One of the greatest things about the Pacific Northwest are the summers. While many months of the year are cool, wet, and gray, summers are defined by blue skies, pleasantly warm temperatures, and lush landscapes - the perfect combination for adventures into the unknown.
Looking for the perfect getaway, wildfires blazing from Oregon to Montana made our usual spots a little less appealing. Widening our search area, I wondered if Canada - which I've visited a few times, but @mrs.turbodb has never explored in the Tacoma - could be the perfect solution.
And so, we're headed into British Columbia, to enjoy the mountains and valleys that cover this beautiful swath of land to the north. To destinations where we'll find ourselves relaxing in hot springs one moment and gazing over grand glacial valleys the next. Where we'll ferry across lakes on our way to vast vistas over the Kootenay Mountains.
In the heart of summer, and after confirming that the weather guessers were predicting sunny skies and short-sleeve shirts, we headed north and crossed the border shortly before 8:00am to little fanfare. A couple hours later - at the south end of Harrison Lake and the little town of Harrison Hot Springs - we pulled over to air down and leave the pavement behind.
Almost before we started, the sunny sky forecast was looking questionable.
In an unusual case of thinking-ahead, we'd realized the night before our departure that getting on the road by 6:30am would likely preclude any sort of breakfast and would mean that our usual lunch stops would still be closed as we pushed north into British Columbia. As such, I'd made a beeline to the nearest Jimmy John's, and we'd packed the tasty subs along with the rest of our sustinence in the Dometic fridge.
Our stomachs empty, we were both ready to eat as we wound our way along the edge of Harrison Lake. All we needed to do was find a spot with a view!
Despite the cloudy skies, temperatures were quite pleasant as we parked the Tacoma and set up our chairs on this old logging platform overlooking the lake.
I do always love the teal blue waters of British Columbia.
Our first real destination was an old fire lookout a few hours - by dirt - north. A spot that I'd marked a few years earlier, we'd be in for what shouldn't-have-been-a-surprise when we got there, but for now, we enjoyed a windy - but reasonably well graded - path along Shovel Creek towards Nahatlatch Provincial Park.
As we gained elevation, we admired the terrain whenever we popped out of the trees.
Creek crossings were plentiful, and the brilliant water stopped us every time.
Eventually, as we wound our way through tree tunnels that are so common here in the Pacific Northwest - or, perhaps, the Canadian Pacific Southwest? - we reached the Shovel Creek Falls. A dramatic narrowing of the riverbed through ancient layers of stone, we popped out of the truck for a closer look at the precipitous drop.
Spilling over the edge.
Carving through a kaleidoscope of color and texture.
Eventually, the trail from Harrison Lake climbs to - and through - Kookipi Pass on the way to Nahatlatch, and as we transitioned from one FSR (Forest Service Road) to the next, we adjusted the frequency of the radio to pick up traffic on the new designated channel.
A picturesque road up and over Kookipi Pass.
As an aside: Resource Road Channels
One cool thing in British Columbia - and for all I know, the entirety of Canada - is that nearly every FSR has a specific radio channel associated with its use. These Resource Road (RR) channels allow loggers - and other FSR users - to communicate with each other as they barrel through the forest.
I've known of their existence ever since my first trip to Canada, but I've always assumed that they were some special set of frequencies that only Canadian users - with Canadian radios - could tune in to.
This time, however, I thought I'd see if I could find out a bit more about them. To my delight, I discovered that the frequency for each of the channels was well within the tunable range of my Ham radio, allowing us to listen in - and even participate - in the fun this time!
It was as we began down Kookipi Creek FSR that radio traffic picked up dramatically. With fuel trucks, rock trucks, and excavators all calling out positions and plans to refuel, we assumed that a mining operation was taking place nearby. Soon though, as we passed a rock truck on the side of the road - its tank guzzling gas at a rate that would quickly empty an entire bank account - we realized that these guys weren't out in search of shiny metal, rather, they were fixing up the road for the likes of us!
Several washouts over the winter were the reason the heavy metal had been called in.
