islands National Park Reserve. “Then all of sudden you see a tree that doesn’t belong—an apple tree. And with it are these white buildings, one of which is a Hawaiian plantation-style home located next to a First Nations sea garden, which

is a wall built for shellfish to grow, like aquaculture. Standing in this place with its incredible diversity of history is an example of how BC and the Gulf Islands came to be today.”

Hawaiians came looking for opportunities during their political upheaval. By 1845, over 200 Hawaiians worked for Hudson Bay Company

These orchards once provided sustenance for early settlers in the Gulf Islands.

in the Pacific Northwest and many “Kanakas” settled on the Gulf Islands. After clearing land for settlement, the newcomers planted orchards with apple varieties from the eastern US and a handful from Europe and Russia. It’s amazing how far apples have travelled. “They traded or sold and their fruit trees grew well in this climate,” adds Humble.

Parks Canada/Fritz Mueller

“Some apples were grown to be shipped to Barkerville during the Cariboo gold rush in the 19th century, while other varieties came from places such as Quebec, Indiana and New York, says Laura Judson with Parks Canada. “Settlers likely brought these varieties with them from their homes when they travelled to the Gulf Islands. In fact, while the

Okanagan is now the centre of BC’s fruit industry, the Gulf Islands used to be the largest apple-producing region in the province.” From the 1830s to the 1960s, settlers planted apple seeds and small grafted fruit trees. Today the Gulf Islands orchards are living examples of horticultural practices from the Victorian era (1837 to 1901).

Barrie Agar, president of the BC Fruit Testers Association, has worked with Parks Canada to help identify 24 fruit varieties and 137 individual fruit trees on the islands, including old-fashioned quince that’s making a comeback. But mainly apples.

“I think the Hawaiians planted apples because they bumped into the Scots who are everywhere,” she says, laughing. (She’s right: one orchard on Pender Island was planted by Scottish settlers in 1908.) On a more serious note, Agar says many trees, particularly on Saturna and Mayne islands, are in rough shape because they don’t get watered. Occasionally horticulture students from Camosun College will help prune and restore the trees.

“I recently visited Saturna Island with Parks Canada and we were ambushed by cows. Someone distracted Ursula and Beth (they had nametags) with apples and we found a lemon pippin apple. It’s supposed to taste like lemon but it was a bit over-ripe—the cows weren’t objecting. The aromatic king has excellent flavour hits, like a complex wine, and far superior to a lot of modern varieties that are one-note-wonders.” Agar has identified a Canada reinette (1771) a large culinary apple, or possibly a British Columbia, which was raised from seed in 1859: It is similar to Canada reinette, and has a yellowish skin with russeting. “Russeting is roughened or corky skin. it can be a physiological reaction to salt or wind, but some apples seem to be naturally russeted,” Agar explains. “They often have very good flavour: golden russet, belle

GULF ISLANDS ORCHARDS

The Gulf Islands National Park Reserve lists the top six orchards to visit, some of which are accessible only by boat:

1. Roesland Orchard, North Pender Island: Apple, pear, cherry, plum and walnut trees were planted in the 1910s by Scottish settler Robert Roe Sr.

2. Shingle Bay Orchard, North Pender Island: Apple orchard with varieties red delicious, golden delicious and spartan.

3. Palau Orchard (Princess Bay), Portland Island: 31 trees and seven heritage apple varieties, including the newton wonder, lemon pippin, red delicious, northwest greening, winter banana, rome beauty and what is likely the yellow bellflower.

4. James Bay Orchard, Prevost Island: The largest orchard in the park reserve was established in 1889. It has 23 trees with three varieties of apples: the wealthy and king of tompkins county from the US and the antonovka from Russia.

5. Mahoi Orchard, Russell Island: Apple and cherry orchard that helped sustain the Mahoi family for generations.

6. Narvaez Bay Orchard, Saturna Island: Part of a family homestead that was planted in the 1920s and then sold in 1944. It has at least six apple varieties.

de boskoop, roxborough russet, you get the drift.” Some names themselves are exotic: doyenne de comice pear, duchess of oldenburgh apple, carpathian walnut…

But not all heritage varieties are fantastic. Some ripen early before we had gas-controlled storage. Some stored well but weren’t so flavourful so settlers made pies and apple sauce with them in the winter.

Picking isn’t as easy as you

may think. Harvesting must be done by handpicking; picking poles may be used but no ladders are allowed. It could be slim pickings: birds get the ripe cherries and walnut trees are squirrel heaven. So, it’s not as fruitful as going to a u-pick orchard but likely more rewarding: one bite from an apple from these orchards is like Proust’s madeleine cake that evoked memories of things past.

New ‘Kid’ on the Block: Montrose Local

IF YOU’RE HEADING to the Gulf Islands this fall, be sure to check out this new Mayne Island eatery which opened this year. Located in Fernhill Centre in what used to the home of Wild Fennel Restaurant, which sadly closed over 10 years ago, Stephanie McBurney and Jeff McPherson are cooking up a storm and ensuring the visitors have as much fun at the Montrose as they and their family are having. This couple really know their

island and what makes for a good community. In addition to what the fixings of a great meal and fun evening need to be. Along with their two chefs, Mike Smith and Jan Gumbmann, and their family of three, Rowyn and Ryder Magee, both 15, and 6-year-old daughter, Abby McPherson, they really whip up some creative cuisine and lively evenings.

The couple have worked toward this dream for five years and both have experience in the culinary field as well as a long history with the island and its community. They were still awaiting their liquor license when we visited in early August,

but this hasn’t been a problem for them. “The delay has allowed us to get a clear idea of who we want to be,” McBurney says, and her partner agrees: “We don’t want to be a pub. We want to focus more on having a community space for visitors and for locals, a place to come in for a coffee and a game of foosball, meet with friends, work on the puzzle or come for a fun evening.”

McPherson tells me he loves creating different ethnic foods with his two other chefs, ensuring that the dishes are constantly changing. They all have fun in the kitchen, experimenting and challenging one another.

“We feature freshness and quality—everything comes in fresh except for the prawns and everything is made from scratch. And the culinary theme nights, where our chefs collaborate, is very popular. We had a Szechuan meal the other night and it was booked out. We had to hold it a second night as well. It was Indian food in September.” Who knows what winter will bring?

The venue itself is colourful and as zesty as the dishes: local art festoons the walls, puzzles and games invite visitors to take their time and relax. There’s no doubt that this is always going to be a place for families and locals to hang out, and this couple thinks it’s a good thing. There’s even a community table. Lego anyone?

Have a look at their active Facebook page and drool. Then jump on a ferry. This is a true ‘Gulf Island style’ experience you’ll never get in the city.

Cherie Thiessen

First Fine Issued for a Derelict Boat in Victoria’s Cadboro Bay

THERE ARE AN estimated

1,700 derelict boats scattered around BC and many thousands more linger on Canada’s shores. The wrecks are often dangerous, leak fuel and other harmful products and damage the ocean’s plants and animals. Wrecks located on beaches in urban locations can lure people aboard which can lead to injury. In the past, wooden boats decayed, eventually returning their fibre to the earth. But fibreglass vessels, like diamonds, are forever.

To deal with this scourge, in 2019 the Federal Government passed “The Wrecked, Abandoned, or Hazardous Vessels

Act,” which made abandoning boats illegal, and “recognized the responsibility and liability of owners for their vessels.” Before then, there were few consequences for abandoning vessels.

After the Act became law, it developed regulations, including the imposition of fines on those who abandon boats. The Canadian Coast Guard assesses the condition of abandoned vessels and determines when they pose environmental threats or navigation hazards.

On June 27, the first fine of $15,000 was levied

against a boat owner who’d failed to remove a 27-foot powerboat after it washed up in Cadboro Bay on March 31. The Coast Guard had notified the owner numerous times and had noted the boat had discharged polluting substances and its fractured condition presented a public danger. He was ordered to clean up the wreckage but has not yet complied.

I spoke with Rob Menzies of Salish Sea Industries (who have removed many derelicts from

our coastline), who told me they had already removed a previous sailboat belonging to this owner that had also washed up on Cadboro Bay’s beach and that another boat he’d occupied had burned. Menzies added that his company had submitted a bid to remove the boat for an estimated cost of $20,000.

I often wonder if the persons who have sold a decrepit boat for a few bucks because they don’t want to invest in upgrading their vessel or to pay for proper disposal should also be fined. Many derelict boats end up ashore because the next person occupying them has neither the knowledge nor the funds to maintain them. But as the last owner, they’re on the legal hook for disposal, while the previous owner also bears responsibility. Is there a gap in the Wrecked, Abandoned, or Hazardous Vessels Act?

—Marianne Scott

Pacific Voyages, The Story of Sail in the Great Ocean

by Gordon Miller, Douglas & McIntyre, 242 pages, $59.95

Can you ever get tired of reading about mutinies, shipwrecks, discoveries, disasters, fortune and fame? Or looking at sketches of well-known ships and admiring maritime art?

Miller’s hard cover publication dishes this all out. It’s way more than a ‘story of sail’: it’s a tribute to the humble little ships that first sailed into the Pacific and the sailors who manned them; it’s an artistic feast with Miller’s evocative nautical art on most pages, and it’s a compendium of history infused into 23 actionpacked chapters. Of course, the history is brief and condensed, as the author writes in his preface, but when readers finish perusing Pacific Voyages, they will have a wide knowledge of how the vast Pacific Ocean and its myriad of islands and land masses were discovered and occupied.

I enjoyed reading about the North Pacific fur trade and the hunt for otters that resulted in the colonization of western BC and the skirmishes by British, Spanish and American traders and explorers as they all jostled for land, furs and glory, and further north, the Russian incursion into Alaska. And then there’s Capt. George Vancouver, whose voyage aboard the Discovery in the late 18th century when he

charted almost the entire western coast was one of the last and greatest of the Pacific voyages. And never to forget the historic meeting of Chief Maquinna and Captain James Cook in BC’s west coast Nootka Sound. There have been many esoteric west coast history books published in the last few years and Pacific Crossings, with its sweeping vision, somehow pulls all those histories together for me.

The book primarily deals with the last four centuries of the Pacific Ocean’s exploration as Miller helps bring to life the voyages of seafarers like Marco Polo, Christopher Columbus, Hernan Cortes and Sir Francis Drake. As well, more recent adventurers in the late 18th and early 19th centuries are lauded, like master mariner, Joshua Slocum, whose book Sailing Alone Around the World is a classic and Capt. John Voss whose wee boat Tilikum, who was returned to Victoria, BC in 1930 and is preserved there as an artifact in the Maritime Museum of BC.

The book is a keeper on so many levels. It’s a multidimensional celebration of our maritime heritage, it’s a resource and it’s a work of art.

Cherie Thiessen

Incredible Crossings, The History and Art of the Bridges, Tunnels and Inland Ferries That Connect British Columbia, by Derek Hayes, Harbour Publishing, 308 pages, $46.95

What writer/historian could possibly put together a 30-chapter tome like this, highlighting the many links that keep this province and its diverse and challenging topography connected? Hayes, of course. He’s an old hand at this, taking on literary tasks that many would consider daunting. The prodigious Historical Atlas of British Columbia and the Pacific

Northwest comes to mind, an informational-packed volume too big for my bookshelf, but in addition to this even, over a dozen other atlases and histories also carry his moniker.

“I have been taking photos of bridges for many years, attracted by their often-elegant geometry, their lines and curves, and their structural composition,” the author writes in his preface. Even without the preface, his passion for bridges is evident on every page, greatly assisted by his own colour and black and white photos. So now add expert photographer to Hayes’ attributes as well. I’d buy this hard cover for the photos alone.

