Driving up the west side of beautiful Harrison Lake in Southwestern, BC has the potential to present some challenges to drivers regardless of the type of vehicle being used. Don’t get me wrong, by no means is this a next to impossible drive, but the narrow, winding, super rough road, with a few wash-outs is a concern for many and would even be a deterrent for some.
Naturally, I chose to drive it for the first time, alone, at night, in the rain. But it was April 2016 and I was in Chilliwack, BC to get a few new accessories fitted to my rig. The morning before starting my tour up the west side of Harrison, I was in a small fab shop having a new rear swing-out, front bumper, lights and a winch installed on my truck. It was an all-day job and I would find myself faced with a tough decision: find a campsite close to Chilliwack and depart up the lakeside forest service road (FSR) the following morning. Or, hit the gas bar and grocery store that evening and get rolling right away. Tough decision… Yeah right! There was no way I could contain my excitement about the new goodies on my truck and wait an entire night. In fact I’m pretty sure I didn’t even get this excited on Christmas Eve as a 5 year old kid. Well, maybe the excitement was the same, but as an adult, waiting is an option. I rolled out of the shop, filled up on fuel and groceries and started up the trail.
Shortly after turning onto the Sts’Ailles FSR, the sun sank and the rain started to fall. Sts’Ailles , pronounced, Che-ha-lis translates to ‘beating heart’ and is the name of the First Nations Band who have called the area home for the last 1500 years.
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Prior to leaving home for this trip I did a bit of reading about the Sts’Ailles FSR and every account seemed to recall the same conditions: rough, narrow, rough, winding, rough, washouts, and rough road conditions. There seemed to be a running theme and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to proceed very quickly, but that didn’t really bother me. I’m not a speed demon, I just really enjoy driving, especially with a cup of coffee and the tunes cranked. The fact that it was dark, unknown and raining buckets just added to the excitement. My rig was a new beast: increased approach and departure angles from the new bumpers, wicked bright off-road lights and a winch - just in-case. Moving forward, I was a happy kid.
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The bloggers were right; a rough and winding road was exactly what I had encountered. I could never really tell how close to the lakeshore I was as I vibrated my way over what seemed like every piece of gravel in British Columbia and it was probably for the best. I simply concentrated on what my “sasquatch” lights illuminated in front of me and on I went… bump-idy bump, bump-idy bump.
It was a Monday night in early April and I didn’t expect to see any other trucks on the road, but to my surprise, just as I was descending a hill near Doctor’s Point in Harrison Lake, I saw the subtle glow of headlights. Sure enough, someone else was a rain-storm, midnight truck warrior too. As the Ford Ranger 4x4 with its way-too-big slide-in camper approached, I didn’t even think twice about stopping to talk. I figured if someone else was out there, at that time of night and in those conditions, a conversation was in order.
We switched off our high-beams and off-road lights and as we slowly approached each other I could tell he was thinking the same thing, as his window was already rolled down too. Now I’m not the most intuitive person in the world, nor did I have to be to completely understand how this chap was feeling.
Any attempt to hide is stress and fear with his grumbly voice was betrayed by the dim orange glow of his cabin light, allowing me to see his true feelings in his eyes. He asked me what the road ahead was like and I assured him and his girlfriend that the conditions got much better. Which made me wonder: what the heck was I about to drive into?
“Oh man, its treacherous back there! You gotta use 4-low!” The Ranger driver grumbled.
They went on to tell me that the road was rough, the hills were steep and again, I needed to use 4-Low. We chatted for a bit and I learned they were coming from Sloquet Hot Springs and I told them that was my destination for the night. After a “good luck!” and a high-five, we were on our separate ways.
Any attempt to hide is stress and fear with his grumbly voice was betrayed by the dim orange glow of his cabin light, allowing me to see his true feelings in his eyes. He asked me what the road ahead was like and I assured him and his girlfriend that the conditions got much better. Which made me wonder: what the heck was I about to drive into?
“Oh man, its treacherous back there! You gotta use 4-low!” The Ranger driver grumbled.
They went on to tell me that the road was rough, the hills were steep and again, I needed to use 4-Low. We chatted for a bit and I learned they were coming from Sloquet Hot Springs and I told them that was my destination for the night. After a “good luck!” and a high-five, we were on our separate ways.
I think the combination of my new gear and seeing his tiny truck with such a massive camper settled my nerves, allowing me to slowly proceed with confidence. I remembered reading that there was a wash-out somewhere in the Doctor’s Point area and the detour was ridiculously rough and challenging. Maybe it was the detour that stressed out the Ranger driver. As I advanced, the road was indeed rough and steep. The powerful spring rain, darkness and bumps kept me at full alert as I pushed on towards the Sloquet-North FSR. As for the detour, it never really did reveal itself to me. At some point, I must have made my way around it, but I believe because the road was consistently winding, rough and slow-going, it made it difficult for me to discern the side-road from the main road. Throw in my amateur eyes, a midnight black sky and water balloon sized rain drops, and I never even knew I was on the detour at all.
