by Allison Macsas
The trek up to Bella Coola (or, at least the idea of it during pandemic times) has been part of my summertime lineup since 2019, and while I’ve long considered it one of the wildest places I’ve ever been, by the time this summer rolled around I was feeling like an old pro, ready to take charge and help two Run BC guiding newbies - Gabe & Kara - learn the ropes and meet the characters that make up the fabric of this particular Rogue Expeditions adventure. It’s a place that is challenging to reach even on a good day, and to understand that you must understand the landscape and why, while it isn’t actually that far north as far as British Columbia goes, it is very, very remote.
Bella Coola itself lies in a narrow valley on the North Bentinck Arm with steep, heavily forested slopes (The Great Bear Rainforest!) and glaciated mountains on both sides. There is one highway that connects this valley of 2,000 people to the rest of Canada, and the next outpost on the highway is that of Anahim Lake on the Chilcotin Plateau, home to about 1,500 people and reachable by a two hour drive that climbs a dramatically steep, unpaved section of that highway through Tweedsmuir Provincial Park - The Hill. Both of these places have a small airport, and both of them have notably different weather patterns; when planes can’t land in one spot, they go for the other and the airline - a guy named Doug, specifically - busses people where they need to go. It’s more common that planes can’t land in Bella Coola due to clouds that sit low between the mountain slopes, while the plateau is more reliably sunny, dry and fit for landing small planes. If you don’t want to fly, you can drive (that takes 12 hours from Vancouver) and if you don’t want to fly or drive, you can take a ferry (that also takes 12 hours, from Port Hardy, and goes twice per week in the high season). This is not an easy place to reach, and once you’re there you’re either staying in one of two small lodges, the odd rental cabin tucked back in the woods or you’re camping. No matter what, you plan your own food - locally there are three cafes in which you can pick up baked goods or sandwiches, but only on the days that they’re open, which is not every day, and only during the hours that they’re open, which tend to be variable. For dinner you’re on your own unless it’s Thursday or Saturday in the summertime (pizza night!) - there are no restaurants.
The remoteness is the appeal for us at Rogue Expeditions (along with the fact that our friend Fraser lives there and is key to making the magic happen), and is also the reason that 2023 has ended up at Plan Z. For our trip, we fly into and stay in the valley for the first three nights, backcountry camp in cabins for two nights at Turner Lake (halfway up the valley, within the park), then spend the final two nights at a lakefront lodge on the plateau. To make this all work for a group in a place that’s really not set up for tourism at all, we schedule group flights, book out a lodge in each spot a year in advance, drive the 4x4s, buy the groceries, stockpile the gear, hire our own cooks and take walkie talkies everywhere; it probably comes as no surprise that cell service is very, very limited. We run this trip in July because June is too wet & cold and because August is generally the time of wildfires and overactive bears.
Now that you have an understanding of what we’re working with, let’s delve into the timeline of how we got all the way from Plan A to Plan Z:
2 weeks before Trip 1:
I receive word via Fraser that the road - the Tote Road - that we use to access the trail that leads to and from our Turner Lake camp has been breached by the river and vehicles can no longer pass through; the only options are to go in and out on foot (adding 10km to our original run) or fly in / out. I lose sleep over this information.
1 week before Trip 1:
A region-wide burn ban goes into effect earlier than usual, meaning we can’t have a campfire at camp. I also lose sleep over this information, concerned about the ‘vibe.’
2 days before Trip 1:
Gabe and I check out the road ourselves, decide it’s too sketchy and too risky to go in on foot with a group of mixed abilities. We decide to eat the cost and fly everyone in and out. We redesign the itinerary. During the drive back we pull into a rest area and notice some clouds up the valley. Or is it smoke? We joke about there being a fire near camp - now that would complicate things!
Day 1, Trip 1:
At breakfast, a few hours before the group arrives, we receive word of a wildfire one valley away from camp - turns out, those weren’t clouds that we’d seen. It doesn’t appear that it will affect our camping plans, but it will affect our ability to see Hunlen Falls, and smoke is also a concern. I casually mention that maybe we should think about where people will sleep if we can’t go to Turner, but no one really thinks there will be a problem.