Initially some readers may wonder whether an esoteric subject like this can be interesting, but no worries on that score, Hayes has made bridges sexy. Wrapping facts, stories and history with contemporary and archival photographs, memorabilia and sketches, the book briskly and informatively moves along. Yes—there is copious information in here, in smaller print, and most readers won’t get through more than one chapter in any one reading, but I recommend not approaching it that way in any case. It’s a resource, not a bedtime story; it needs to be savoured, not gulped.

The 30 chapters are logically arranged by place, but what I especially like is that there is

a bridge finder on page 312, making it possible for me to go directly to specific bridges

I am curious about. For example, I have a fascination for trestle bridges so I could go directly to the photos and info on the Myra Canyon trestles built in 1914, and the Kinsol Trestle on Vancouver Island, built in 1921 and restored in 2009-2011, and find out that it is one of the largest trestle bridges in the world.

This is a resource worth treasuring.

Workboats for the World—The

It takes a hefty tome to tell the story of Robert Allan Ltd., the Vancouver-based naval architecture firm with a nearly 100-year pedigree. Allan, the third and last Allan to run the company, with Peter A. Robson, this monumental work (it weighs six-and-a-half pounds) traces the history of this deeply respected corporation, illustrated with numerous, clear, historic and contemporary photographs of high-performance workboats and some early, sumptuous yachts.

In 1919, founder Robert Allan emigrated to Canada from Scotland with his wife and son, and working at North Vancouver’s Wallace Shipyards, designed the CPS’s Princess Louise. He launched his own

—Cherie Thiessen

Robert Allan Story, by Robert G. Allan, Harbour $99.95

firm in 1928 and endured the Depression, although he designed several private yachts. His son, Robert F. Allan (Bob), worked with his father after the Second World War, and Bob’s wife, Nancy, became the company’s secretary/ treasurer. In turn, their son, Robert G. Allan, took over the reins. In 2008, without direct heirs, the company became an employee-owned firm (90 employees today) with Robert G. remaining as executive board chair.

Robert Allan Ltd. is Canada’s oldest privately-owned consulting naval architect firm. Its workboat designs include ferries, tugs and special tanker escort tugs, barges, fishboats, supply ships, patrol and emergency vessels, and ice breakers. Although expe -

riencing lean years during recessions, the firm always obtained commissions such as converting military ships into commercial vessels and fishboats after the Second World War. They changed with the times, adapting from wood to steel, aluminum and fibreglass, and being an early adopter of computer-aided-design. They produced studies for the Canadian Coast Guard Safety Branch that still influence safety standards today.

After writing the introduction describing the firm’s early days, further history and evolution, the authors did not list their boat designs in chronological order, but devoted chapters to each category of vessel, like fishboats, ferries or tugs. Each chapter includes descriptions of new trends in boat design and

economic changes, photos of various vessels, sometimes accompanied by highly detailed Profiles and General Arrangements. Thus we learn about the many types of fishboats and their post-Second World War designs and evolving need for faster fish delivery as regional canneries closed. Seiner, troller and gillnetter designs left the drawing boards and many were constructed locally. More recently, many have been converted to pleasure craft.

This significant and carefully documented tome reveals not only the Robert Allan story, but brings to light the advancement of workboat design on Canada’s Pacific coast and its boat-building traditions. It’s a substantial contribution BC’s and Canada’s maritime history.

—Marianne Scott

Victoria artist Robert Amos had a long-standing friendship with E.J. Hughes before the latter’s death in 2007. Collaborating with the E.J. Hughes estate and the Canadian War Museum, Amos has had access to Hughes’ entire archives and has produced a fourth and meticulously researched volume

E. J. Hughes, Canadian War Artist, by E. J. Hughes, Touchwood, $35

DUE WEST

celebrating Hughes’ contribution to war art.

During Hughes’ life, his wife, Fern, and later Pat Salmon, a friend and neighbour, preserved his artistic work, documents, correspondence and legacy, which has led to this and three previous volumes— E. J. Hughes Paints Vancouver Island, E. J. Hughes Paints British Columbia, and The E. J. Hughes Book of Boats

This volume describing Hughes’ war sketches, paintings and personal notes further demonstrates his talent and keen painterly eye. Unlike the land and seascape/boat paintings in earlier volumes, what is striking about War Artist are the many human figures in action. Hughes was stationed in Ottawa, Britain and the Aleutians and sketched and painted soldiers on defensive lines, operating guns and driving armoured cars and tanks. He drew portraits of some of the officers. Mess tents feeding the troops, and battalions shooting from forts and operating antiaircraft guns in the Aleutians fill these pages.

Like the earlier volumes, this is a beautifully curated and produced book, familiarizing us further with one of Canada’s iconic artists and documenting Canada’s contributions to the Second World War’s allied victory.

—Marianne Scott

Snorkelling Adventures

around Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands—The Ultimate Guide, by Sara Ellison, Harbour, $26.95

From her boat and from the beach, Sara Ellison has been exploring marine life in British Columbia’s waters through a snorkel lens. In her Snorkelling Adventures around Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands— The Ultimate Guide, she states that many people might shiver when thinking of putting their 36◦ C℃ body into our 8-12◦ C℃ water, but that they’re missing

the biodiverse, colourful fauna and flora that thrive in our provincial waterways.

The book mixes practicality and caution as she described 51 excellent snorkelling sites. Ellison is an astronomy prof at UVic—as well as a triathlete—and carefully documents her snorkelling locations and underwater discoveries while always pointing out when knowledge is incomplete, or that coastal conditions may change with tides and wave action and thus may differ from her descriptions.

Sea stars, anemones and nudibranchs (sea slugs) and other critters are depicted in her excellent colour photographs throughout the book. Her list is not exhaustive, she writes, but she has inserted photos of different species likely to be found in the locations she describes. She also lists the best destinations to see different sealife species. As one example, she catalogues the coves and bays where some of BC’s 25 species of sea stars thrive.

The introduction offers specific details on what you need to snorkel safely. Ellison describes what wetsuit might suit you under what conditions; gloves, boots, weight belts and fins are also covered. She provides tips on avoiding close encounters with sea lions, seals and various whales. Like whales and other sea creatures, you may get entangled by fishline, so don’t

go snorkelling without a dive knife, she advises, and don’t get speared by urchin spines.

For each region, all colour coded, an accompanying map shows the best snorkelling locations. Ellison describes each site and its characteristics, followed by the signature species, and then the individual “critter” list. The spot’s accessibility is next, followed by warnings and tips about such things as boat traffic or heavy vegetation like bull kelp during the summer. Where appropriate, she also includes such fun items as the summertime food trucks at Ogden Point.

Ellison has prepared an excellent guide to snorkelling in our region. The photos are stunning and should encourage people to explore. For recreational boaters, kayakers and even paddleboarders, it provides destinations where they can experience one more delightful adventure.

—Marianne Scott

for the sea, seaweeds and the marine creatures she discovers to entice young readers to explore the sea themselves.

Swinimer uses icons that identify which seaweeds grow in Pacific, Atlantic, Arctic and Southern Oceans. She explains the basics of photosynthesis, how seaweeds—or as she calls them, “plants of the sea”—are put together, including the blades or fronds, stipes and holdfasts. She introduces the term, “phycology,” the study of algae, which includes seaweeds. Throughout the book, she cleverly includes small sidebars that contain a “phyco-fact.” Here’s one example, “Phycologists estimate there are at least 450 species of seaweed that grow in the Pacific Northwest, with new species still being discovered.”

She describes the red, green and brown seaweed families, their individual properties, and their culinary and medicinal value. She also explains the ecological value of seaweed—the amount of carbon they sequestrate, how much oxygen they emit, and how their undulating movement in the water column provides a nursery for young fish species, hides crabs and sea stars and tempers storms. She provides examples of how plastics and other garbage can destroy marine fauna. She also offers lessons on how youngsters can collect seaweed themselves.

Amanda Swinimer, popularly known as the “mermaid of the sea,” has transformed the concepts from her recently published The Spirit and Science of Seaweed into a highly readable children’s book In easy-to-understand language accompanied by colourful photos and drawings, Swinimer describes her love of the kelp forests that flourish in the Salish Sea—it’s her place of work, or, as she writes, her “office.” She uses her deep love

Once your offspring have a stash of seaweed, Swinimer presents recipes for making seaweed gel and seaweed bath bombs. They also learn to make a Mermaids’ MineralRich Snack—which leads to a description of seaweed’s many healthy minerals.

The Science & Superpowers of Seaweed is an excellent book to stick in your pocket when you take your young family members to the beach, a marine park, or on your boat.

And I want to make that seaweed gel myself.

—Marianne Scott

The Science & Superpowers of Seaweed—A Guide for Kids, by Amanda Swinime

DESTINATION PRINCE GEORGE

A captivating autumn trip to the Northern Capital of BC

BY LINDA GABRIS

If you’re looking for a memorable autumn getaway, beautiful Prince George, the Northern Capital of BC, is a thrilling destination loaded with fun and adventure. Even though the city is a great place to visit any time of year, there’s special magic in fall when the changing colours make for the most spectacular scenic countryside.

Another reason why fall is a wonderful time to visit Prince George, or “PG” as it’s fondly known, is that after the kids are back in school and the hustle and bustle of summer has simmered down a little, the two major highways leading into PG (Highway 97, running north-south, and Yellowhead High-

PG lies near the confluence of the Nechako and Fraser rivers.

Joanne Dale/Adobe Stock Tourism Prince George

way 16, running east-west) have less traffic which makes for a much more leisurely drive. And believe me, you’ll want to travel at a slower pace in order to admire the breathtaking “cavalcade of colours” and for spotting popular northern wildlife such as moose, deer and black bear.

PG, which my family has called our hometown for almost 40 years, is an ultra-modern, multi-cultural city with all the amenities needed to support a population reaching toward 90,000. But regardless of its impressive size, I can vouch the city has not outgrown its warm and friendly “small town” atmosphere. And being surrounded in all directions by supernatural woodlands and majestic waters, including the Nechako River and the mighty Fraser meandering peacefully through town, it is almost impossible to see where the boundaries lay between city and countryside.

THE ROOTS OF PG can be traced back to the traditional territory of the Lheidli T’enneh Indigenous people who maintained a thriving agricultural settlement on the fertile banks of the Fraser River up until 1807, when the explorer Simon Fraser landed on the shores and set up a fur trading post which became known as Fort George. The heavily travelled post brought an end to the peaceful life the native people had enjoyed in their long-settled village.

Today the historical site has been reestablished as the Lheidli T’enneh Memorial Park, an ideal place to pay tribute to the “people of the land” and to enjoy family fun. The beautiful park has stunning flower gardens, play-

Top: Northern BC Tourism/6ix Sigma Productions; Destination BC/Above: Dave Silver; Inset: Andrew Strain

Above: Dining at Northern Lights Estate Winery. Right: Mountain Bikers riding on the Pidherny trail network.

grounds, waterpark, picnicking areas, scenic walkways along the historic river and an impressive bandshell where talented local Indigenous people often share traditional entertainment.

While at the park, pop into the Exploration Place, an interactive science and history museum which has exciting exhibits and programs guaranteed to stimulate the curiosity of folks of all ages and, depending on its schedule, if the Little Prince’s train is still running you can catch a delightful ride around the park on Canada’s shortest passenger railway.

ONE OF THE things I love about PG is its endless offering of peaceful green spaces within the city limits for strolling, hiking, biking, birdwatching and picnicking. Some of my favourite places to unwind with Mother Nature are the Cottonwood Island Nature Park which runs along the Nechako River, Moore’s and Ginter’s meadows, and Forests for the World.

