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They might be giants

Searching for peace in the Elaho

A mere three hours drive from Vancouver is a multi-day hike that will take you through some of the most pristine ancient rain forests remaining in Canada, yet relatively few people have been there. Journalist Robyn Cubie put on a backpack and went to find out why the Elaho Valley remains one of British Columbia’s best-kept secrets, despite all the media publicity over it in recent years.

Losses sustained

: one pair of hiking boots and one pair of socks (melted), one injured toe, skinned shins, a bruised backside from falling off a log bridge, three bee stings, annoying slow leak in two-litre bag of red wine (Australian).

Victories attained

: sightings of black bear and moose in the wild, the successful completion of a 22 km wilderness hike, a luxurious soak in natural riverside hot pools, a glimpse into another world where time stands still under the peaceful watch of the ancient forest giants and towering glaciers…

It is easy to couch the Elaho in terms of battles. After all, it is conflict that has largely brought this ancient coastal rain forest in British Columbia’s Lower Mainland to public attention. It is a series of battles that have been fought physically, verbally and in the offices of high government; by armies with opposing philosophies, ideologies and ways of life. As with all wars, it has turned ugly at times, with violence, threats and even a grandmother being thrown in jail.

The most high profile confrontation has been between environmentalists and the logging industry. To put it simply, one side wants to cut down trees for money while the other wants to leave them standing. However, as with any conflict, the issue is seldom that clear cut.

The battle is also about communities clinging to a traditional logging way of life, about individuals desperate to stop further human exploitation of the natural environment, and about a dispossessed people trying to reclaim what they say is their aboriginal birthright. Throw in the tourism industry and its interests in preserving wilderness areas for the purpose of drawing visitors, and you start to get a picture of the complexities involved. However the first step towards gaining any understanding of the issues is to experience the product itself – namely the Elaho Valley.

The day dawned bright but cloudy when Whistlerites Cavan Dykeman, John Meyer and I loaded up the truck and headed south. We turned off the highway at Brackendale and followed the forestry-logging road some 90 km northwest to the start of the Elaho-Meager Creek Trail – a 22 km passage built in 1995 by volunteers from the Western Canada Wilderness Committee as a tribute to Randy Stoltmann, who first proposed setting aside the Elaho as part of a greater protected park (see insert).

As we drove upstream to the Elaho River it changed from a wide, medium flow expanse of water, to fast whitewater rapids thundering through steep walled canyons, a sign perhaps of the wilder country ahead of us. After some impressive off-road driving we arrived at the trailhead near Lava Creek, an area that had been clear cut. The scenery wasn’t pretty, with hectares of ground scarred in red and black by logged and burnt trees.

Logging in the Elaho has been on hold this whole summer, in part due to an agreement between International Forest Products Ltd. (Interfor) and the Squamish Nation to suspend operations until a Land Use Plan by the First Nation can be completed. The market for timber has also shrunk, thanks to a new softwood tariff imposed by the United States. These factors have meant the atmosphere in the Elaho this year is a far cry from the previous two summers, when protesters camped out in trees and tried to block logging crews from advancing on forestry roads. Violence and sabotage were reported by both environmentalists and loggers. There was also significant damage to Interfor machinery. Charges were laid and court sentences were handed out on both sides.

However, in the summer of 2001 the silence in the Elaho is almost overpowering; the angry wasp sound of chainsaws just a memory. The air smelled damp from the recent rain. We pushed through the wet undergrowth and then entered a different world.

I’ve seen some big trees in my time – the giant Redwood Groves that California is so proud of, for example – but there’s something about this forest that sets it apart from any other. A writer should never be lost for words but "enchanted" is the best I could come up with. From the intermittent filtered light the forest seems to emit a luminous green glow. Stands of trees grow between abundant blueberry and huckleberry bushes, with the occasional 1,000-year-old Douglas fir or red cedar looming out of the undergrowth. Living within this environment are black bear, mountain goats, moose, wolves, cougar and a small number of grizzly bears. The silence and timelessness of the Elaho seems absolute, but when you listen you start to hear other noises – the faint roar of a river, the sigh of the wind through the trees and the gurgle of the many streams and waterfalls that run to the main Elaho River. As we hiked north up the trail zigzagging beside the Elaho, the canyon dropped away some 60 metres while the river surged and growled below our feet.