Day 2, Trip 1:
While the group is enjoying a river float, I get a call notifying me that all of Tweedsmuir backcountry has closed due to new fires, including our camp and the surrounding trails - which account for two nights accommodation and three of our planned runs. I scramble to shift dates and secure beds for 15 people for those two nights, which we’re able to do by reorganizing the itinerary again and finishing back at our valley lodge - some luck with availability was also in play. We redesign meal logistics. Redesign run plans again. Try to arrange the same for Trip 2, but no one has enough rooms available on those dates. We keep brainstorming and start looking into procuring lots of tents, anything to avoid cancelling Trip 2.
Day 3, Trip 1:
Everything goes according to plan. Fantastic day at Odegaard Falls and Purgatory Glacier.
Just like it said in the brochure!
Day 4, Trip 1:
Secure an in-town, front-country campsite and confirm enough tents for Trip 2. Feel confident that we’ll have a great, albeit revised, trip that next week. Depart the valley and head up The Hill for our stay on the plateau.
Day 5, Trip 1:
Since we aren’t spending the day at camp as planned, we (but not me, I went out to put a new run route together in anticipation of needing a backup) embark on an epic adventure with Tweedsmuir Air flying into Ape Lake in which clients become part of the scouting mission to a remote glacier. A huge success for Plan E! Or was it F? No matter, everyone is stoked. A celebratory dinner with excitement around the Rainbow Range (typically our grand finale run) the following morning ensues.
Ape Lake adventure!
Day 6, Trip 1:
Wake up to smoky skies. I wander into the lodge for coffee and am told that the pilots have discovered a new heat spot on the NASA website during their morning planning session, and it appears to be near the trail that we’re planning to run - I might want to look into it. The BC Wildfire app soon confirms that a new fire, growing rapidly, has begun pretty much right at our trailhead. We break the news at breakfast - Plan G, everyone! - and the run is replaced with morning canoes and an afternoon on local trails after the smoke clears out (yup, we needed that backup!). The run is great and we return in high spirits only to find out that this new fire has now shut down The Hill. The good news is that if we can’t get to the valley the next day then that means that no one can get out of the valley, which opens up space for us at this lodge the following night. We decide to wait for the next highway update, which is set for the following morning; everyone is certain that it will reopen quickly.
Sean, who originally designed and previously led this trip with me, checks in at some point on this day to see how it’s going and ask what we ended up doing about the Tote Road being flooded. Gabe and I laugh and try to recall a time when that was our primary concern - such innocence!
Day 7, Trip 1:
Run the local trails again early then pack up. The highway update comes at 10, and it’s just an extension of the closure. We unpack. Confirm another night at this lodge, cancel the other lodge, call the airline to request pick up at the airstrip on the plateau. They are happy to do so, but now it’s a late afternoon flight to Vancouver rather than a morning flight. One person will miss an international flight, two others will miss a train. They rebook and rework - the flight is rescheduled, another Seattle-bound group member offers to drive to two who will miss the train. We scrape together a lunch plan for the next day since everyone is sticking around later than expected. We try to go for a waterfall hike to avoid cabin fever but that road is part of the closure. Instead we spend a nice afternoon at a lake we’ve never seen before, where the group remains, as they have all week, in great spirits and up for anything.
Day 8, Trip 1:
Hit up the local trails again, pack up again. The Hill now has a pilot car every 2 hours. We go to a different spot on the same lake for a picnic and to have our end-of-trip awards ceremony sans any physical awards, since we left them at the valley lodge for the final dinner. Get group to the airport (really just an airstrip with a small waiting room) for their 4pm flight. Desk agent quietly tells me (the driver) that I shouldn’t leave until the plane physically shows up, “just in case.” I will it to arrive, as we really don’t have anywhere to house a group on the fly at this point. Eventually and after much nervous energy it does, so we guides say our goodbyes and rush to meet the last pilot car of the day at 5pm, which goes closer to 6pm. We get into the valley without incident, driving through a freshly burnt swath of forest. Seems like the fire has moved on and we have no worries about the next group; lots of rain is coming. Over dinner we let out a sigh of relief, rehash the week and agree that the coming trip will be a breeeeeze after everything that just got thrown at us! The universe snickers.
The Anahim Lake airport, where the plane will be land soon! Unless it doesn’t.