As the excavator operator pulled off to the side to let us pass, he keyed up his mic to tell his coworkers that a pickup (that's us!) had come through. The look on his face as I replied with a heartfelt, "Thanks for all the hard work, guys," was priceless, as I'm sure these guys don't get a lot of praise for the critical work they perform, keeping these trails open for our enjoyment.
It was only when we got to the bottom of the road, as we sheepishly made our way through a gate - luckily unlocked due to the ongoing work - that we discovered that the road was technically closed due to blasting necessary to complete the repairs!
Technically closed, but not signed as such from the opposite direction!
Working our way down Nahatlatch FSR toward the spur that would take us to the fire lookout - and as we turned up the trail toward the top of the mountain - we were surrounded by the aftermath of a forest fire that I'd completely forgotten. Raging through the area just a year earlier, the Kookipi Creek Fire.
Even as the hillsides changed from green to black, it was still a beautiful area.
Caused by lightning and discovered on July 8, the fire exploded on Aug. 17, fanned by high winds through the Fraser Canyon area. The wooden tower was consumed within seconds, with the event caught on video by Lyttonet, the area’s internet service provider, which had a camera near the tower.
The original Nahatlatch tower - constructed in 1957 by the BC Forest Service - played a significant role in fire lookout construction history for its pioneering use of helicopters to determine if it was economically feasible to transport pre-fabricated lookouts to remote locations. Flight log records indicate that 37 flights were needed to complete the delivery of materials to the high elevation site in late May 1957. The experiment was deemed a success, and helicopters went on to play a prominent role in fire lookout construction throughout B.C.
Over the years the lookout became a popular spot for hikers, ATV clubs, and geocaching enthusiasts for both day-use visits and overnight stays. However, the high elevation and exposure to the elements gradually took their toll, and in the winter of 2011 the 54-year-old structure collapsed under the weight of a heavy snowfall.
As part of a project to restore five retired fire lookouts for the BC Forest Service’s centennial in 2012, Recreation Sites and Trails BC (RSTBC) selected the Nahatlatch Lookout for a complete restoration. In a mammoth volunteer effort over two weekends, more than 25 people - including representatives from RSTBC, Fraser Wildfire Management, The Four Wheel Drive Association of BC, South Western All Terrain Trails, Nahatlatch Valley cabin owners, and the local geocaching community - rebuilt the tower.
After climbing a reasonably rough last couple miles of road, we reached the site of the lookout just after 3:00pm. Like all lookouts, this one sported a commanding view of the surrounding terrain. Charred remains covered the old site, little cleanup having taken place since the devastating flames raged across the ridge.
A once inaccessible parking spot.
It was hot up here.
Surely, a plaque that will be updated when the lookout is rebuilt for the second time.
Kudos to the 4WDABC.
With not much to see - and quite a few miles before we'd reach camp for the night - we didn't spend long at the site of the old Nahatlatch Fire Lookout. Instead, we sped our way back down the mountain, warm rays of the sun trying dutifully to illuminate the green valleys as we worked our way north.
Shadows and light.
It was dinner time when we arrived in Lillooet, where some tasty A&W chicken sandwiches and root beer really hit the spot.
We weren't looking forward to A&W - both of us remembering it to be "not the best" when we first ventured into Canada with @mini.turbodb when she could still fit in the back of the Tacoma - but this time the burgers were great, the fries were salty and fresh, and of course, the root beer was frosty cold; it was a surprisingly delicious pit stop.
From Lillooet, our final destination - still 50 miles north - sat at the top of an ominously named Poison Mountain. It was a place we'd never visited, and where we hoped the bark was worse than the bite. Whatever the situation, we knew that we'd likely arrive shortly after sunset, any views from the summit, an experience we'd enjoy the next morning. For now, it was time to stop taking photos and put the skinny pedal to good use.
The light played across Bridge River and surrounding mountains as we rolled out of Lillooet.
I couldn't pass up this view, even if we were in the rush.
