Mountain biking in the Sea to Sky tends to set a very high standard. We have the best bike park in the world in Whistler, some of the biggest granite slabs in Squamish and terrain that lets builders craft some of the most incredible advanced trails in the world.
Spoiled, we most definitely are.
The thing about bike trails, however, is they need someone to build them. And those builders need access, as do the mountain bikers who want to ride the trail after it’s completed. That limits where mountain bikers can go, especially in the backcountry.
Trails like Whistler’s (now iconic) Lord of the Squirrels are a bit of an exception. It was built after extensive consultation by the Resort Municipality of Whistler’s Trails Planning Working Group and the build itself required extensive funding and resources. Into the Mystic is a machine-built highway compared to many alpine climb trails in other parts of the world, and Lord of the Squirrels (construction led by WORCA’s lead trail builder Dan Raymond) is designed so well that every ability from intermediate to expert can have the time of their lives on the descent.
If you want to get into the real backcountry, however, purpose-built trails like Lord of the Squirrels are few and far between. Commercial operators like AlpX (owned and operated by Blackcomb Helicopters) have invested in alpine trail building, but those trails are very expensive to access with a helicopter. The next frontier of backcountry mountain biking is a bit further out, and also has aircraft-assisted access available—the South Chilcotin Mountains, often colloquially referred to as “the Chilcotins.”
I first rode in the Chilcotins more than a decade ago as part of a media promotion with Mountain Biking BC and remember the area exceeding its reputation for adventure. Even if you hop aboard the float plane into the backcountry with Tyax Adventures (our group did not), getting around the Chilcotins is a very different experience from pedalling up on a machine-built trail and descending hand-built singletrack. Long before bikes showed up, the South Chilcotin Mountains were a popular horsepacking destination and a few outfitters still operate in the area. And long before that, the Tsilhqot’in, St’at’imc, and Secwepemc Nations first established the network of trails, linking key routes through Elbow Pass, Warner Lake, Tyaughton Creek, Spruce Lake, and Gun Creek.
A couple weekends ago, I returned to the Chilcotins for the first time since 2014. A couple of friends (who’ve both explored multiple times over the years) were interested in covering some ground with zero assistance from aircraft. Needing to whip myself into mental shape for a big hike next month, I figured it was as good a time as any to return to this alpine riding mecca.
We parked the truck at the top of the Taylor Creek 4x4 access trail, happy to cut about 45 minutes of gravel road pedalling out of the day. We set off on the Taylor Creek Trail, a doubletrack climb that winds along the flanks of Taylor Peak and Eldorado Mountain. Not long after breaking through into the alpine, the trail got steeper and we resorted to pushing our laden bikes and packs up to the first of many mountain passes this weekend. A rough doubletrack descent followed, where my borrowed handlebar bag (with a sleeping bag stuffed into it) bounced with every bump and obscured the view of my front wheel, making me instinctively hit the brakes more before every corner. I made a mental note to adjust it later, but at that moment, we had to stay on schedule.
The next push took us up High Trail to Windy Pass, where we stopped for lunch and got swarmed by horseflies. I was too exhausted to care, waving them away as I chomped on dried sausage, a block of cheese and a stack of mini tortillas. The descent down from the pass had some great mountain biking with fast and flowing sections intermixed with dusty, technical corners. But it was over quite quickly, and the final grind began.
Most mountain bikers riding into South Chilcotin Mountains Provincial Park would probably call that a day and set up camp on the shores of Spruce Lake. But my friends had other plans. We were scheduled to meet our other friends (who flew into Lorna Lake that morning) at Bear Paw Camp, another 20 kilometres away. The remaining 500 metres of vertical didn’t seem too painful, but the remaining trail ahead was rough in places with a handful of river crossings. Travel became a sequence of pedal, push, ride, repeat. Every part of my body hurt, from sunburn on my neck to my back muscles from hauling a pack full of food, clothes and shelter, to my aching butt from hours in the saddle.
We triumphantly rolled into Bear Paw Camp where our friends were waiting, and they handed us a beer each. The stats for the day are 42.5 kilometres of travel with 1,885 metres of elevation gain.
I had two more days ahead of me. That beer never tasted better.
Vince Shuley was well overdue for some real adventure biking. For questions, comments or suggestions for The Outsider, email [email protected] or Instagram @whis_vince.