Off Day 1:
We now need more runs in the valley, so we scout a newly cut trail to a glacier that everyone has told us is epic. We get 1km into a very brushy, tight riverside trail and have a run-in with a grizzly and 2 cubs; luckily everything goes by the book (thanks Fraser!) and we all make it out in one piece, but we are all pretty shaken up and agree that we’re not going back there any time soon. Still need a new run, so we go check out another route in the afternoon, this one lower and better for the rain that’s in the forecast. We make some calls and secure a campsite with exactly enough cabins and cancel the tent spots, also better given the forecast. The highway is open. Things look good!
Off Day 2:
Success scouting another new run, finish errands, wash cars, do laundry, put in lunch orders for the week, let the next group know about the change in camping plans and prep them for a revised itinerary. They have all arrived in Vancouver, ready to meet us the following day. We settle into pizza night at the local cafe feeling good about everything, until someone casually mentions that they just heard the highway is closed again. No one knows why, and the next update is scheduled for the following afternoon.
One last (rainy!) trail check before the second group arrives (so we think)
Day 1, Trip 2:
We go early in the pouring rain to scout one final run, which is the best one yet! During the run our lodge calls to ask if we’re still coming, because they just got word that the morning flight was cancelled. And since the highway is closed, they can’t divert and bus in as usual. We lean on the fact that our group is on the afternoon flight, and surely the highway will open by lunchtime anyway - we assume the closure had to do with clearing post-fire debris off the road or something. An anxious morning ensues as we refresh multiple websites - the highway updates, the weather radars, the flight trackers. The highway update is first - no change, it’s still closed. Next up is a call from the group, who are all at the airport ready to go - their flight is cancelled. The airline says they can maybe fly them in two days from now, depending on the weather.
A quick team meeting confirms what we already know deep down - there’s no option but to call it all off. The weather is not getting better. We can’t ask everyone to hang around in Vancouver waiting on a flight that may or may not happen, with the best case scenario missing two days of the trip and then, if the highway doesn’t open in time, having no place to sleep the last two nights. Plus, as this discussion is happening, we get word that another new fire has begun near the historic cannery that we were planning to visit as part of our newly revised itinerary! We rip the bandaid on a group call, then spend the rest of the day making the rounds in town, cancelling everything we had booked, settling up as best we can and issuing refunds before settling into Fraser’s cabin with strong drinks and an even stronger sense of defeat.
The fire that cut off camp, as seen during our flight into Ape Lake
It was the right call, which has become more and more obvious in the subsequent days as flights continue to be cancelled and the highway continues to be closed or only partially open. Though the valley is getting lots of rain, the plateau remains dry with fires growing, air quality plummeting and a new evacuation alert issued at Anahim Lake. But it hurts nonetheless, and leaves a funny feeling in my stomach that takes me right back to the pandemic era. A sour concoction of frustration and disappointment topped with a sense of failure and a bittersweet dash of knowing that it would likely have been worse had we pushed through. There was no good option to be had, only smart decisions to be made.
The bright side has been seeing how each party has responded to it all: the first crew rolled right along with ever-evolving changes, worked as a team, laughed at the craziness of it all and ultimately had a blast - some reluctant campers amongst them even claim that Plan L (or whatever we ended up at) was an upgrade from Plan A as far as they were concerned! The second group, who only made it as far as the South Terminal in Vancouver, immediately banded together, found a house, rented cars, stockpiled groceries, researched trails and are now a couple days into Rogue BC: Plan Z. They’ve got 50 previous RE trips between them, and they certainly know a few tricks - they’ve even worked in a canoe-run-canoe day to replace the one we should have had at Turner! Everyone involved in producing the trips, from the guide team to the lodge owners to the cooks, was working through a significant amount of stress, frustration and rapidly-changing situations but continually made clear-headed decisions, kept a sense of humor and pretty seamlessly shifted focus to #RunBC2024 - onward we go.
Group 2, taking “Rogue OYO” to a whole new level with Run BC: Plan Z
All to say, it’s a fresh reminder that the Rogue spirit extends and endures well beyond any planned itinerary, and that memories are being made and stories being written not in spite of, but because of it all. And isn’t that what real adventure is?