However, on energetic days when I want to “boot up” for some serious footwork, a short drive out of town in any direction delivers a variety of renowned hiking trails such as Teapot Mountain, Sugarbowl, Fort George Canyon and Giscome Portage. Be sure to pick up a trail guide map from the PG Tourism Info Centre to decide which of these trails are best-suited for your own skill level.

If I had to recommend just one of our city’s most outstanding or formidable trails, if you will, I’d have to point my finger at the acclaimed Pidherny, an amazing network of trails dishing up endless thrills for hardcore mountain bikers including the “dare devils” in my family who consider Pidherny as their very own Sun Peaks! The extensive system has over 65 kilometres of trails laced with challenging natural and manmade obstacles, and to get your imagination rolling, there’s trailheads with descriptive names

Left: There are plentiful fly fishing opportunities around PG. Below: Betulla Burning Pizzeria.

DESTINATION

like “Honeyshuttle,” “Dimeslot” and “Kitchen Sink” ... giving a hint at what lays ahead.

For a slower paced sport, as long as the “greens” are still green, we have a fine selection of golf courses such as the prestigious Aberdeen, an 18-hole championship course rated amongst the best in Canada. Other notable courses are Alder Hills, Aspen Grove and Pine Valley. One of my family’s top picks, since it is within walking distance of our home, is PG Golf and Curling Club, where you’ll also find the Overhang, an indoor climbing gym that is great for taking a shot at rock climbing. When you’re ready to reach

an outdoor “high,” there’s a secret rocky cliff located alongside Eaglet Lake, a short drive east of town, that’s popular with novice climbers and easy to spot alongside the road.

NOW IT’S TIME for me to share a really big secret! Fall is prime time to go fishing in the north and there’s no shortage of productive waters to test your luck, with PG having more than 1,600 lakes, rivers and streams within a 100-kilometre radius of the city. And the good news is, there’s no need to fret if you forgot your tackle because you can borrow everything needed for

year-round fishing at the PG Visitor Centre.

So, no boat? No problem! There are numerous local lakes stocked with trout that are well-suited for fishing from the shore or dock such as Eena Lake (only 35 kilometres northwest of PG, sporting a new dock installed by the Freshwater Fisheries of BC), Shane Lake (located within city limits and close to the magnificent highly acclaimed University of Northern BC), Ferguson Lake (within city limits which has a fishing dock and canoe launch, lakeside trails and elevated boardwalk), Punchaw (offers forestry camping and pretty good fishing about 24 kilometres west on the Blackwater Rd) and Eaglet Lake, a jaunt east where you can fish in various spots along the shoreline and have a picnic at the wellgroomed Harold Mann (a local figure who introduced truck logging to PG over 70 years ago) Memorial Park.

Got a boat? Then trolling is another story because there’s lots of boatable lakes to tackle, some suitable for small watercraft. Some don’t allow motors, so pick up an Angler’s Atlas at the info centre. My family enjoys trolling at Purden Lake, about a 40-minute ride east, which houses some nice size, super frisky rainbows. Other productive lakes include West Lake, Cobb, Tabor and Ness, to name a few. The most popular species of northern fish are rainbow and brook trout (with many lakes having stocked populations), char, kokanee, whitefish and burbot, the latter being a chosen target of many local ice fishermen (and women) including myself.

SPEAKING OF WINTER, after the autumn leaves have shed and the snow arrives, PG becomes a sparkling winter wonderland with a whole new line of fun and sports to indulge in. Downhill and cross-country skiing at Purden and Hart Ski Hills and Otway Nordic Centre begins with the coming of snow which also opens up a fun world of snowboarding, snow-shoe-

Railway and Forestry Museum.

The Huble Homestead, a turn of the century pioneer home.

Linda Gabris

ing, snowmobiling and, what the heck, even snowball making and snowball throwing!

Regardless of what time of the year you visit, Northern Lights Estate Winery, perched upon the picturesque banks of the Nechako River, is a memorable place to toast your stay. The acclaimed winery holds the title

of being the most northerly and largest fruit winery in the province and it has won numerous medals including the prestigious 2023 Sommelier’s Choice Awards, competing with wineries from all over the world.

Judging from my own tastings, all Northern Lights Estate fruit wines such as the black currant, rhubarb,

IF YOU GO

EAT

Bistro at Northern Lights Estate

Winery is the town’s only riverfront patio that dishes up gourmet good food as well as top notch scenery.

PG Farmers’ Market features locally-grown, organic produce of the season. Meats, baked goods, preserves, confections and so much more. Yearround market. Outdoors in summer, indoor in the colder months, located in the centre of the city.

Birch and Boar Charcuterie and Provisions is the best place to buy locally cured meats, cheeses, soups, sandwiches, premade fresh and frozen meals and, yep, my fave, charcuterie boards.

North 54 offers fine dining with fresh pasta made daily. The cocktail menu has signature drinks that are always new and refreshing.

Betulla Burning has a wood burning oven for baking authentic Neapolitan pizza that fills this pizzeria with Old World flair. Eat in or relax on the covered patio in the heart of the city.

DRINK

Quench your thirst along the Northern BC Ale Trail. As it runs through PG, it’ll carry you to the Crossroads Brewing and the Trench Brewing and Distillery. Enjoy some frosty mugs of craft beers and grab a bite when hunger strikes.

SEE

Historic Huble Homestead takes you back in time to the turn of the century at this thriving restored homestead on the banks of the Fraser River, loaded with pioneer family fun and hands-on homesteading activities. A must-visit.

PG Railway and Forestry

Museum is an eight-acre site in the city with historical buildings, early trains and other artifacts that bring the history of the era back to life—when the coming of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway, in 1914, instantly turned PG into a booming sawmill town and today PG’s wealth and economy still depends heavily on forestry.

The Two Rivers Art Gallery displays work by local artists as well as exhibits of contemporary art from across Canada. And if you’re looking for unique souvenirs and handmade gifts the best place in town for finding the perfect items is at the Studio 2880 Artisan Gallery and Gift Shop.

blueberry and bumbleberry are big winners, but my top pick, especially for capturing the essence of a northern autumn, is their flamboyant cranberry wine. It is crisp and clear with a beautiful bouquet, full-bodied and full of spirit. It tickles the taste buds and is intensely enjoyable. That pretty much sums up what fall in PG is all about!

The Ancient Forests is a unique ecosystem and part of what is believed to be the only inland temperate rainforest in the world. Leisurely hikes on the boardwalks carry you through a breathtaking stand of giant 1,000-yearold cedar trees.

PLAY

Looking for little gambling fun, you can bet on having a good time at the Treasure Cove Casino, (junction of Hwy 97 South and Hwy 16), the largest casino north of the mainland.

STAY

PG offers a wide range of accommodations to suit every need and fancy. Pick up an accommodation guide from the Tourist Info Centre for a complete list of everything from high-end luxury hotels to friendly, informal bed and breakfasts, quaint cabins, privately owned fully serviced campgrounds and self-maintained forestry campgrounds scattered throughout the region.

Category:

PHOTO CONTEST WINNERS

GRAND PRIZE WINNER

CATEGORY: ADVENTURE

Liam McIlvenna

CONGRATULATIONS

Congratulations to all the winners and runners-up in the 2023 British Columbia Magazine Photo Contest. As always, the staff at British Columbia Magazine were thrilled to check out each and every entry we received, and there were many hard decisions to make!

At BC Magazine we see the photo contest as an annual celebration of all the things that make our province great, and a chance to share the excitement of discovery with others. From amazing ocean-side waterfalls to downtown scenes, and bears feeding on salmon to a cannon firing in Vancouver's Burrard Inlet, BC is all of these things combined, and much more. We have tried to include camera and photo data along with the images, which will hopefully inspire some of you when taking your own shots. We hope you enjoy this year’s selections as much as we do, and we look forward to next year’s entries!—Eds

Honourable Mention

Matthias Muller

Location: Weeskinisht Peak, near Terrace

CATEGORY WINNER

Jason Dack

Location: Granville Island, Vancouver

Honourable Mention

Gerd Penno

Location: 9 O'clock gun, Stanley Park, Vancouver

Honourable Mention

Neil Dickie

Location: Douglas Street, Victoria

CANON EOS 5D: 1/25 SEC | F/4 | ISO 1000

Honourable Mention

Mya Van Woudenberg

Location: Tofino

CANON EOS REBEL XS: 1/800 SEC | F/5.6 | ISO 200

Christy Grinton

Category: Scenic

CATEGORY

Sebastian Bernard

Berg Lake, Mount Robson

K1: 1/400 SEC | F/9 | ISO 400

Honourable Mention

Kelly Marsh

Location: Jesse Falls near Kitimat

DJI FC3170: 1/350 SEC | F/2.8 | ISO 100

Honourable Mention

Karl Hare

Location: Juan de Fuca Provincial Park

CANON EOS REBEL T71:

1/640 SEC | F/4.5 | ISO 100

Honourable Mention

Wouter Terpstra

Location: Tofino

CANON EOS REBEL T61:

1/160 SEC | F/8 | ISO 100

MANIA Pickleball

PICKLEBALL IS TAKING BRITISH COLUMBIA BY STORM, AND OFFERING PLAYERS OF ALL AGES BENEFITS TO HEALTH, SOCIAL CONNECTIONS AND EVEN TOURISM

STORY & PHOTOS BY JANE MUNDY

Malchevska

Ifpickleball mania has reached your community it’s likely that you already know a picklehead, or pickler, as they fondly call themselves. Possibly it’s the kid next door or your grandparents—there’s no age barrier. Maybe you play: Pickleball is Canada’s fastest growing sport and BC accounts for nearly one-third of all the registered pickleball players in the country. For many boomers it was a pandemic

pastime, but it’s no longer considered a game for seniors: 18 to 34 years-olds make up the fastest growing population in Canada for pickleball. According to a recent survey by Pickleball Canada, more than 1.37 million of us play the game at least once per month, with more than half playing four or more times per month. And memberships to local pickleball associations all over the province are soaring. So why has it become so popular?

PICKLEBALL APPEALS TO most anyone, regardless of age or athletic ability. With a paddle and a few balls that can cost less than $50, athletic shoes, an open space and a net, you’re good to go. It’s a shallower learning curve and a much gentler game than tennis. In pickleball, the plastic wiffle-like ball isn’t bouncy and doesn’t fly as fast through the air as a tennis ball. The paddle is shorter and lighter than a tennis racket, making it easier to handle. And you

Top: Anne Longley; Bottom: Doug Hoover

serve underhand in pickleball, which is easier to hit and return. There’s less impact—less stopping and starting—the court is smaller and the game is generally quicker. But you can work up a sweat. Considered by health professionals as “fairly strenuous,” it can provide a cardio workout for many people and the lower body especially gets exercise.

Vancouver’s Northshore Pickleball Club’s oldest active member is Elmer Helm, at 97 years young. “Years ago, a

Pickleball Vs Tennis

The Court

The Racket

The Ball

Table Tennis Bat PICKLEBALL RACKET Squash Racket Tennis Racket

PICKLEBALL BALL .93 oz

Tennis ball 2.1 oz

It's possible to fit four pickleball courts in one tennis court.

Top: Anne Longley; Bottom: Doug Hoover

friend made me a paddle from plywood but I only played a few times until I quit tennis in 2018 because it got me out of breath,” says Helm, “but pickleball is great for arrythmia and eye-ball coordination. Another problem getting older is balance and pickleball really helps. People get hung up on the word “exercise” but it’s important for your mental health to be social and get out of the house. You can have fun and stay active without saying the E word.”