At the bottom of a descent near the lakeside, I saw the glow of the First Nations community of Tipella, part of the Douglas First Nations, and I knew I was getting close to the hot springs and my super comfy bed which lies under the cap of my rig. I rolled into the Sloquet Hot Springs at 1:30 am, realizing I had been driving on gravel for 7 hours. Considering I drive a vehicle for a living, it didn’t really seem all that long, but I had only travelled 136 kilometres. I was ready for bed.
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Waking up next to undeveloped hot springs you do not need much more than the thought of an immediate soak to launch you out of bed. A rapid breakfast was in-order to get to the pools, which are only a few hundred metres down a steep slope from the campsite.
This place is special. Aside from a sign asking users to follow a few simple rules, a wooden partition to change behind and a platform reminiscent of lakeside dock, the Sloquet Hot Springs are undeveloped. The segmented pools of varying temperatures are created by piled rocks. There are no plastic liners, no ceramic tiles, nothing to resemble some of the developed hot springs scattered throughout Western Canada.
As you descend a hill, the calming hush of Sloquet Creek welcomes you, and just as soon as your ears allow you to catch on to the proximity of the pools, you see the mist rising in the distance. On a chilly April morning, warm steam lifting from the spring puts more pep in your step than a hot cup of coffee.
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At its source, the steady stream of spring water pumping out from a rock wall above the creek is way too hot for bathing. This is where its proximity to the creek comes into play. People have created rock-walled pools which allow varying amounts of creek water to enter, regulating the piping-hot spring water. The further the pool is from the source, the cooler the temperature is.
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With the exception of the wooden structures and the reorganized river stones, these pools are completely natural. The only other evidence of past visitors was a hanging candle holder and remnants of candle wax melted on to the rocks, evidence of midnight bathers.
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Being April in the Coast Range, I expected wet and dreary, and to a certain extent, that's what I got: scattered showers, cool temps and low lying clouds which would break up just enough to let a golden ray of sunshine pierce through every now and then. But, to be completely honest, using the word dreary gets halted at the weather. Even on the gloomiest of gloomy days this place is special. The vibrancy of the greenery is electric. Sitting in the pools warms your mind, body and soul with the efficiency of a thousand suns. This place is special.
I encountered very few people while there. When I walked down to the pools there wasn't a car in the day-use parking lot. The couple who came hiking in with backpacks turned out to be from the steamy-windowed Nissan Pathfinder I drove past on the Sloquet FSR just a few kilometers from the camping area. For a while I had the place to myself.
After a lunch back at camp, it seemed pretty natural for my afternoon activity to be soaking in the pools again. As I headed down I noticed a lone SUV sitting in the day-use parking lot. My afternoon dip had me starting in the second hottest pool which left me alone, away from the two ladies who must have driven the SUV. As the heat took its toll on me, I regressed to the cooler pools and finally into the same pools as the day trippers. We struck up a conversation and I learned they were ski town transplants much like myself. They lived in a near-by ski town and made the three-hour drive to enjoy a day of soaking and relaxing. I remember asking them if the SUV I passed in the day lot was theirs. It was just another mundane question to add to the banter shared amongst relative strangers, and not even half an hour later I would regret asking that question.
I had retreated back to my campsite for a break from the pools. But since there isn't much to do at Sloquet except relax in the pools, it was only a short break. Once again I walked from my campsite, passed the day-use parking lot and down to the pools. As I passed the ladies’ SUV I noticed it had a flat tire. “Oh crap!” I said out loud. Not because I felt bad they had a flat, but because all I could think about was: what they are they going to think when the lone male traveller, at the relatively deserted hot springs comes up to the two beautiful women in bikinis and says, ‘Hey ladies, do you know you have a flat?’ Especially right after I had asked if that car was theirs! I kind of laughed to myself as I thought this situation could either be the beginning of a backwoods thriller movie, or really bad porn. All I needed was a speedo, a moustache and the scene would be set…
“ACTION!” the director would call out.
“Hey ladies, you know you got a flat?” I would slyly ask, looking through my yellow lensed aviators as I flipped a toothpick in my mouth.
Oh jeeze louise! All kidding aside, I was actually nervous about telling them.
I wadded into the pools and said hello again.
“You know you have a flat eh?”
Bugged eyed, one of the ladies looked at me and said, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but I can help you change your tire if you like?”
“Well, we don’t have a spare”
“Sure you do, it’s on the back of your rear door”
“No, it’s flat”
“Oh, Okay.” I said. “Well, depending on what punctured the tire, I might be able to fix it for you. I have a repair kit and a compressor in my truck.”
“ACTION!” the director would call out.
“Hey ladies, you know you got a flat?” I would slyly ask, looking through my yellow lensed aviators as I flipped a toothpick in my mouth.
Oh jeeze louise! All kidding aside, I was actually nervous about telling them.
I wadded into the pools and said hello again.
“You know you have a flat eh?”
Bugged eyed, one of the ladies looked at me and said, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but I can help you change your tire if you like?”
“Well, we don’t have a spare”
“Sure you do, it’s on the back of your rear door”
“No, it’s flat”
“Oh, Okay.” I said. “Well, depending on what punctured the tire, I might be able to fix it for you. I have a repair kit and a compressor in my truck.”
