Road Trippin’ – Bella Coola Valley

By Ian Cobb and Carrie Schafer

A wedding invitation lured us to the beautiful Bella Coola Valley on B.C.’s Central Coast this past August.

Ever since visiting Williams Lake around the turn of the century and learning about the drive to Bella Coola and “the Big Hill,” this trip lingered near the top of my bucket list.

As we had a year to plan the trip, we ended up booking the ferry to Port Hardy to continue our coastal adventure on northern Vancouver Island.

I note this because Carrie is not fond of watercraft. It’s a small feat getting her to take the Kootenay Lake ferry. I never dreamed she’d be into the 10-hour ferry cruise to Port Hardy but thanks to time, she warmed to the idea and we marked the date when we could first book passage ($750).

First things first; we had to get to Bella Coola and thanks to dire warnings from the lovely couple whose wedding we were attending, ‘the Big Hill’ became this objective needing to be conquered – a challenge for the future.

I admit to small anxiety prior to departing as I had a couple of other lives to consider before attempting ‘the Big Hill.’

We made sure our vehicle was in tip-top shape, including brakes, and set out for Williams Lake, from which we headed west on Highway 20 (Chilcotin/Bella Coola Highway).

It is about 450 km to Bella Coola through rolling plains, valleys and hills to the steep mountainous terrain of coast, which is about 320 km into the trip.

Things get interesting at Anahim Lake on the Chilcotin Plateau where the road changes from secondary paved surface to gravel from there to Atnarko, at the bottom of – sound the ominous music – the Big Hill.

I anticipated this hill as some form of monstrous freak – a thing that should not be. All accounts I have heard from people who have driven it contained lavish dollops of drama.

As you arrive at the summit of Heckman Pass you begin the descent to Bella Coola Valley.

It is a 4,020-foot descent over 20 kilometres that the B.C. government did not wish to mess with so valley locals, who had no road access/egress to the interior, decided to take matters into their own bulldozer driving hands.

“The Freedom Road,” as valley locals coined it, or “the Precipice,” was completed on Sept. 26, 1953 when two bulldozers, one working from the top and another from below, met up.

The project was completed on credit and the good fiscal graces of some locals and was officially opened in July 1955.

The big wow factor of the road is its grade, with some insisting there is much as a 23% grade.

The steepest grade sign we passed was warning about 18%, with a nine km section featuring grades up to that range.

To give you another idea about the respect and caution I had heading downhill, I had read about tourists who have driven down to Bella Coola and then refuse to drive back up, having to fly out or take the ferry.

Shortly out of Heckman Pass we hit the first descent, a section of road that only the week before had been closed due to a wildfire in adjacent Tweedsmuir Provincial Park.

The fire ravaged the forest on both sides of the road and the smell of freshly burned forest lingered strong.

So down we went, ever so cautiously. There are several major hairpin turns and long, steep switchbacks as well as some eye-popping views.

Down we continued, stopping here and there to take photographs. After a couple of kilometres I thought, “this isn’t so bad. I wonder when it gets good?”

I was enjoying the drive immensely, kind of like a carnival ride where one expects the ride to take off into crazy land.

We passed numerous grade signs and I responded accordingly, going slow in low. Just like driving logging roads in the Rockies, take it easy on the hills and the odds of you careering over the side of the road to a fiery death are greatly diminished.

And down we went. I admit to squealing a few ‘weees’ as we continued downward, anticipating wilder descents and steep hills and ahead I saw two vehicles stopped by what looked like a bridge.

Maybe they’re pausing before tackling a monster, I pondered.

Nope. The Big Hill was over. The bridge is at Atnarko where the road becomes nicely paved for the last 77 km to Bella Coola.

I harrumphed, “That’s it? That was easy!”

Guess it helps to live in the Rockies/Purcells when it comes to taking on big hills.

We stayed in a cabin at the Bella Valley Campground in Hagensborg, one of the two main service communities in the valley. It was a phenomenal stay.

The Bella Coola Valley is truly a paradise at the bottom of the Big Hill.

If you’re into oceanic exploration, whether in kayaks or canoes or large craft, with plenty available for charters, it is perhaps one of the finest places you can visit.

If you’re into seeing big bears – it’s has the thickest population in North America. That said, we didn’t see one bear in five days. However, as we strolled along the big cedar grove in Snootli Creek Regional Park we stepped over a day-old mound of grizzly poop.

Continuing along the trail for another 200 metres, I heard a loud snap – a branch being broken. We walked another few metres and my brain said, “you did hear that” and we stopped to listen. Not packing bear spray (dumb) or any form of self dense beside being a faster runner than Carrie (kidding), we made a fairly brisk retreat from the enthralling rain forest.

Another must-see highlight is Clayton Point Park and Clayton Creek Falls, a short bumpy ride past Bella Coola Harbour – both figuring heavily in our photo collection.

The valley has an amazing variety of hiking trails, from easy to gruelling, including some beauties in Tweedsmuir Provincial Park.

The Village of Bella Coola is a quiet and friendly place, with a museum (closed when we were there) worth stopping into and some friendly shops. There are several small cafes and restaurants scattered between Bella Coola and Hagensborg.

Because the Bella Coola Valley is so isolated, groceries and like supplies can be limited, so plan your visit accordingly in that regard.

The five days we spent in the valley, including attending the lovely wedding of two favourite people, were magical and a big part of that was the stellar weather.

The first four days was bluebird bonkers and the final day was overcast but still nice.

We had to be up at 5:30 a.m. the day we departed on the ferry – having to be in the ferry line two hours before departure.

It was thrashing down with rain when we left our cozy cabin in the inky black morning.

The reason for the long wait is because many vehicles must back onto the ferry (Northern Sea Wolf), something I have not seen before.

Being nearer the front of the line of the smaller vehicles, we were able to drive onto the ferry and then turned around inside the ship.

As we departed Bella Coola, barely visible through the morning fog and slashing rain, I headed to the stern to take some final photographs. I looked through my viewfinder and saw a dark gray smudge. Yes, the morning was a dark gray smudge but it should be brighter in the view finder. The image is representative, though, so I take another. Same thing. Several more shots and more darkness in the viewfinder.

Oftentimes when technical things occur on my expensive camera, as if it’s a Mac computer, I turn it on and off or take the battery out and re-insert it. If often helps. So I did that but nothing worked – darkness lingered in the view finder.

I shrugged because the photos were turning out and decided to take one last photo – leaning over the railing, dark frothing waters below. As I panned for my photo my left hand felt heavy – my $2,000 lens had fallen into it. Thanks to the weight of the camera and lens, it requires two hands to operate. Otherwise, I would have deposited my lens in North Bentick Arm.

I still get memory tremors from that, as I do from the 10-hour ride to Port Hardy through pea soup thick fog and rain, along with the ceaseless caterwauling of a 14-to-16-month old baby boy whose parents didn’t seem to mind his screaming, whereas the rest of the mostly holidaying and disappointed-with-the-weather Europeans aboard the ferry shut their eyes and clenched their jaws.

The highlight of the ferry ride, for me, was the eight-or-nine foot swells that reduced one to a staggering fool if one tried to walk. I went outside and spent a half hour ‘swell surfing,’ rolling to and fro with the ship as the bow slapped onto the ocean surface after topping a wave.

Thanks to a heads up from the deck crew, we did see a Humpback Whale off in the misty distance.

Had we been blessed with a half decent day, the ferry ride would surely have been endlessly scenic and fascinating.

It is about 1,340 km to Bella Coola from Cranbrook.

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