“I know a guy in Mill Bay with Parkinson’s who plays every day; it seems to slow down his symptoms and he’s likely getting more out of pickleball than doing little exercises,” says Lee Schultze, program facilitator at Esquimalt Recreation Centre.

It would make sense that health professionals realize the benefits, and along with the pickleball community, Schultze and many others believe we should pressure the government to provide more courts. “Would you rather have seniors at the bar scarfing down fries?” quips Schultze.

“A few of our members bring their partner with dementia issues. We tell them where to stand and when it’s their turn to serve,” says Walter Knecht, president of Pickleball BC. “One guy didn’t know his name but he recognized his wife, served and played. When he stopped playing, he blanked. A number of people attest that pickleball saves their life or their partners’ lives—but we need government funding to build more courts, for all age groups.” By all accounts it would appear that pickleball could put a dint in healthcare costs…

“PICKLEBALL PROVIDES ALL sorts of unseen benefits that we often aren’t aware of,” says Paul Fitzgerald, age 34, with Canada’s National Coaching Certification Program (NCCP) and a de-

gree in human kinetics. He says we tend to turn our backs to aging and a lot of seniors feel powerless against time, but pickleball improves quality of life— physically, mentally and socially, making it a benefit to society. “The more people who play, the better off we will all be.”

I can vouch for Fitzgerald. After six lessons with him earlier this year I became a picklehead. If lessons aren’t within your grasp, Fitzgerald suggests searching the internet to learn the rules and some strategy. He also advises newbies to be discerning because pickleball is a booming industry and with it there are some bad actors and there are conflicting points of view regarding rules.

“There was initially a certain way to play the game but like any sport you have to be malleable, the game is evolving. And most pros—Division 1 college tennis players—are influencing the game so now teens and 20-somethings with phenomenal tennis strokes and less dinking are playing.”

(Dinking usually happens when all four players in doubles pickleball are at the Non-Volley Zone line—near the net. It’s been described as an “art of the soft game… an exercise in finesse, control and patience.

“I try not to steer people into thinking there’s a right and wrong way to play and there’s nothing in the rule book to say what strategy to employ,” adds Fitzgerald. But however way you play, the main ingredient is fun. And maybe add a dash of competitiveness.

Lonely? Grab a paddle. When Jane Addie moved to Victoria from Toronto a few years ago she knew one person. “I phoned the Victoria Pickleball Association and the next morning I was on a court playing with people who fast became friends,” says Addie. “I was soon playing four days a week with the same people and started socializing. I just had the whole gang on my patio for drinks

and sometimes we go to the theatre, have dinner parties. They really saved my psyche.”

“Pickleball allowed me to become friends with a lot of women—not that I’m on the prowl,” laughs Don Cherry, age 73. He is also friends with Addie and about 20 other pickleheads. “I moved here three years ago from Nova Scotia and only knew my sons and one couple. Now I’m part of a big network—about 40 of us rotate at the Esquimalt Rec Centre and I’m widening my circle of friends—widowed, divorced, married— we all have one thing in common.

THE PICKLE

But there’s a pickleball pickle: Supply hasn’t kept up with demand. For instance, demand is so high in Kelowna that the local club had to cap membership before the season even started. Picklers in Victoria are playing on three courts recently created from a small parking lot in Beacon Hill Park (no, pickleball didn’t pave paradise as per Joni Mitchell) but that hasn’t made a dent in demand. There’s also turf wars in Victoria. “Tensions are definitely around some players who would really like to have all of the tennis courts marked for pickleball,” says Connie McCann, president of the Victoria Regional Pickleball Association.

Locals in central Saanich warned council of possible “fisticuffs” if the groups had to share space. Court time disputes on Mayne Island caused a coup at their community centre. (Despite their complaints about pickleball taking over court space, however, many tennis players who retired due to injury are avid picklers.)

And there’s the noise issue. It’s been described as sounding like popcorn warming in a microwave… sporadic bursts that quicken gradually, to an arrhythmic clatter. As a torture technique, it has replaced leaf blowers as the number one noise nuisance for some people. The

Above: Vernon's Million Dollar Roof. Below: Vernon's Provincial Championship Tournament.

City of Victoria barred pickleball from an outdoor tennis area because of noise complaints, but picklers don’t want to play second fiddle to tennis players. “Our association installed sound panels and the neighbours said that worked because it sounds like tennis,” explains McCann. “But across Canada pickelballers don’t have places to play so they take over tennis courts and parking lots. Loud and proud, they don’t obey rules.”

Saanich Mayor Dean Murdock.

No such shenanigans happen in Vernon, where BC’s first Provincial Championship Tournament kicked off this past May, with 621 players competing in 47 different age/skill/gender events. The event happened because the Vernon Pickleball Association fundraised $1 million in 30 days to put a roof on 12 courts. “Four years ago, we got past the idea of the city paying entirely for our pickleball lifestyle so we leased an area

in the sports park and built the outdoor courts,” says Vernon Pickleball Association president Walter Knech. “Then Covid hit. Winston Churchill said, ‘Never waste a good crisis’, so we decided to cover them.” One year later, with the help of 400 members, including electricians and various retired tradespeople volunteering their time, the roof was raised on a building 55 feet high. And they haven’t stopped. “We are now building a 2,500 sq-ft reception area with space to take off winter snow boots, an expensive computer system and washrooms—for another $1 million.

“It’s very clear that we have a growing demand for pickleball and there are many opportunities to create more space,” says Saanich Mayor Dean Murdock, a pickleball fan. After playing at a tournament on his turf with former Victoria Mayor Alan Lowe,

Murdoch “thoroughly enjoyed the game and a generous five-point lead was most appreciated,” he said with a chuckle. Rightly so, as they were playing against coach Paul Fitzgerald. In anticipation of the big event, Murdoch needed a few pointers. “We booked a court last week and got a few tips on rules, and different techniques like how to control the ball,” he says. “So I retained about 20 percent of that and it went well—pickleball is a lot of fun.” Murdock says the Saanich municipality is looking at existing facilities to create indoor courts and a location is pegged for outdoors, not near a residential area.

Pickleball associations and municipal governments throughout BC are looking at Vernon, where there is proof to the adage, “Build and they will come.” Mayor Murdock is looking at partnerships to deliver a service such as Vernon. “It’s worth a conversa-

Above:

tion to work with partners before fundraising kicks off—partnerships are ways to meet the demand,” he says.

In July 2023, the Penticton Pickleball Club’s 375 members made an offer to city politicians: a donation of $100,000 to build four new courts and a commitment to pay more money to rent them. Founded in 2015 with 76 members, the club is capped this season due to a lack of court time. The club previously donated $50,000 to the city to add four new courts. Twelve courts would put Penticton on par with Vernon, Kelowna and West Kelowna. Interestingly, last year the town of Oliver spent $153,000 to resurface two tennis courts and convert one other tennis court into four pickleball courts, the same cost the city spent three years ago in building two new pickleball courts, according to the Penticton Herald.

PICKLEBALL TOURISM

In Florida, real estate developers are spending $180 million on 15 private pickleball clubs, reported the  New York Times. Courts have been opening at recreation centres, hotels and retirement communities across the US. And they are coming to US malls, replacing shuttered stores like Bed, Bath and Beyond and Old Navy. Which begs the question: What is replacing Nordstrom in Vancouver, or Old Navy in Victoria? Walmart and other huge retailers are also closing stores across Canada, which could translate to pickleball tourism. Lee Schultze says some Pickleballers who want to play every day have joined the snowbirds who regularly go south. For example, Yuma, Arizona is heaven on earth with 25 courts. “Victoria’s hotel industry says they are losing business because pickler guests want to play and they don’t have the courts, so they go to Vernon or Parksville with purpose-built courts.”

Tourism Vernon said that hosting the Provincial Championship Tournament benefited Vernon directly—by about $600,000. And the indoor courts provide opportunities to host big events in the future. Lee Schultze says that everyone is waiting for municipalities to give them stuff, but as Walter Knech says, we have to pay to play.

Pickleball History

1965

US congressman Joel Pritchard and two pals on Bainbridge Island are credited with inventing pickleball, possibly named after one of their dogs, Pickle. Or it could be derived from rowing’s “pickle boat,” which describes a crew of rowers put together at random to compete. Makes sense, since pickleball is a mishmash of badminton, tennis and ping pong. They began with table tennis paddles and a perforated plastic ball and a badminton net (60 inches high).

2003

39 places to play in North America, including three Canadian provinces, are listed on the Pickleball Stuff website.

2009

The Pickleball Canada Organization was created.

2023

Bill Gates plays, as do George Clooney and Ellen Degeneres. Pickleball was featured on an episode of

1967

A permanent pickleball court was constructed in the backyard of Pritchard’s pal.

1972

A corporation was formed to protect the sport.

1975

The press took notice. The National Observer first wrote an article and Tennis Magazine followed.

1976

The first world tournament was held in Washington.

PHOTOS

RYAN CREARY

Gold CARIBOO

MOUNTAIN BIKING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF BC’S GOLD RUSH

BY RYAN STUART

My first find on BC’s historic Gold Rush Trail is a tin can. A rusty one at that. It’s sitting among the yellowing blades of grass just off the Tin Can Trail on the outskirts of Clinton. I guess I’m not the first to find the artifact. Or to leave it behind.

But just like the flecks of gold that drove men to hike hundreds of kilometres into the unknown 160 years ago, it only takes a few kilometres of mountain biking on Tin Can for me to feel a similar fever about the trails ahead.

Starting in the 1850s, fortune seekers prospected a route up the Fraser River to Quesnel and into the Cariboo Mountains, laying the groundwork for the creation of the province. Now mountain biking is renewing excitement along the same route. In the last five years new trail networks emerged and old ones grew as communities realized that gold isn’t the only precious element in the Cariboo dirt.

With the word trickling out, like the badly kept 1861 secret of a massive fortune found, two friends and I headed north to search for our fortune, this time in the trails.

TIN CAN TRAIL

MWe start our prospecting in Clinton, a blink-and-you-missed-it highway town with an unusual concentration of funky antique shops. After browsing through piles of old farm implements, ancient kitchen gadgets and some cool old signs, we unload the bikes and roll down the highway to the start of the Tin Can Trail.

A wide, smooth path switchbacks up the hillside above one end of town, climbing through an open forest of pine, fir and tall grass, the morning sun painting it all orange, pink and, predictably, gold.

The history of Clinton and the Cariboo Gold Rush starts in San Francisco in 1855. The “fortyniner” California Gold Rush was winding down. Thousands of out of work miners sat around San Francisco waiting for their next chance to strike it rich. “News of any gold strike was enough to send hundreds of men into the wilderness,” wrote miner Thomas Seward.

The more adventurous set off on their own. In 1856, prospectors found gold

Paul LaPerriere and Ryan Stuart (blue shirt) riding past relics along the Tin Can Trail.

Kelly Servinski opened the Tutti Gravel Inn in Clinton to welcome cyclists of all tire sizes to the Gold Rush Trail. Modelled after cycling hotels in Europe, it has a bike tuning station, secure bike storage, espresso bar and pizza oven.

nuggets in the Fraser River north of Hope. It took nearly two years for the news to reach San Francisco, but when it did it kicked off a stampede. At least 30,000 fortune seekers boated north to present day Vancouver and then continued up the navigable section of the Fraser River to Fort Yale. From here they set off on foot, following the raging river north.

The prospectors clashed with the Nlaka’pamux, who had lived along the Fraser for time immemorial, in the short lived Fraser Canyon Wars. And the British bureaucrats in Victoria didn’t like the idea of thousands of Americans infiltrating their “frontier.” The miners bullied past the Nlaka’pamux. But the British were harder to run over. By August of 1858, the Crown had created the colony of British Columbia and were taxing the miners.

