Bella Coola: Down The Hill and Beyond

Joe Meche is president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and also serves the chapter as newsletter editor and birding programs coordinator. He has been watching birds for over 50 years and photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 years.

Part 2

When last we glimpsed our intrepid travelers, they were on the brink of the same abyss that greeted Alexander Mackenzie as he searched for a northwest passage in 1793. The adventure continues as the travelers descend 5,000 feet to the valley floor.

Until the day we left Bellingham on the way to Bella Coola, I read everything I possibly could about the area. Since it was mid-September, there would be no problem with campsites and the proximity to the communities of Bella Coola and Hagensborg ensured that we’d be able to supply our every need. Our primary focus on the trip, along with personal rejuvenation, was the potential for spending time in an isolated area that supported a variety of wildlife.

Along with the specifics about the area today, I delved into its history and learned about the Nuxalk People, the First Nation tribe that populated the valley for generations before the first white men arrived. Captain George Vancouver made first contact with the Nuxalk on his coastal expedition, just three weeks before Alexander Mackenzie completed the first overland crossing of the North American continent. Mackenzie’s crossing preceded that of Lewis and Clark by 12 years.

In 1867, the Hudson’s Bay Company established a trading post in Bella Coola and, 26 years later, 220 Norwegian colonists were granted homesteads in the valley. Many of these colonists became commercial loggers, fishermen and farmers and combined with the Nuxalk to expand their markets well beyond traditional trails to new markets, bringing a variety of trades to the valley. The community of Hagensborg reflects the Norwegian heritage, and the handsome Augsburg Church stands as a reminder of that legacy.

I consumed reading material about the overwhelming abundance of hiking and biking trails throughout the valley and up into the adjacent Tweedsmuir Provincial Park. The natural beauty of this part of British Columbia and the range of activities are phenomenal, to say the least. With all the reading I did, I felt that I had been there before we arrived. In retrospect, however, it seems that everything I read included an item or two concerning the Hill.

Every piece of printed material or Web site link at least mentioned and some even cautioned travelers about the Hill. It seems that a universal warning/disclaimer is provided to negate any ill effects or vehicular difficulties incurred during the experience. The only way to drive into the Bella Coola Valley is to negotiate a “very steep and primitive mountain road that lacks guardrails and has grades which occasionally reach 18 percent.” It’s known as a road that’s “not for the squeamish or faint of heart.” A local rhyme says, “First I made my will … then I drove the Hill.” There’s nothing like a bit of folklore to add spice to any journey.

For our firsthand look at the legendary road, we arrived at Heckman Pass after a breakfast stop in Anahim Lake. From the pass itself, the road began to drop perceptibly but it was a matter of a couple of miles before we began the serious part of the descent to the valley below. Okay, it’s a steep and somewhat primitive mountain road. There are no guardrails and the occasional steep pitch, avalanche areas, and hairpin turns are exciting enough; but unless you have problems with a yawning abyss right outside the window, it’s a relative piece of cake and the views are spectacular. It’s just important to pay attention, especially if you’re the driver!

The history of this road is as impressive as the scenery and the lore, given that it was not built as part of any government-funded highway project. On the contrary, this road was built by local labor and volunteers when the British Columbia government deemed it too costly to pursue. The story goes that with “two Caterpillars and lots of dynamite,” the Freedom Road pushed up and over the mountains to Anahim Lake in 1953. From that time the road opened the valley to the rest of the province and became British Columbia’s “Third Outlet to the Pacific.”

A smooth descent took us into the valley and far away from the reminders of the pine beetle devastation we witnessed on the Central Plateau. From the last pitch at the bottom of the Hill we cruised to mouth of the Bella Coola River and saltwater. As we drove through the valley, we agreed that we had found an isolated haven that was reminiscent of many valleys on the western slope of the Cascades — lush and green, and surrounded by spectacular peaks.