Eventually, it was time to play "turn on all the lights" like true overlanders. We couldn't stand it though, so we turned off all but the fogs as soon as the camera went back in the bag.
Speeding along, I almost missed an interesting rock along the side of the road. Covered in "modern" red paint pictographs, it was a striking bit of art, and one I wanted to capture, even if it wasn't historical, and even if some of the figures were a little more cartoonish than we were used to seeing on some of our adventures south.
It was only the next day that we'd realize that these were not graffiti.
After a steep climb straight up the side of Poison Mountain, we arrived in a purplish twilight. Clouds sped across the sky. Wind whipped by the Tacoma as we positioned the nose into the wind.
The beginning of an unexpectedly wet night.
Update: 2024-09-18 | Poison Mountain may be closed
Upon posting this story, I was contacted as a heads up to let me know that there is some controversy about whether Poison Mountain is open or not. When we were there, we stopped and inspected the signage that was posted on the road (see image below) and verified that the roads we were travelling were not marked as closed. However, I'd recommend not travelling this route until more details are uncovered. For now, here's what the 4WDBC group has to say via a post on their facebook group.
You may have heard rumours recently regarding Poison Mountain being closed to motor vehicle access. After extensively browsing government data sources and talking to officials at multiple levels of government (including a now-retired CO from the area), we can confirm that yes, Poison is a no-go zone for 4x4s.
Probably.
What follows is a long read, so grab a bevvie and some popcorn and settle in.
Earlier this year, the government released new maps via the Motor Vehicle Prohibitions page outlining different areas closed to different types of access. On that page is a map of the Red Mountain/French Mountain area that encloses everything connected to those peaks above 1920m. That area encompasses Poison Mountain in its entirety, as well as about a 1km section of the road between Mud Lakes and China Head.
Prior to this year, the actual legislation had a convoluted description of the closure area rather than a map - if you weren't a GIS expert or didn't have access to detailed topo maps, it wouldn't make any sense. However, the previous wording did specifically mention 1920m as the cutoff, and looking at a topo map, that area does enclose Poison and the through road.
I've been able to find versions of the legislation as far back as 2008, and they all say the same thing: over 1920m is closed to motor vehicles, period.
Now for the "yabbuts"...
If you're navigating the area with Gaia, BRMB, or other similar apps, they show a closure around Red and French Mountains that DOES NOT encompass Poison Mountain AT ALL. In fact, they show the same thing as the government-erected sign at the southeast end of Yalakom FSR (see photo).
Signage posted on the road to Poison Mountain shows it as not closed.
There is a specific exemption for the road through China Head (listed as "Big Bar/Yalakom Rd." on the MVPR map, "China Head FSR" on other maps), but without being able to pass through that one kilometer north of Poison, that road doesn't really go anywhere, so is this cutting off an access route? The argument might be made that this is a "highway," which would automatically exempt it from the restrictions... but if it's considered an FSR, that would exempt it from being a highway... probably (there's another section of the Motor Vehicle Act that might mean it's a highway anyway).
We're told that the route around the south of Poison is an allowable detour, but that's 17km of some very sketchy trails... and still cuts through the edge of the 1920m area. This leaves the argument that the direct route to the north of Poison is by far the more "tread lightly" of the two and should be preferred.
The sum of all this is: assume Poison Mountain itself and the route to the north of Poison connecting China Head and Mud Lakes are CLOSED TO MOTOR VEHICLES. This is the word we've been given by Conservation Officers and District Recreation Officers.
If you choose to go anyway, be aware that significant penalties can be involved if you're caught (I've heard one story of $2500 in fines and a vehicle seizure for one local who wilfully ignored a direct warning from a CO). You may not want to post any photos or tracks of that part of your adventure, either.
So, WHAT IS THE 4WDABC DOING TO REPRESENT MEMBERS IN THIS MATTER?
- We're continuing to talk with the various ministries involved; in particular, we're trying to open a dialog with the wildlife people to find out what their specific concerns are and if there's anything we can do to mitigate them.