The legacy endures, though the toll on Tin Can trail is easier to afford. After five minutes of climbing, we catch our breath as the path traverses the hillside past tin cans probably chucked from the train—the tracks run just uphill. It’s fun and easy riding with a few scenic views over the town before the trail swoops down to the other end of Clinton.

The town paid to build the trail as part of a trend along Highway 97. Mountain bikers have historically looked beyond the Cariboo. Riders in the south zoomed through on their way to better known destinations, like Burns Lake or Smithers. Northern riders did the same heading south. But towns and First Nations saw the value of single track for their own citizens mental and physical health and the economic benefits of flagging travelling mountain bikers off the highway.

Tin Can is definitely the smallest trail network around, but it has us looking at Clinton differently as we pedal back to our truck and head to our next destination—a new loop around the fire lookout at Mount Jesmond.

MOUNT JESMOND

An hour on backroads driving lands us in a meadow at the mountain’s base. Craning my neck skyward I can just make out the fire tower 700 metres above us.

(Left) The Jesmond Mountain fire lookout is no longer in operation, but is maintained and open to visitors. The author riding a section of Lost Marbles, the downhill trail that descends Jesmond Mountain.

“Are we going up there?” I ask as I strip layers under the quickly warming sun. “I think I need more water.”

The climb is hot, but not as hard as expected. Indigenous youth from the nearby First Nation built the trail by hand over 25 weeks. They did a great job weaving a line up the mountain, mixing short steep sections with breath-catching flats and just enough viewpoints to keep the motivation high. Eventually the single track ends and we hike the road to the top. Even with forest fire smoke

hazing the sky, it’s easy to see why they chose this spot for a lookout. The whole province seems to spread out below us.

Eventually we pull ourselves away from the view, pull on padding and point our bikes down Lost Marbles, a three-kilometre descent that heads straight down to the car. We reverse the two and a half hour climb in 30 minutes.

“It’s a pretty cool feeling climbing a mountain on a bike,” one of my friends says as we cheers the long ride. I can’t help thinking the miners would have

thought our idle sweat a waste of precious energy.

HIGHWAY 97

Knowing the original gold finds were the bread crumbs to the mother lode, the early prospectors continued up the Fraser from Lillooet, exploring tributaries as they went. The steep riversides and canyons made the effort dangerous, but the regular news of significant discoveries kept the hunt alive.

In the end it was William “Billy”

Barker who found the mother lode and sparked the Cariboo Gold Rush. By 1861 he was deep in the Cariboo Mountains, exploring creeks north of Quesnel Lake when he struck it rich. The boom town of Barkerville grew up around the find.

To help get the gold out and the miners in, the new colony built the Cariboo Wagon Road. It started in the town of Lillooet before striking overland across the Cariboo Plateau for more than 300 kilometres. Highway 97 now follows

much of the route. To support the prospectors on their gruelling walk to the gold fields, entrepreneurs built guest houses about every 10 miles. Most have faded back into the landscape, but a few prospered into towns that still bear their unoriginal but navigationally factual names.

We stop in 70 Mile House to eat the best poutine in the Cariboo at The Sugar Shack. Digging into the gooey treat I think the prospectors could only have

wished for such delights. And no doubt would have loved it as much as three hungry bikers. Stuffed with fries, gravy and cheese curds we drive on to 100 Mile House.

Exactly 100 miles from the start of the original Cariboo Wagon Road, it’s a bustling lumber town today. The next morning we meet up with a local rider, Eli Roy-Brown for a guided tour of the town’s trail network, known as 99 Mile Enduro Trails.

The trails in Williams Lake are incredibly diverse, ranging from tacky dirt, modern flow and broken rock gardens like the one on this hidden gem known as Dick’s Trail.

99 MILE ENDURO TRAILS

Set amongst the local cross country ski area, right on the edge of town, it’s the newest trail network in the region. It has a classic Cariboo layout, described by one local as a downhill ski area for biking. A central climbing trail weaves a mellow line to the top and the gravity focused trails peel off in all directions, before collecting at the bottom for the climb back up.

We follow Eli up Climb & Punishment and then down Stormrider, a fast adventure of rugged rocks and drops and slaloming through the trees. The climbing trail picks us up at the bottom.

Jonathan Visscher is waiting for us at the top. He’s a dentist who moved to town from Squamish six years ago and ignited the bike community to build new trails. A small cadre of riders started digging into the hillside and applying for permission and funding to build more. Approachable and smooth, just about anyone could enjoy these trails.

“It’s the kind of riding everyone is looking for these days,” Visscher tells me. “It doesn’t hurt that it’s what I like to ride too.”

He’s already laid out several more trails, part of his plan to turn 99 Mile into a destination.

WILLIAMS LAKE

It’s more of the same the next day in Williams Lake. The surprisingly cosmopolitan town has the most trails in the region with more than 300 kilometres of single track in four distinct networks. Each has its own personality, says Thomas Schoen, a trail builder based in town. Fox Mountain is fast and smooth. Southside is rustic. The trails are quiet and rugged at the Westside. And finally Desous is known for long and steep trails.

“I’ve ridden all over BC and the world,” he says. “I’m biased, but I truly think Williams Lake is the best riding for the kilometres and diversity.”

We start on Fox in the morning, spinning up yet another perfectly graded climb on smooth, clay like dirt. At the top we turn down the newest trail in the area, Loose Moose, a wide, smooth

Wonderland Trail Network

Southside Trails

Fox Mountain Trails

Westside Trails

99 Mile Enduro Trails

Tin Can Trail

Mount Jesmond Trails

Desous Trails

and fast descent with easy jumps and thrilling berms.

Williams Lake has had mountain biking trails since the late 1990s. It remained under the radar until recently because it was always “too far,” says Schoen. But as trails got crowded in the southern part of the province, more and more riders are willing to drive to find solitude.

QUESNEL

Our last stop on the Gold Rush Trail is Quesnel. During the gold heyday it was the commercial centre. It is still the biggest city in the region and home to the world’s largest gold pan. It was only recently that the community embraced mountain biking, says Jason King, a local rider who has come out to show us around.

“People always blew through Quesnel,” Jason says. “They assumed there was nothing here.”

Seven years ago the town elected a new mayor who saw the value of mountain biking. The city started to apply for grants to build new trails. The grassroots riding community became organized. The city built a skills park. A bike shop opened. But it was when they improved the trail network, adding a climbing trail in particular, that King noticed a lot more out-of-town mountain bikers.

At the Wonderland trail network, the climb is called What the Huck. It weaves up through the network to a mid-mountain node and then on to the top. Here we turn down Mucho Oro.

It’s a fitting trail to end our trip. I crank a few pedal strokes to get over a small hump and then my tired legs happily

rest as the bike coasts along. The wide, smooth trail swings right to left and back again. Shallow berm to shallow berm. Gradually the speed builds, the corners get sharper, the berms get bigger. I’m out of the saddle now, muscles reacting to the dips, bumps and turns before I have time to think, the tower-

ing fir and spruce just a background blur. Mucho Oro, indeed.

It was the hunt for lots of gold (mucho oro in Spanish) that initially brought the first wave of visitors to this part of British Columbia. More than 160 years later, it’s trails like Mucho Oro that are attracting a new wave.

“

I’m biased, but I truly think Williams Lake has the best riding in BC for the kilometres and diversity

One of the many built-up features that are becoming a staple of riding in the Cariboo and along the Gold Rush Trail.

I roll out of the Wonderland trails grinning and thirsting for more. King tells me about Dragon Mountain, a bigger network nearby. There’s cross country riding at Soda Creek and 108-Mile, two networks in Williams Lake we didn’t touch and an epic downhill south of Lillooet. Thinking about all the trails

I didn’t ride, the places I didn’t see, the people I didn’t meet, the fever burns. I want to keep searching.

I’M SURE THIS is exactly how the prospectors felt as they sifted out a few flakes of gold and dreamed of what they might find on the next stream. I realize we may

be separated by 160 years of history, but mountain bikers and gold prospectors are not so different. We are both dreamers who see gold where others see dirt. But, on BC’s Gold Rush Trail the miners were just as likely to find a tin can, while mountain bikers are guaranteed to find mucho oro everywhere they go.

OF WOLF

STORY & PHOTOS BY STEVE OGLE

AND MEN

A JOURNEY DOWN THE STIKINE RIVER

Even my wife, Amy, lying beside me, condones shaking our kids awake for this. With an enthusiastic but admittedly nervous energy, I jiggle our two boys’ sleeping bags until they respond groggily: “Dad, what are you doing?”

“It’s a wolf!” I whisper excitedly.

Now they’re awake. We sit up in the blackness and listen to a howl so haunting that the hair on the back of my neck literally stands up—and there’s a lot of it back there. Like clockwork, it resonates every 20 seconds from unseen canyon walls above the small beach we’re camped upon. A few hours earlier, Casey and Fletcher, along with the three other boys from our group, were catching trout right here—something this wolf seems intent upon doing, too. As it approaches the edge of our camp and its moans become ever so louder, the kids become fully aware that the only thing between this hungry predator and their tender, fishy-smelling selves, is a nylon tent. And maybe their parents.

Immersing the kids into serious wilderness is my primary objective this year. The goal: to paddle the mighty Stikine River, the fifth largest river by volume in British Columbia, and arguably, the wildest. The Stikine came highly recom-

mended by canoeist friends as a river for less-experienced paddlers looking for a remote adventure. I remember at the time, raising my hand: “This is for us!” Tales of “Our kids were transformed,” and “They came back as men,” had me signing up for the next available departure, while filtering out gloomy anecdotes of sideways rain and squadrons of mosquitoes. I was sure the transitional moments for our children would come while braving rapids or starting fires with flint and tinder. At very least, my intent was to counteract the late summer doldrums of childhood, where they could take up paddles instead of Nintendo controllers, or cook up bannock instead of ways to drive me crazy.

JUST OVER A week prior to our wolf encounter, we’re on the long drive north. Although it takes two full days, it seems like a month passes on our commute to the northwestern corner of the province. Summer leaps straight into autumn: Dull green hillsides morph into vibrant hues of fireweed and dogbane, especially north of the Cassiar Bridge, the only road crossing along the Stikine’s 600-kilometre length. Upstream of here lies the upper Stikine, another canoeing classic but a little above our paygrade due to numer-

The whole family was well-entertained between paddling, mud baths, fishing, glaciers, petroglyphs and more.

ous rapids and a pricey flight in. Below this bridge lurks the infamous Grand Canyon of the Stikine, a stretch so challenging and remote it’s been dubbed by elite kayakers the “Everest of Whitewater.” Thankfully, we drive around this section to the town of Telegraph Creek, and the start of the lower river where most lily-dippers like us put-in.

After way too many hours in a small, enclosed vehicle, everyone at each other’s throats, we’re ready to cram ourselves into a five-metre canoe. As the greenest paddlers out of the three participating families, we’re a bit nervous when we see the pace of the river below the town. At the quaint Riversong Café we relish a last, tasty coffee while trying not to check email. It’s a good place to learn about small-town happenings, including another paddling group that launched a few days’ ahead of us. We send the kids to explore the real-life time machine that is the Stikine Museum, while we go over a few final details. We’ll need our passports since this voyage finishes in Alaska, and “city” attire for the metropolis of Wrangell, a daunting 260 kilometres downstream as the river meanders. Phones, mostly ballast at this point, are ceremonially sealed away in dry bags and tucked into the raft that will serve as a gear boat and safer

One of the unwritten rules of parenthood is never wake a sleeping child. However, in the middle of the night, camped near the remote border between British Columbia and Alaska, I find a worthy exception.

option for our squirmy progeny. They each pack a book, a whittling knife, flip flops and little else. As soon as we push off into the roiling, mud-coloured waters of the Stikine, it immediately becomes clear that we’re at the river’s mercy. Although it’s running at average water levels, the current pushes along at a good clip. All we can really do is keep the bow pointed toward the coast.