We all exited the pools walked up to the SUV together. The truck owner, Miss A went on to tell me that it was given to her for free. The former owner was leaving the country and had given it away for whatever reason. I admitted to the ladies that I had been quite nervous about telling them about the tire, wondering what they would have thought of me. But as we talked and got to know each other, that feeling was quickly extinguished and we all become friends, their puppy too. Miss A had a beautiful husky mix, (I think) and she was awesome. Every now and then I still find some traces of puppy fur in my truck and smile as I remember this experience.
After a quick inspection of the tire, it had become obvious that my repair kit, or any repair kit for that matter couldn’t help it. A sharp rock had found its way through the tread and the tire had made its last revolutions, well, almost last.
After a quick inspection of the tire, it had become obvious that my repair kit, or any repair kit for that matter couldn’t help it. A sharp rock had found its way through the tread and the tire had made its last revolutions, well, almost last.
The afternoon was fading away and we all figured the best thing to do was to relax over a meal and make a plan. The truck was driven back to my camp and we all chatted over dinner. We decided that the following day we would gather the tire, rim and lug-nut specifications. I would then drive the ladies and puppy back home where they could get replacement parts and catch a ride back to Sloquet to get their SUV road worthy again. That night we soaked in the pools, ate food, talked around the campfire and just enjoyed each other’s company. They were grateful I was there to help them out and I was equally grateful to have made some new friends and have some company. As much as I love being a Lone Wolf, spending time with other like-minded people is always welcomed.
The following morning we packed up and headed out. Just as we were leaving, one of the ladies, Miss B, remembered seeing a sign near the entrance that made some mention of tires. Sure enough, just by the entrance to the camping area, nailed to a tree was a sign saying…
‘Chuck’s Tires. Repairs & Sales. Lot #7 Tipella @ at the 78 km’
Clearly, that’s where we headed. Driving toward Tipella we saw another one of Chuck’s signs and once in the tiny community, we only had to ask one person where Chuck lived.
Upon arriving we were first greeted by Chuck’s dog and eventually we found Chuck. Miss A told him about the situation and he offered to load his truck with tools and gear and drive back to her SUV.
Chuck is a super star. Yes, for being so knowledgeable about tires and wheels and what not, but he is really just a super star human being. He was quickly able to discern that the spare wasn’t holding air because the rim it was sitting on was bent. His plan was to take the spare tire and rim, and the punctured tire and rim back to his shop, put the spare rubber on the good rim, fill it up, return to the truck, put it back on, and be on his way. And that is exactly what Chuck did.
He made no mention of being out in the wilderness without a spare or tools, he offered no advice or life lessons, he just did what needed to be done. And when he put me to work, cranking on the last few lug nuts, so he could chat with the ladies and enjoy a smoke and beverage, I didn’t blame him for a second. One might think that a service like this in such a remote location would cost a few hundred dollars. And my guess is that anyone requiring his services would be glad to pay it. But the cost for all his work... the driving back and forth, the work at his shop and the work at the truck cost very little. Indicative that Chuck gives a damn - about people, about life and about keeping it simple.
I try not to regret things in life, but I will admit, I regret not taking a photo of Chuck’s super simple, blue and white sign nailed to a tree in the middle of nowhere.
‘Chuck’s Tires. Repairs & Sales. Lot #7 Tipella @ at the 78 km’
Clearly, that’s where we headed. Driving toward Tipella we saw another one of Chuck’s signs and once in the tiny community, we only had to ask one person where Chuck lived.
Upon arriving we were first greeted by Chuck’s dog and eventually we found Chuck. Miss A told him about the situation and he offered to load his truck with tools and gear and drive back to her SUV.
Chuck is a super star. Yes, for being so knowledgeable about tires and wheels and what not, but he is really just a super star human being. He was quickly able to discern that the spare wasn’t holding air because the rim it was sitting on was bent. His plan was to take the spare tire and rim, and the punctured tire and rim back to his shop, put the spare rubber on the good rim, fill it up, return to the truck, put it back on, and be on his way. And that is exactly what Chuck did.
He made no mention of being out in the wilderness without a spare or tools, he offered no advice or life lessons, he just did what needed to be done. And when he put me to work, cranking on the last few lug nuts, so he could chat with the ladies and enjoy a smoke and beverage, I didn’t blame him for a second. One might think that a service like this in such a remote location would cost a few hundred dollars. And my guess is that anyone requiring his services would be glad to pay it. But the cost for all his work... the driving back and forth, the work at his shop and the work at the truck cost very little. Indicative that Chuck gives a damn - about people, about life and about keeping it simple.
I try not to regret things in life, but I will admit, I regret not taking a photo of Chuck’s super simple, blue and white sign nailed to a tree in the middle of nowhere.
A few days later I would find myself having dinner with the ladies. They treated me as a thank-you for helping them out. It’s funny how Overlanding keeps teaching me the same life lessons: ‘It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.’ And moreover, above all the fun and excitement, above the cool truck and gear, the most important part of adventuring, is the people.
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