- We're looking at different aspects of the legislation that apply here, with several different areas overlapping and some possibly conflicting.
- We're also investigating specific stewardship opportunities in the area that could be aided by wheelers having access, at least to the through route, and provide an incentive to keep the route open.
- And we've had at least one member state he's willing to get a ticket and take it to court to argue different angles for continued access (we commend his dedication but DO NOT recommend anyone do this).
We'll soon be updating the website with more details and links, but wanted to put the word out now as the subject is top of mind.
The following morning...
It was a windy night, but with earplugs in, the tent doors closed tight, and a long day of driving behind us, we both slept soundly on the always-comfortable Exped mattress. Until, that is, my alarm went off at way-too-early-o'clock, and I struggled into my clothes to capture what I hoped would be an amazing view of the landscape around us.
The tent door was soaking as I unzipped it to exit our cocoon. It hadn't rained, but overnight we'd literally been in the clouds and a thick layer of dew covered every surface.
Perched at the top of the mountain, there wasn't much to see.
Clouds nestled into the valleys below.
We hadn't noticed the previous evening, but we'd been kept company by R2D2!
After putzing around for a bit - hoping that the sun would burn off the clouds, but knowing it would not - we ate breakfast and dried off the tent as best we could with a beach towel. Then, with another long day of travel ahead of us, we pointed the truck downhill and crossed our fingers that the brakes would hold.
I assure you, it was steeper and looser than it looks.
Our plan had been to descend the mountain and then head out the way we'd come, but after a quick look at the maps, we realized that the trail continued around the base of Poison Mountain, adding only a couple of miles to our long trek back to Lillooet. Initially, we decided against this reroute - given a marshy area shown along the way - but after a bit of hmming and hawing, we decided we could always turnaround, and that a change of scenery would be nice.
Around we go!
We came on this little hunting cabin, or mining cabin, or... as we zipped around the mountain.
Our decision was definitely #worthit!
There was only one spot along the route back to town that had us on the edge of our seats. It was an off-camber squeeze over a landslide that I'd worried over a bit the previous evening as we approached it from the opposite direction. I'd been glad that @mrs.turbodb was ensconced in her after-dinner nap as I'd crept my way across. Even so, we were sideways enough at the top of slide that she'd woken up - muttering just a single word: "woah," - as we began our descent down the other side.
Narrow, loose, and tippy. My least favorite.
Ultimately, we were once again spared a sideways rollover into the river below, and as we sped down the road, we found ourselves wondering if the clouds would clear and when the weather we'd been expecting would reveal itself.
As we did, a sign along the side of the road suggested we slow down - we were entering what seemed to be a remote homestead of a Canadian First Peoples family - and we happily reduced our speed to 10 km/h as we passed through the property and were greeted by the smiling faces of the residents and a neighbor who'd come for a morning chat.
Less than a mile down the road - now the opposite direction from the homestead than the specimen I'd noticed the previous evening - we spotted another rock adorned with red paint pictographs.
It was an interesting discovery, and one that prompted a bit of discussion and - at least on my part - rethinking/reevaluation of the situation. Generally, when @mrs.turbodb and I come upon ultra-modern "rock art" - or any "art" really - on our trips, we're not thrilled about it. However, in this case - and assuming that it was created as part of a cultural tradition - it seemed much more acceptable.
Bright figures.
At first, I thought someone had shot at the animals, but it turned out that several of them had purposeful voids in their creation.
Howling at the moon.
Wolf and deer.
This reminded me of the Thunderbirds we saw in Death Valley.
Soon, we were back on pavement and headed east. We had several hundred kilometers - nearly all on pavement - to cover before we'd reach our destination, but I knew it was one that would be appreciated by my copilot. We were headed to a hot springs!
Another great episode. Thanks.
Glad you enjoyed it Greg!
Swell rocks I have never seen on that waterfall.
Thanks for the great photos!
Thanks! Not sure I totally follow the rocks/waterfall comment, but both the rock art and waterfall were totally cool. Always nice to hear when you enjoy the photos!