THE FIRST LANDMARK we pass is Glenora, a ghost town situated below its namesake peak. During a brief visit here in 1879, renowned American naturalist John Muir was so captivated by the Stikine that he named his dog after the river. Muir ascended in a paddle wheeler and, duly impressed, wrote home about a “Yosemite one hundred miles long.” Indeed, as our flotilla bobs along, our necks crane at Glenora Mountain and other peaks towering above river’s edge. Muir’s Yosemite accolades appear valid, with two exceptions: there are no people here, and we’re not in any park. Despite the postcard panoramas, we’re situated between protected areas: Mount Edziza and Stikine River Parks to the east, and the Stikine-LeConte Wilderness Area downstream in Alaska. These reserves, hard won by environmental and local indigenous groups, provide a tenuous buffer to the river’s surrounding resources. It seems incredibly wild to us southerners, although early on we pass signs of humanity in the form of several fishing cabins. According to our guidebook and waterproof maps, later in the float a border “outpost” and seasonal fish cannery will await our curiosity. Not only is infrastructure enhanced further down river but so is the fun-factor; we’ve reserved two separate cabins across the border and plan to visit a rustic hot springs called Chief Shakes, complete with cedar tubs.

Vegetation and topography change as we cut through the Coast Range. Aspens give way to cedars, while broken, red-topped peaks are replaced by glaciers and fog enshrouded summits. The river braids often but we stick to the main channel, except during short side-trips such as when exploring the

Choquette warm springs. Here, the kids wallow in mud, which seems to be a preferred pastime. As the days go by, we paddle by major tributaries such as the Chutine, Scud and Porcupine rivers, but the best side-trip by far is the Great Glacier, which requires a short hike to reach an iceberg-filled lake. After a week of blue skies a few pesky black flies become evident, but we figure it’s better than the torrential rain we’ve heard so much about. Instead, under a glaring late-summer sun, we paddle a bit, but mostly just float, and leave most of life’s worries in our wake.

THE KIDS ARE basically autonomous. They play games that only they seem to understand, while taking turns as oarsmen in the raft. To pass the time and spice up our meals, we fish. The local sockeye run has thus far been elusive, though it is reportedly a bumper this year. Due to the incredible amounts of sediment (upward of 16 million tonnes per year deposited in the delta!) the Stikine’s waters are drab and opaque. The tinkling sound of glacial silt swirling against our hulls is the main ambient noise as we paddle. Every once in a while, the random kerplunk of a jumping salmon breaks that monotony and a questioning voice will add, “Why aren’t they biting?”

Both fishing and camping are made easier at the sandy mouths of tributaries, where clear water and ravenous bull trout converge on our lures. Casey, our eldest, catches a lunker, while his younger brother strikes out. Uncharacteristically, he doesn’t sulk, but instead he and the other boys (Mateo, Noah and Matthew) take turns gutting the fish and hauling the fleshy goodness up to a crackling campfire. Amy and I chuckle at this primal scene—it’s one of the reasons we’re here. When normally I might be harping on them to clean their rooms or mow the lawn, now I can sit back and appreciate their voluntary hard work. With a mouthful of buttery trout, no less.

IF YOU GO

Riversong Café

This cafe in Telegraph Creek is a great place to get both information and one last cafe coffee.

To get back up the river, the best way is to charter a jet boat or two from Wrangell, otherwise you can arrange to hook up to a ferry back to Prince Rupert: summitcharters.com

Tahlten Nation: tahltan.org

Guide: Stikine River: A Guide to Paddling the Great River, by Jessica Voss

JUST THE PRESENCE of our campfire is something to be thankful for. While fire bans are not something Muir had to deal with, we’re lucky to have dodged the most recent burning restrictions. It’s warm and dry yet again: conditions that bode well for a pleasant canoe trip, but they instil conflicting emotions when it comes to the state of the climate. In 2018, the Alkali Lake fire burnt a huge swath around Telegraph Creek, taking out nearly half of the town’s infrastructure (as this is written, yet another recordsetting fire season is unfolding in 2023). Landscape-level changes provide a sense of irony here, since some of our campfire sites might have been covered by glaciers not long before Muir’s arrival. During those paddle wheeling days, visitors would jump off to check out the Great Glacier during a short stop along the river. For us, it’s a 45-minute hike along a welldeveloped trail. On a geographic timeframe, glaciers from the surrounding peaks would have blocked even this great river, and reformed its route. According to legend, coastal-bound ancestors of the Tlingit peoples travelled under the ice tongues of these glaciers, via tunnels, during their riverine journeys. Today, I have to use binoculars to scan for distant glaciers. They are still impressive, and it’s probably a good thing they’re not blocking our descent.

Before Muir, and before colonial upheavals—various gold rushes, fur trades, the Alaska Purchase—the Tlingit and the Tahltan paddled these waters. The former used huge dugouts more than twice as long as our modern canoes to navigate upstream and exchange goods near what is now Telegraph Creek. The Tahltan, whose vast territory reaches into Yukon and includes the upper Stikine and Spatsizi areas, provided obsidian and furs, among other goods, to the Tlingit. Today, the Stikine remains rich in cultural history, as evidenced by petroglyphs visible at certain sites along the river and, more publicly at “Petroglyph Beach” in Wrangell. Tahltan culture thrives to this day, especially during the annual pulse of salmon runs. The Tahltan River system, upstream of Telegraph Creek, is the largest sockeye run within the entire Stikine system

and remains important to dwindling chinook stocks. Life in this part of the world is intimately tied to the river.

WE NEVER DO SEE THE WOLF.

Once it approaches to within what feels like pouncing distance of our tent, it suddenly vanishes. The kids go back to sleep and we resume life the next morning. Not long after, it starts to rain heavily—perhaps that’s what the wolf was trying to tell us.

Despite tracks of wolf, grizzly, otter, moose and eagle being strewn about nearly every campsite and lunch spot on our trip, the only large mammal we see during our two weeks is a black bear swimming across the river. I don’t feel disappointed in the slightest. After all, Nature reveals herself in subtle ways, while other times her clues are unequivocal. We’ll never forget our nocturnal encounter on that unnamed tributary.

Despite my earlier worrying, I realize that most of these moments are of the harmless variety, subtle or otherwise. And they are so valuable.

We paddle in the rain toward the mighty Stikine’s delta, and I reflect on my most salient memory of the trip: lying in the hammock, watching the boys play. They sequentially roll in the mud, then sand, then mud again. Then they jump into the river off a giant, oldgrowth log. They’re obviously fine when left alone. When earlier, I worried about them being carted off by a wolf pack, eventually these fears drifted away. Not long into the trip I’d lose track of them for hours on end. One thing is clear: I did more learning and growing on the Stikine than did the kids.

Navigating parenthood, and life for that matter, is like a river: the trick is knowing when to paddle, and when to simply drift.

Stopping for lunch with Valhalla Mountain behind.

T umbling I ce

TUMBLER RIDGE IS BRITISH COLUMBIA’S EMERGING DESTINATION FOR ALL-SEASON OUTDOOR ADVENTURE.

PERHAPS NO SURPRISE FOR ONE OF THE MOST GEOLOGICALLY, HYDROLOGICALLY AND FOSSIL-RICH PLACES YOU’LL EVER VISIT

Northern BC Tourism/Jason Hamborg

STORY BY LESLIE ANTHONY

Kinuseo Falls.

It’s cold out,

Fortunately, in the few hours it takes to ready the group and drive to our end-of-the-road launch some 30 kilometres outside Tumbler Ridge, BC, the temperature meliorates to a balmy –25˚C. Besides, with heated handles, a protective windshield and dressed like the Michelin Man in everything I own plus a set of snowmobile leathers supplied by Randy Gulick, proprietor of Wild River Adventures, cold isn’t the only hazard today. Instead, it’s swirling gusts in the 80 kph range sweeping the icy mountain logging road we’re following that have me worried, pushing the sleds sideways and throwing up the occasional snow witch. Twenty ki-

lometres in, the road finally dives into calmer forest. Another 10 and we’re at our destination.

Parking the sleds, we waddle through snow like astronauts on the moon, arms and legs wide during the awkward half-kilometre to Kinuseo Falls, a spectacular cascade higher than Ontario’s Niagara. I’ve been here before, in July and August, and seen only a couple of other visitors willing to brave summer’s even-more-difficult 60 kilometres of washboard gravel—a shame for such an amazing sight. Today, Kinuseo is devoid of anything but howling wind and snapping branches; with the exception of one inaudible rivulet, even

the usual roar from the high-volume falls has been muted into a series of giant gelid steps.

We gaze down from an expansive platform built by BC Parks back in 1991 (they’d never do anything this cool in the middle of nowhere today), scanning the Murray River far below where, in summer, Randy ferries customers via jet-boat to everything from gravelbar barbecues to weddings. Featured

–30˚C to be exact, and we’re going snowmobiling.

Left: In winter the Kinuseo Falls freeze. Right: Local fossil hunter Charles Helm illuminates the footprint of a small theropod to make it more visible.

Leslie Anthony X2

in postcards, pamphlets, posters and murals, the straight-on view of the falls from that vantage is one of the marquee tourism experiences in this part of BC, but it’s not really feasible in winter. A short trail up a nearby ridge, however, allows you to gaze down at the falls, so we head up, following the tracks of elk who’ve made this overlook a winter yarding area. The view of the cataract from another angle is worthy, if only

to track the boiling and cascading ice formations it now comprises. For a second, I think how crazy it is that such an enormity of water can be frozen into silence; then I realize I can’t feel my toes anymore and it all makes sense.

KINUSEO FALLS ARE the highlight of Monkman Provincial Park—a veritable wilderness-waterfall theme park. Established in 1981 and nestled in

the Hart Ranges of the central Rocky Mountains, its 62,867 diverse hectares of extensive alpine meadow, jagged mountains, old-growth forest, unique geology, thundering waterfalls and clear alpine lakes contribute to some fairly impressive visuals. As Randy’s other job happens to be park-maintenance guy, we head to a set of cabins at park headquarters to light the woodstove and sip hot chocolate while he

readies another cabin for a group of overnighting snowmobilers expected to materialize from the frigid ether. Somehow, between chores, Randy manages to grill thinly-sliced beef tenderloin for delightful sandwiches with all the trimmings—including homemade pickles. Man, I think, I’d follow this guy anywhere. Turns out I have to.

On the way back, Randy, myself and two companions pick up the pace in the rapidly failing light. The snow witches on the windswept road have increased to de facto snow-nados so Randy takes the lead; at one point I watch as he gets caught by one, his sled rocked from side to side as if being pried from the trail. I somehow avoid any such encounter and within a half-hour we’re back at the trucks with heaters blast

ing full tilt as Randy loads up the sleds. Thus went my first day of a deep-winter trip to one of the province’s most unheralded destinations, known not only for its outsized array of spectacular waterfalls, but also for its mountains, a range of intriguing geological formations and trove of fossils spanning hundreds of millions of years—all of which have been folded into an internationally recognized strategic umbrella known as Tumbler Ridge UNESCO Global Geopark.