We camped that first night at Canyon Camp, just past the impressive Blueberry Falls and looking down over the Elaho River valley. The rain held off just long enough for us to get snugly cocooned in our tent. Warm, dry and with the day’s hike fresh in our minds, the reasons why people will risk jail to protect these ancient trees were now more apparent than they had been that morning. At the same time, Interfor’s interest in the timber was also obvious.

In addition to lessons about the grandeur of nature, that first day also yielded some practical lessons. Drying your hiking shoes near an open fire can result in boot meltdown – those plastic bits on the sides burn up mighty quickly. Thank goodness for trusty duct tape, which held my boots together for the rest of the hike.

Sadly, there was no saving the socks.

Day two was all about climbing a gradual 760 vertical metres out of the Elaho Valley and up to the Hundred Lakes Plateau via a series of rocky outlooks. As the WCWC map promised, "Each view point is more spectacular than the last." Rolling rain clouds alternatively revealed and hid the surrounding glaciers. Massive log bridges created by fallen giant trees were a frequent feature of the trail, as we carefully walked along the slippery bark tops. At last we reached Mist Lake camp, overlooking the first of many sub-alpine lakes of the plateau. We all agreed that the hike just kept getting better.

"I like standing here in the sunshine looking at the snow capped peaks, listening to some creeks nearby and to some soft tunes playing on my portable Walkman stereo," said Meyer. "It is the constant changing scenery that that makes this such an enjoyable hike."

Or as put more simply by Dykeman: "I’ve been enjoying everything. It is just f__ fantastic."

The higher altitude meant cooler temperatures, so we kept walking. Small streams and lush flower-filled meadows made it seem like a kind of Eden, although Adam and Eve would have to be hardy characters to run around naked with snowline so close by.

After a couple of hours we decided to call it a day. Rain and cold wind are the main ingredients for hypothermia. Besides, we had found the perfect camping spot. Looking south back down the Elaho Valley we had the Pemberton Ice Field on the left, the Meager and Elaho glaciers on the right, the Clendenning Range directly ahead and meadows all around. A full moon rose over the motionless silver landscape. Life was good.

Day three and the pressure was back on. We had about 10 km to cover to get to our buddy Paul Save, waiting at Meager Creek hot springs with a flat of cold beer. But then we encountered something we hadn’t seen the entire time we were out there: other people.

Mark Crosbie and Susan Hynes, originally from Newfoundland, were just up from Vancouver for the weekend, having hiked in from the Meager Creek end of the trail. They said organizing shuttles was a problem so they would be returning the same way.

Crosbie had no idea how spectacular the scenery would be.

"We were looking for a multi-day hike and it’s just so beautiful up here," he said. "It reminds me of Newfoundland with this wet woodland and views."

Hynes added that they would definitely return to hike the whole trail.

"We have done all the Pemberton area hikes and when we found out how close the Elaho was we just had to visit it," she said. "It is amazing but many people in Vancouver and people I work with, don’t know about it."

As we all stood atop of the plateau and gazed out over the spectacular Meager Creek Valley with its mix of green forest and clearcut scars, it seemed as good a time as any to raise the subject of logging. The subsequent conversation just reinforced the diverse opinions and passion people hold over the issue. While everyone thought preserving the Elaho was essential, opinions over logging and where boundaries should be drawn were far from unanimous. It seemed the old dichotomies of the logging-versus-preservation debate were as real here as in the boardrooms of government planning offices. And as a group of hikers, our values and interests were a lot closer aligned than most of the groups involved.

If you consider the main players in this debate – the logging communities that rely on forestry for their survival; environmentalists who are sickened by encroachment on remaining natural lands; and First Nations, who are fighting to reclaim their spiritual and cultural heritage, as well as a share of the forestry and tourism economic pie within their territories – it’s difficult to find common ground.

Next week, in Part II, we take the issue of logging and development in the Elaho to these main players themselves, and put the question to the Squamish Nation, Interfor, the WCWC and tourism operators: Is the war over, or is this just a pause in the conflict?



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