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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
To support Canadian tourism, I spent my summer holiday exploring a remote part of my own province. My travelling companion was my daughter-in-law, Kara. Day one involved reaching Port Hardy on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. The next day, we navigated a lengthy logging road to a secluded wilderness beach. Along that route, we encountered a message that became the theme of our week-long adventure. An immense log lying atop a crushed car displayed a sign: “Be Prepared for the Unexpected.”
From then on, everything that happened was unexpected. Back in cellphone range in Port Hardy, we discovered a memo from B.C. Ferries. Due to anticipated strong winds, our boat would leave at 5 a.m. instead of the scheduled 7:30. We had to be at the terminal by 3 a.m. At the motel I slept in my clothes, so when Kara’s alarm went off, all I did was stumble to the car.
As we entered the ferry’s car deck, we were told: “If you have any Gravol, take it now. It’s going to be rough.”
Kara parked in the allotted spot, then looked at me in groggy shock. I shrugged. “I don’t have any Gravol. I’ve never taken Gravol in my life.”
So began the 10-hour journey to the village of Bella Coola. We weathered the choppy seas by napping in sleeping bags stretched across several seats in the passenger lounge until we reached the protected channel leading to our destination.
Why Bella Coola? For years, I have yearned to view the rock where explorer and fur trader Alexander Mackenzie ended his epic cross-continent journey in 1793. He never reached the open Pacific, but he tasted saltwater and saw the tides change. It was close enough and his Indigenous guides pressed him to return to familiar territory where they would be safe from enemy tribes.
I had already booked a small boat to shuttle us 65 kilometres down the Dean Channel to the B.C. Historical Site, where a monument commemorates Mackenzie’s achievement. Lying in my sleeping bag, I dreamt of tomorrow when my goal would finally be accomplished.
I should have known better. Because the rough seas lasted for two days, our tour boat couldn’t run us down the fjord into the Dean Channel.
Instead, our guides suggested visiting the site of an ancient cedar tree. While Captain Jason stayed aboard, his deckhand Henry led us through the dense forest ground cover. He located the path only because someone had dangled blue ribbons from overhanging trees. We finally reached an old cedar that soared into the sky. Henry drummed traditional Nuxalk songs of gratitude for the many ways cedar trees support their culture.
Although we never saw the memorial rock, we encountered many traces of Mackenzie in Bella Coola. Our hotel was on Mackenzie Street. We drove past Sir Alexander Mackenzie Secondary School. In the log cabin museum, we found the brass plaque that commemorated Mackenzie’s trip until it was replaced by a bilingual one attached to the rock I didn’t get to see.
The road continued past Bella Coola for 44 km until the valley came to an abrupt end. Here we discovered a craft store selling hand-blended spices with the brand name Stupendous. That word cropped up all over the place, including Mount Stupendous. Mackenzie had originally used it in his journal and the name stuck: “Before us appeared a stupendous mountain, whose snow-clad summit was lost in the clouds.” We started using “stupendous” to describe our discoveries, too.
While aboard the ferry, we heard about “the Hill,” a series of precipices and steep slopes that Mackenzie described in his journal after his guides escorted him 3,000 feet to the valley below. That route remained only a footpath until the 1950s, when local residents blasted a road up the cliff. Now “the Hill” is part of the provincial highway from Bella Coola to Williams Lake. It is also on the list of the scariest roads in the world.
Kara was determined to drive the narrow, twisting gravel road with sheer drops into the abyss. I clenched my teeth and endured hairpin turns and 15 per cent grades until Kara realized I was going to die of asphyxiation if I held my breath any longer.
Long before she reached the top, she found a place to turn around inch by inch. While we crawled downhill, a local truck zoomed past us. Luckily, he was on the cliff side. When Kara reached the valley floor, I finally found breath to speak. “Well, that was a stupendous ride!”
Boarding the ferry early the next morning, I encountered the chief steward, who asked if I had seen Mackenzie’s Rock. When I shook my head, she suggested, “Come back next year and take the milk run to Bella Bella and Ocean Falls. That ferry goes up the Dean Channel, and if anyone asks, the captain will divert the ferry close to Mackenzie’s Rock.”
I didn’t accomplish my intended mission, but I enjoyed a week of unexpected pleasures. I even have next summer’s holiday planned. No doubt, it will not unfold as expected and that will be stupendous.
Anne Dalziel Patton lives in Victoria.