A flotilla of hopeful roofs adrift in a sea of skeptical pine some 400 kilometres northeast of Prince George and a few-hours west of the Alberta border, Tumbler Ridge is a relatively young resource town by BC standards. Its birth mother, the Northeast Coal Project,

was the largest single industrial enterprise in the province’s history: the entire model community, two metallurgical coal mines (the Quintette and Bullmoose) and a rail spur to service their output, were erected over three years beginning in 1981. Despite decades of up-and-down coal prices that emptied the town then filled it again, Tumbler still resembles a shiny toy village, its history embodied in an enormous, disembodied coal bucket that dominates the town’s centre, as if dropped there from space. But it’s the whimsy of paintings and murals seen on structures throughout town that point the way to a more stable potential fortune: dinosaurs.

GEOPARK

TUMBLER LUMBERED ONTO the paleontological radar in 2000 when strange impressions were discovered along Flatbed Creek by eight-yearold Daniel Helm, son of local doctor Charles Helm [BC Magazine, Spring, 2011]. Paleontologists confirmed that these were dinosaur footprints—the trackway of a heavily armoured ankylosaur—sparking considerable local and international interest. Spearheaded through a hiking club led by the enthusiastic Helm family, residents systematically explored the area over the next several years. A veritable printapalooza of Cretaceous-period trackways turned up under the diligent sleuthing of amateurs and scientists alike—including

The Tumbler Ridge Museum covers the area’s recent human history—as well as a half-billion years of preserved life on Earth.

impressions made by ancient crocodiles, bipeds like herbivorous ornithopods, and giant tyrannosaurs, the top predators of the time. Today, guides can lead you to trackways, even conducting evening lantern tours in which the shadowy footprints are more succinctly outlined in the beam of light.

Various bits of dinosaur bone also materilaized—the first formally identified in the province—and it wasn’t long before an entire Lambeosaurus skeleton was found embedded in a riverbank. Major finds continued to accrue—Triassic fishes, marine reptiles, early plants, ice age mammals. All of which can now be seen at the thoroughly excellent Tumbler Ridge Museum, the best such

institution north of Victoria. Run by the Tumbler Ridge Museum Foundation and dedicated to the conservation, preservation, research and display of both Tumbler Ridge’s fossil and human history, we spend several rewarding hours learning about the various fossil finds, as well as First Nations’ use of the area and early settler explorations with director Zena Conlin and legendary local geo-explorers Charles Helm and Kevin Sharman. Both of the latter seem to make new finds every year, not only adding to knowledge of the area but also to its geological record, expanding it ever backwards into the early history of life on Earth. Over the past few summers, Sharman has even discovered

Cambrian stromatolites (cushion-like fossils of mats built up by ancient cyanobacteria) revealed on high peaks by retreating glaciers that have pushed that horizon in the area back to at least a half-billion years.

New finds open up new places to both rave about and visit, and the hiking around here is expansive and diverse. Since my first visit in 2011, many hikes have been developed for easier access as part of the UNESCO Global Geopark. Outstanding and relatively easy walks

include the Boulder Gardens and the so-called Shipyard and Titanic—oddly shaped sandstone formations exposed on hillsides. On my first visit, at a more difficult hike into a canyon called Quality Creek, I was taken first by the beauty of staircase pools linked by waterfalls that fired off into space and gurgled down stacks of thin sandstone pancakes, and then by the underside of a dinosaur footprint; pressed down from above, the sediment it was made in eroded away, revealing the scales on

the animal’s foot. It doesn’t get more real than that.

ANOTHER WELL-TROD AREA is Babcock Creek, which we visit the next day with Dee Roscher and Jolaina “JoJo” Hahn of JADEfit, adventure guides who lead us on a seven-kilometre ski that alternates between the creek’s now iced surface and its snowed-over sandbars. We reach the Babcock Seeps, well-formed curtains of knobby candles built by freeze-thaw cycles and

Leslie Anthony X2

dyed a dark-yellow leached from the surrounding soil and friable rock layers. Walking behind them, I see what amount to icy analogs of stalagmites and stalactites; frozen water is apparently a theme hereabouts, something that continues into our afternoon.

At the local airport, JADEfit lays out a restaurant-worthy lunch of butter chicken with rice and naan before we embark on a heli-tour with local company Ridge Rotors. My aim here is simple: I want to see all the places I’ve adventured over these few days as well as in the past, and sew them together into the kind of a mental geography bitmap that two-dimensional paper can’t create. Though not as bad as the previous day, the wind is still stiff in the face of an advancing weather front. Our pilot Jotham spends an hour expertly showing us rivers, lakes, mountains, snowghost forests and numerous waterfalls. The nooks and crannies of many fossil finds come to life, as do the coal mines’ strategic location and the far-reaches of Monkman Provincial Park, so much easier to understand from above.

But perhaps the best moment of all was how our heli-tour started. Following the Murray River much as Randy Gulick does in summer with his jetboats, we swooped along the iced-over watercourse all the way to the bottom of frozen Kinuseo Falls, where we got that million-dollar front-on-view after all.

One of the more interesting and shorter hikes in Tumber Ridge is a visit to "The Shipyard and Titanic.” Below: The Boulder Gardens.

Wine Climate The Okanagan’s

FROM HOTTER SUMMERS TO COLDER WINTERS AND THE CONSTANT THREAT OF WILDFIRE, THE OKANAGAN’S WINERIES ARE BEING FORCED TO ADAPT TO CLIMATE CHANGE

BY JANE MUNDY

Courtesy of Tantalus Vineyards

Blasted Church Vineyards is experimenting with new grape varieties to adapt to extreme temperatures.

In response to climate change, Okanagan winemakers and shakers are advising consumers to be openminded with new grape varieties and styles. They suggest stocking up on your favourite wines for the next two years, particularly if you’re fond of the big reds. But it’s not all bad news for consumers. Although last winter’s cold snap left winemakers with fewer grapes, we won’t have to pay more for BC wine, according to Miles Prodan, president and CEO of Wine Growers British Columbia (WGBC).

WINERIES HARDEST HIT with last winter’s extreme cold are located mainly north and south of Lake Okanagan, such as Oliver and Osoyoos (stock up on Osoyoos Larose now). Those wineries further south saw primary bud damage (that holds the fruit) and even vine death, while the Naramata Bench and Summerland were relatively unscathed. So, depending upon where they are located, some vintners are experimenting with new grape varieties that are more resistant to cold, heat or drought conditions. “Extreme weather events are definitely hurting our industry. We are considering planting cold-hardy vines and possibly vines more adapted to summer heat, “says Evan Saunders, winemaker at Blasted Church. “We are exploring the Austrian reds. This spring we planted cabernet franc because last winter it proved

to be more cold-hardy, and we planted nebbiolo, which is grown in Northern Italy, into the Alps. It produces gorgeous perfumed wines but doesn’t love the cold so it’s a gamble, fingers crossed.”

Saunders is ripping up pinot noir and pinot gris vines that got baked on a steep and rocky western-facing slope. Malbec was also damaged but it might be able to survive the winter

Courtesy of Blasted Church Vineyards, BC Wine Passport

because last year Blasted Church only hit -21ºC. Lake Skaha saved it, like Lake Okanagan protected Summerland and Naramata.

Another silver lining for the consumer: 2022 produced high-quality and higher volume whites so there’s ample to go around, at least for this year. “The true impact of last winter will be seen next year when the 2022 reds hit the market; maybe we won’t have syrah or malbec and the Rhone-associated varieties seem to have suffered the worst. But cabernet sauvignon and merlot are survivors.” Saunders says a whole block

Jon Adrian

of syrah died, which translates to 560 cases.

Winemakers are discussing the possibility of bringing in grapes from Ontario and Washington State but that will be tricky because the wine won’t be VQA. ( BC Vintners Quality Assurance wines are made from 100 percent BC-grown grapes, which must be approved through a strict quality assurance program.) “We are just trying to farm responsibly and sustainably; we are not spraying and building up biodiversity so when cold events do happen, vines will have the strength to go

it alone,” adds Saunders. “There’s a lot of doom and gloom right now but we have to carry on.”

Winemaker David Patterson has experienced consistently lower temperatures and damage for the past five years at Tantalus Winery in Kelowna. “Vines are really hardy but a drastic climate swing (-27º C last year and further south it was -31º C) damages primary buds,” he explains. “Vines can survive the heat dome but cold also damages connective tissue in the trunk and cane, which resulted in an overall 50 percent loss in our vineyards.” Thankfully, a

Vines can survive the heat dome, but the cold resulted in an overall 50 percent loss in our vineyards

large crop in 2022 means supply won’t be impacted right away, and the 2020 to 2022 vintages are selling now, but Patterson predicts Tantalus will have a shortage in a few years if extreme cold continues. If we have more extreme winters, old vines, particularly the classic European vitis vinifera varieties— considered to make the best wines but are frost-prone—may get pulled out and replaced with some French hybrids that are more drought-tolerant and winter-hardy but lower quality.

BESIDES RIPPING OUT the vines

there are all sorts of agricultural solutions. A free yet labour- intensive solution is to arrange the canopy, ie, the leaves, to protect grapes from direct sunlight. And there are high-tech solutions, including highly calibrated ways of misting the vines to cool them and targeted irrigations that manage water much better in times of drought. “There are steps farmers can take but the question is how long will it be effective and how quickly will govern-

ment and society work with us to mitigate the long-term effects of climate change,” says Patterson.

Add to the fray smoke damage from wild fires. Smoke can coat the skins with chemicals, and these particles can make wine “taste like an ashtray,” according to a National Geographic article. Skin is crucial to making red wine, and the longer you soak the juice with the skins, the more the chemicals from the smoke are extracted into the wine. In 2020, far less red wine was made in

California and Oregon due to smoke taint.

“I’m looking outside my kitchen window at 10 acres of pinot noir and gamay we planted two years ago—they are thriving and loving life,” says Christine Coletta, co-founder of Okanagan Crush Pad Winery, a family-run winery in Summerland and home to their Haywire label. “Some bushes got hit hard so I pruned them back but with another hard winter they might give up the ghost.” While Coletta is cautiously

optimistic, she admits that help and support from the government is needed. For instance, cash injections for replanting helped blueberry farmers who lost thousands of acres of crops due to flooding, but it’s more of a dire situation with the wine industry because they both grow and process grapes, like a blueberry grower making and selling jam.

“Seeing the overall impact of the damage now, we’re discussing what to

plant,” adds Coletta, but it’s not simply black and white, or north and south of the lake. “For instance, sauvignon blanc is fine here but the vines across the road are in a bit of a dip with a cold spot and they are not OK. And a massive hailstorm or locusts could hit Summerland so we’re never smug: Farmers know that one day we will get hit, whether growing grapes or cherries—it comes with the territory.”

David Paterson, Tantalus general manager and winemaker.

Courtesy of Tantalus Vineyards

THE WGBC RECENTLY reported that last December’s freeze caused significant damage to grapevines, resulting in devastating short-term and long-term effects on BC’s wine grape crops. “Following budbreak, our industry-wide research concluded that our worst fears were realized with a 54 percent reduction in 2023 and 45 percent of total planted acreage suffering long-term irreparable damage,” said Miles Prodan, president and CEO of WGBC.

Insurance coverage is falling short for many growers. For instance, one insurer will pay $7 per plant that is destroyed but a replant costs $15. While there are provincial support programs in place, most everyone agrees that both provincial and federal government help is needed to sustain not only the wineries but local businesses, from bottle and cardboard makers to tax revenues paid to the government. And of course, the tourism industry—an estimated 1.2 million tourists visit Okanagan wineries yearly.

The report found the following:

• 45 percent of total plant acreage suffered long-term damage.

• 29 percent of total acreage needs to be replanted.

• $133 million in direct winery revenue loss.

• More than $200 million in indirect economic revenue loss to suppliers, BC Liquor Stores, restaurants, and so on.