After a quick scouting trip to the end of the road, we turned around to find a home for the rest of the week. We had the luxury of time to check out available campgrounds and settled in to a wonderful site on the banks of the swift and noisy, glacier-fed Bella Coola River. The river was running high according to the locals we met, but the weather was perfect, and we couldn’t have wished for a better base camp.

The game plan was to explore this wonderful valley and enjoy our newfound isolation from the rest of the world. Ruby-crowned kinglets and chestnut-backed chickadees cued us to their presence as soon as we began to unload the van. Bald eagles and belted kingfishers voiced their respective greetings.

Our plan for the week was to have no plan. We had things that we wanted to do but the main point of the trip was to relax and look for grizzlies. The valley is known as the Grizzly Bear Capital of British Columbia, so we felt that the odds were in our favor to see a few. The area is also home to wolves and cougars, and conversations with residents confirmed that all three were common backyard visitors. The residents are respectful of the animals that share the valley with them. Everyone has dogs because they appear to be the best early-warning devices available for bears and other critters.

No matter how we spent our days, we always positioned ourselves at dusk in areas that were known to be frequented by bears (there are actually signs posted to that effect). We played scrabble and sipped wine one evening next to Saloompt Creek, which was filled with spawning salmon. We fully expected to see a grizzly come down to feed. After all, we were right next to one of those signs! No bears, but we enjoyed the evening and the wine was tasty.

We spent evenings at other creeks and one hotspot right next the airport. We didn’t see our first bear until we saw one go by inside a trap on the back of a Canadian Wildlife Service trailer. We heard that the bear had been trapped right across the river from our campsite. We also heard that two bears were chased off by dogs, across the road from our campsite. It seems we were surrounded by bears!

Toward the end of our week, we decided to increase our area of coverage and drift the Atnarko River with a local guide. We met the guide and left in the early hours and saw the first grizzly while we were enroute to the put-in point. It was a beautiful morning sight and the guide commented that it was one of the largest bears he had ever seen in the valley. The bear’s muscles and shiny coat fairly rippled as he crossed the road. Coincidentally, the bear ran right into the front yard of the author of three books about grizzly bears. Kismet, perhaps?

We arrived a bit later at the salmon spawning pools on the Atnarko River and loaded the Mackenzie boat for our three-hour drift downstream. The morning sun illuminated the glacier-clad high peaks while the valley remained in their deep shadow. Along the way, we encountered two grizzlies and two very large black bears, as well as numerous signs of bear activity on the sandy banks. The consensus around the valley was that the salmon were a little late and the bears would be more numerous when the salmon arrived. Isn’t that the way it always is?

Our best grizzly encounter had to wait until our last day in the valley. We decided to leave early to avoid the traffic on the Hill, but agreed to spend a half hour at the spawning pools for one last look. We parked the van and walked down to the river and almost instantly, a large grizzly appeared upstream. He was meandering along our side of the river, so we watched and waited. I, of course, just had to get a little closer so I headed toward the bear.

As I made my way upstream, I could hear the bear splashing in the shallows but couldn’t see him because of an alder thicket that separated us. When I came around the thicket, there he was! He had a large salmon in his paws and was in mid-bite when he heard me. He lowered the salmon and we were no more than 50 feet apart when our eyes met. Bear and human were locked in as human slowly began to back up the trail. Luckily, I was seen as no threat to the bear and we parted company amicably. We had good views as the big male crossed to the other side of the river and eventually disappeared downstream. It was our last morning in this magical place and an appropriate exit from the valley.

The Hill posed no great impediment to our progress on the way out. Bella Coola can also be reached by air from Vancouver or by ferry from Port Hardy on Vancouver Island. The cost for either option is somewhat prohibitive and nowhere near as exciting as negotiating the Hill.

Any visit to a new place always expands your horizons. If you’re up for a good road trip, the Bella Coola Valley beckons. We plan to return in the spring when numerous breeding birds will provide a totally different perspective, compared to the dearth of birds we experienced in the fall. Of course, the crisp and cool fall days are often as good as it gets. The spectacular weather we experienced during the entire trip continued until the day we returned to Bellingham and rain! We knew we were home! §