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Portaging between industry and tourism

Story and photos by Alison Lapshinoff Pressing down on my shoulders were three litres of water, two litres of wine, a tent, sleeping bag and stove, a bag of food, my clothes and a small bottle of whiskey.
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Two ferry ride and 130 kilometers from Vancouver is Powell River canoe route, one the of main local tourist attractions.

Story and photos by Alison Lapshinoff

Pressing down on my shoulders were three litres of water, two litres of wine, a tent, sleeping bag and stove, a bag of food, my clothes and a small bottle of whiskey. Just ahead, my partner shouldered a similar weight, plus that of a 70 pound canoe balanced somewhat precariously over his head. Without the bulk of a large canoe restricting my view, the wide trail was easy to follow. It meandered along for nearly two kilometres beside a clear stream and through a lush, inviting forest of evergreens and deciduous trees, sprightly ferns and plush beds of thick moss.

Presently, we approached one of the many roughly constructed canoe rests built at intervals along the path that connected Lois and Horseshoe Lakes, and my partner stiffly eased the canoe off his broad shoulders, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. The campsite couldn’t be far now…

Located at the top of the Sunshine Coast, 130 kilometres north and two ferry rides away from Vancouver, the Powell Forest Canoe Route is one of Powell River’s main tourist attractions. Eight lakes ranging in length from one kilometre to 29 are connected by a series of short portages covering a total distance of nearly 60 kilometres. Over 20 basic forest service campsites constructed en route are free of charge and make the whole trip a comfortable five-day adventure.

Just ahead, the small, three-unit campsite came into view. Nestled in the forest beside a glassy Horseshoe Lake, picnic tables and an outhouse were provided. With evident relief, my partner eased himself of his burden and promptly began digging in my overstuffed pack for the bottle of whiskey. Only a few small chores remained. Drinking water had to be boiled, the tent set up and our food strung up in a tree, away from hungry wildlife.

A short exploration of the area soon revealed that tourism was definitely not the region’s mainstay, for just beyond a thin buffer of trees glared a massive clearcut.

Rooted in industry, Powell River’s major economic engine is the large, unsightly pulp mill that dominates a significant stretch of the waterfront and continually belches plumes of unsavory smoke into the atmosphere. Built in 1909, the Powell River Paper Company’s founders planned and built the town, ensuring employee housing was of sound construction, homes had ample room for gardens and the town itself had plenty of green space. Employing about 700 people, the pulp mill, now owned by Catalyst, was once the world’s largest producer of newsprint and today continues to keep Powell River’s pulp industry alive and well.

Although forestry is the economic backbone of Powell River, the area’s natural beauty and consistently mild weather are slowly drawing more tourists to the region. Its limited accessibility allows for a laid-back, low-key lifestyle that appeals to many, drawing artists, musicians and hobby farmers as well as industrial types, creating an extremely diverse community.

Tourists are beckoned by the perpetual sunshine, coming to fish in the calm, blue Pacific flanked by a rocky coastline, to kayak in Desolation Sound Marine Park, to explore the myriad of Forest Service Roads that provide access to countless recreation sites and to canoe on a multitude of inland lakes. Recreation opportunities abound, however an untouched wilderness it is not. The land is scarred by years of carelessly planned logging and peaceful excursions into the backcountry are frequently interrupted by the wails of a distant chainsaw.

The canoe route’s construction began in 1982 as a “make work” project for loggers collecting employment insurance. One of several projects, the men blazed trails between the lakes, constructing floats and bridges where necessary and clearing the small recreation sites that line the portages and lakeshores. Today, the route is still maintained by the Ministry of Forests, however, in some places, it is evident that its upkeep is not the first priority.

The eight kilometre paddle down Lois Lake became somewhat more of an adventure than anticipated. Owing to a dam at one end of the lake, the water was significantly lower than usual, exposing a myriad of tree trunks, usually submerged, creating an eerie maze that we navigated with the help of a few difficult-to-spot signs hanging unsteadily on their posts.

Arriving at what appeared to be the end of the lake, no sign of a portage was evident, just a rocky stream over which we towed our gear. Sinking to our knees in mud and cursing the relentless sun beating on our shoulders, I began to question the sanity of this endeavour. It was with poignant relief that we reached what would have been, had the water level not been so low, a clearly marked trail head.

The next morning, cup of hot and steamy, yet utterly distasteful instant coffee in hand, the previous day’s hardships were forgotten. An ethereal morning mist hung over the glassy lake, gently obscuring the adventures of a new day yet to unfold. Pondering the co-existence of two fundamentally different industries in a small town like Powell River, I couldn’t help wondering if one would eventually push out the other. Logging roads push into the backcountry, providing access to a multitude of special places that would otherwise be inaccessible, however, one cannot escape the reality that the road was built to facilitate the clearcut that mars what was once a perfect view.

Guiding our canoe through the stillness of the morning, I considered our almost total solitude along the Powell Forest Canoe Route. No reservations were necessary and our only expense that of the canoe rental. But the land surrounding us bore the scars of industry; the clearcut at my back a glaring reminder that this was not a pristine wilderness park. Throughout the entire journey, one is never far from a logging road.

Cutting swiftly through the water to the day’s destination, some six kilometres across Horseshoe Lake, a fish jumped and from somewhere in the distance we heard the screech of an eagle. For the time being the two industries seem to be able to co-exist, peacefully sharing the land. Tourism has a way of pushing out other industries. However, forestry, being the region’s major bread-winner, is probably not ready to shut down any time soon.