• A 20 percent reduction in fulltime vineyard and winery employment—381 full-time jobs will be lost. Tasting rooms could close.

While the projected losses are widespread throughout the province, wineries in the south Okanagan Valley, Kelowna and Similkameen Valley can potentially lose 60 percent or more in grape and wine production for the 2023 vintage. As for variety, syrah, merlot and cabernet sauvignon have suffered the most with losses over 65 percent.

BUT AS EVAN Saunders says, it’s not all doom and gloom. Some studies suggest that if BC experiences a warmer climate, it could dictate a shift to warmer grape varieties. While some countries “need to pivot their wine-growing strategies to mitigate heat damage, it also means that other cooler climates are seeing longer, hotter summers and therefore an increased capacity for wine produc-

“

Some studies suggest that if BC experiences a warmer climate, it could dictate a shift to warmer grape varieties

tion,” wrote Elizabeth Yu for an economic report at McGill University. While these changes do not bode well for the imported wines Canadians like, there may be a new opportunity of growth for Canada’s wine industry. For instance, if Vancouver Island becomes warmer and drier, the region would be well suited for a major expansion in wine production, like how southern England now produces de-

cent chardonnay.

Saunders refers to himself as a cockeyed optimist. “The future in BC is positive—if we put our heads together and fund research to mitigate challenges we are facing. We could collect data from weather stations placed in vineyards that will show where damage occurred, what is working where: basic information when planting a vineyard,” he says. “Over the next 10

years we can take steps to understand our region—the WGBC is already working on this. We are all in with one crop a year, and we get one shot at it.”

Wine growing is tough, and farmers are tough. It’s not like making beer— batch after batch. While they are working hard to craft premium wines, they need help not only from the government but from consumers, so let’s all stock up on BC wines, now.

Tantalus Winery in Kelowna expects shortages if extreme cold weather continues.

Courtesy of Tantalus Vineyards

Excerpts from A SEASON ON VANCOUVER ISLAND

BY BILL ARNOTT (ROCKY MOUNTAIN BOOKS, 2022)

A FEELING OF DEPARTURE, AND POSSIBILITY

Ten thousand horses rumble to life. With a diesel vibration, water churns into chop and a blue and white ferry shoves us into the strait, in the direction of Vancouver Island. On the other side of the water, Nanaimo. Snuneymuxw. Coast Salish land. A sense of connection is what I feel, gazing through open steel portals. The horses pick up their pace, trot to canter, as a ripple ricochets through rivets and railings. The result, a feeling of departure, and possibility.

It’s what I felt as a child, venturing into hills behind our home on a north arm of Okanagan Lake, bubbles of land carved by glaciers, the big lake fed by a narrow, deep creek. It was that sense of departing on a grand adventure that’s never gone away, each time I’m off somewhere new. Even places familiar, for that matter, seen for the first time again. As a kid I’d pick a stick from the deadwood, pry my way through barbed wire like a wrestler entering the ring, and climb. Over the hill cattle grazed, and the land beyond that was orchard. It always smelled dry. Of course, I’d take care, watching for cow pies, rattlesnakes and undetonated mortars. An army camp was across the lake, and a few decades ago the arid grass banks served as target practice, bombs lobbed across the water.

First things first. This is a part of the world that I love. Vancouver Island and its surrounding archipelago, British Columbia’s Gulf Islands, remain one of the planet’s most magical regions. When Rocky Mountain Books publisher Don Gorman asked if I’d write a memoir about time spent here and include original visual art, not only was I delighted, but eager. Truth be told, I’d have created it anyway. Only now we can experience it together. Which is an incredible privilege, sharing vignettes and digitally painted photos, discovering new and familiar sites: forest, sea, the lands of Indigenous Nations. I’ve included a note as to names and transliteration, doing my best to accurately relay regional narratives. The result, I feel, is a time-bending present-day journey, imagery of place and people, recollection of past while glimpsing the future. Meanwhile the star of this show, the island, in fact each island and coast, continues to reveal remarkable, intimate secrets. It’s a sensory excursion I’m grateful and pleased to share. A season I hope you enjoy.

FNow, aboard a westbound ferry, the day’s rolling out somewhat dreamily. The ferry is full, the first at capacity in months, and the crew’s a bit overwhelmed by an onslaught of passengers awaiting their Triple-O burgers, like kids released into summer following a particularly miserable winter. A winter that’s lasted two years.

Our vehicle is on an upper deck berth aboard the MV Queen of Cowichan and we’ve chosen to stay put, hunkering in our well-worn car with the aroma of road trips, fast food, and bare feet.

Meanwhile, Horseshoe Bay’s showing off its photogenic cliffs and arbutus, copper-pistachio peelings of bark as though they’ve been outdoors too long, overdue for a coating of sunscreen. Bowen Island rises from sun-dappled water like a child’s likeness of a surfacing whale, a round hump of a back, the only things missing being flukes and a blowhole waterspout. Sounds and smells mingle, wafting amidst cars: cell phone chatter, sneaky second-hand smoke, laughter, coffee, the vibrating basso of ferry engine, and the inevitable bleat of a car alarm, its owner nowhere to be found.

Tatters of cloud stream past as we venture west by southwest. Midway across the Salish Sea we pass our doppelganger going the opposite way, the visual striking. A weather front’s hanging in place at the halfway point of

the crossing, a vertical line of rain and smudgy dark cloud, monochrome seascape in a rinse of blue-grey. I watch the ferry pass through the wall of weather, easing from dark to light, like Dorothy stepping from blustery Kansas to the technicolour of Oz. Unbeknownst to me we’re making our very own leap through a time-bending lens, as we’ve come for five weeks, but will go home in three months from now.

MEETING OF TRADITION AND PEOPLE

Our drive takes us south, a bit east and then north, our destination for now the Saanich Peninsula. We could take a ferry across Saanich Inlet from Mill Bay to Brentwood Bay, but today we’ll stay on the road, where vehicles have a decidedly summertime look: vans with bikes

on the back, cars tethered with kayaks, trucks with campers and trailers and rig-sized mobile homes.

It’s another hot day and we’re alternating between open air blasting through windows and spurts of air conditioning. Radio stations come and go, from North Island country hits to Nanaimo alternatives, occasionally signals from the mainland, and eventually Victoria radio dominates the dial as we follow the highway toward our provincial capital.

Despite a bakery stop it’s now time for lunch, which we’ve been looking forward to for a while. Songhees Food Truck (“Where People and Tradition Come to Meet”). A state-of-the-art Songhees Nation event centre is located nearby on Lekwungen land but today we’re simply hitting the food truck, now parked on Songhees land

on the snaggletooth peninsula of Esquimalt. The formula’s simple, though few do it so well: a modern take on traditional cuisine, prepared with fresh, sustainable ingredients, served by a friendly, knowledgeable team of locals. Without exaggeration, the salmon burger changed my life. A beautiful fillet of sockeye, grilled perfectly, served with Saskatoon berry BBQ sauce, onion marmalade and stinging nettle mayo. Served on fresh-baked Songhees Bannock.

We take seats at a shared picnic table in the sun, exchanging friendly nods with other midday diners. There’s not a lot of talk. People are here for the food. The energy is warm and welcoming, one of sharing. And with our first bites I simply chuckle, as this is some of the best food I’ve eaten.

Driving leisurely into Victoria, we

Bill Arnott is the bestselling author of the Gone Viking travel memoirs (Gone Viking: A Travel Saga, Gone Viking II: Beyond Boundaries, Gone Viking III: The Holy Grail) and A Season on Vancouver Island. He’s won numerous literary awards and for his expeditions received a Fellowship at London’s Royal Geographical Society. When not trekking with a small pack and journal, Bill can be found on Canada’s West Coast, where he lives near the sea on Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh land.

take time to suss out the area. The European-settled city dates back to the 1840s, one of the oldest in the Pacific Northwest. We navigate one-way streets through downtown and dawdle along in light traffic past the landmark Parliament Buildings and Legislative

Assembly, the sea ever present, peeking around buildings and trees. Between boat traffic, float planes, tour providers and ferries, the harbour is one of North America’s busiest.

This too is Coast Salish land, extending along the south and east of Vancouver Island. Cruising through Chinatown, I learn it’s the second oldest on the continent after San Francisco. Our drive meanders us by the finger of harbour where Perez and Cook moored their fleets, and the Royal BC Museum, a pivotal point on my Gone Viking expeditions when I gawked at a travelling exhibit of longships, treasure and artifacts brought here from Sweden. A map of the globe unfurled in my mind, spread on a meadstained table, imagined striped sails bent in the wind and the watery whoosh of ocean on steerboard, cutting its way toward Greenland.

Roof Top Patio opening Spring 2021

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Contemporary rooms and suites

highway. Our line was roughly 20 miles to the west of the now Highway 37. We emerged from the woods to a desert, the lava flow from Mount Edziza almost as barren, if colder, as when it was deposited a millennium ago.

Lava is some of the toughest rock there is—a road could be built only by adding fill, of which there was no nearby source. This was an impossible location; as air photos would have revealed. Why we were sent there remains incomprehensible to me. Our survey was abandoned. Later years saw

I was to leave camp, for university. The 30-mile hike alone to Telegraph was daunting. I left at dawn, with only a bag of dried fruit for sustenance. No firearms; armed only with that sense of invincibility of my age. Near one old camp a packhorse had broken its leg and sadly had been dispatched. The carcass was not far off the trail; packers had reported that grizzlies were gorging. Scared, but without choice, I started to shout a mile or so before the spot, clearly visible as I went by. Shouting may have worked. Not a bear to be seen. Relief! I continued until hoarse. Had I been taken, bits of me would

I reached the bank opposite Telegraph at dusk, and shouted to cross. The next day I hitched a ride down to Wrangell. What had been a three-day trip up took 12 hours. Then to Ketchikan by float plane, Pan Am to Se-

I often wonder how narrow an escape

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NARROW ESCAPE NEAR TELEGRAPH CREEK

BY JOHN EDMOND

I was 17 in the summer of 1954. With survey experience the previous summer, I was hired as chain-man—a step-up— for a party that was to locate a road for the BC Mines department. The Cassiar asbestos mine had opened a few years earlier, and a road to the nearest Canadian tidewater at Stewart was an urgent need to export the product.

For a Vancouver boy, this was to be the adventure of a lifetime. But I had no foreshadowing that a rash decision

Iin the fall would endanger my life. Telegraph Creek, 167 miles up the Stikine River from its mouth, was to be our jumping-off point. We sailed in luxury from Vancouver to Wrangell, Alaska, on the CPR’s Princess Louise, then up the Stikine in freshet aboard Judith Ann, an outboard-driven barge with a freight and a passenger deck. At the Little Canyon, well past the US border and the cottonwood-laden lowlands, a line was wrapped around successive big trees, and we winched through.

After three days we reached Glenora, end of the road from Dease Lake and head of navigation in the freshet. A truck ride in to Telegraph and an overnight, we were then across the river to

start our two-day packhorse trip, first on the 1860s Telegraph Trail, still wellused, then struck out to the east, past Buckley Lake for a swim, to where our road survey would start. Location was identified by aerial photos, BC having been covered thoroughly. With two overlapping photos and an optical device, a 3D representation arose, to be matched to the ground. We found our prescribed starting point, 30 miles or so out.

May to September was our season. We set up camps over the summer. North first, to the brink of the Grand Canyon of the Stikine— a major bridge would be needed. Then south. By early September we had produced perhaps 20 miles of survey for the proposed Cassiar-Stewart

Continued on Page 81

Above: The SS Judith Ann leaving Telegraph Creek.

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GO FORTH, PLAY HARD, COME BACK AND REJUVENATE