We set out early on Saturday morning for Bella Coola. It is tricky packing for a trip on which you will probably climb a couple mountains, work in the garden, teach school, and possibly be interviewed. The expression goes that some people wear many hats, but I’ve always found that a good hat is multipurpose. Shoes on the other hand are highly job-specific, and so upon picking up Megan in Langley and looking at the pile of shoes in the trunk of my car I could only hope that we had sufficiently prepared for our trip.
We took the driving in shifts. I got us as far as Spences Bridge where we pulled over to take a picture in front of the Baits Motel sign. It was worth the stop, though the spelling rather took away the spookiness of it. On we went till we came upon a veritable oasis… a sight so good that the first time I saw it’s glowing open sign at 8:00 on the Cariboo highway I believed I was experiencing a mirage. Right there in the middle of the Cariboo highway is a place that sells proper Quebecois poutine and beaver tails. Is this an important detail regarding our development as teachers? Perhaps not. But, this roadside haven of beautiful log woodworking and perfectly constructed eats strikes me as such a miracle that I cannot help but share the fact of its existence with you. If nothing else, as a halfway marker on the road to Bella Coola, this grubbery is a good omen.
We made it down The Hill without any trouble. The hill down into Bella Coola must be experienced to be appreciated. When you look at the Chilcotin-Bella Coola Highway on a map you may think that it is simply 450 kilometers of … well… highway. Paved, straightish highway. You would be wrong. While the -40C winters are unkind to the highway across the plateau, leaving lumps and dips from the frost heave, the truly treacherous part of the trip is that hill, Heckman’s Pass. Representing only about 40km of the trip, this hill is famous for its terror-inspiring steepness, switchbacks, and lack of guard rails. There are sections of Heckman’s pass where it is impossible for two cars to pass one another. Wikipedia claims that some tourists refuse to drive back out of the valley once experiencing The Hill on the way in. Whether or not the visitors of the valley are as delicate as this claim suggests, The Hill is truly a testament to the historic hardiness of the locals of the Bella Coola valley. Started in 1952 with next to no money and a single tractor, the road was built by locals in spite of government nay sayers. Cliff Kopas, a new school teacher to the region had started the Board of Trade, which was initially funding the project. Eventually a grant was provided, and the locals, at great personal time and financial cost, built themselves a road out of the valley. That road is now maintained as an important connector to the last piece of Highway 20 and is a reminder to those entering the valley that community, hard work, and being willing to wear many shoes can accomplish the impossible.
We arrived at the Yellow House to find friendly faces, bottle feeding lambs, my dog, and a wood-stove full of baking pizza. Unsure of what shoes we’d be wearing in the days to come, this was a comforting and warm welcome. The Yellow House Hostel operates as a kind of community hub where researchers, farm interns, and single newcomers stay when they arrive in the valley.
**History for this post sourced at the Bella Coola Museum website here.**