Cover photo courtesy of James P. Johnson
By James P. Johnson
I noticed Fernie on a map while road-tripping through southeastern British Columbia more than a decade ago. I decided to head that way and become more Fernie-aware.
About a half-dozen visits later, my Fernie-awareness has really increased. Hiking is my favorite activity. Whatever yours, chances are good you’ll find matches on the long list of things to do there.
An impressive attribute Fernie has got going is prettiness. The Rocky Mountain peaks surrounding town cause me to pause often to gaze. The same happens downtown among the century-old brick buildings. The rampant beauty causes my pre-hike, coffeeshop stop to turn into extended lingering. A stroll through downtown ensues. When I arrive at the trailhead, a late finish to my hike is likely.
Another attribute that earns Fernie gold stars are hikes starting in town or at the outskirts. For an ardent peripatetic as myself, leaving the car parked and walking to the trailhead is satisfying.
An October summit of Mt. Fernie, (7,251 ft./5 miles roundtrip), on the north side of town was my first hike here. A snow shower hit as I reached the upper slopes. Staying low against wind and blinding snow on the summit’s narrow ridge, I had no idea how long my plunge would be if I went over the edge. I hiked Mt. Fernie again on my next visit. The drop-off was a moderately steep slope. I was never in danger of falling.
Finding more adventure than expected became a theme on my Fernie hikes. At Island Lake, a resort with mountainous terrain open to hikers, I was attracted off trail to a rocky summit requiring steep scrambling. Nearing the top, it began to rain. Slick rock would mean big trouble. Abandoning my quest, I descended methodically and cautiously. I’ve never been so relieved getting off a rock face.
My visits to Fernie are more than hiking up mountains. On a warm July day, I strolled through town with no purpose but to look at things. At a bike shop, a couple and their two elementary-age children looked excited as they took possession of rental bicycles. It brought a smile to me.
I walked the paved trail that follows the Elk River from one end of town to the other. There are lots of trails through and around Fernie, both gentle and the rugged, mountainous kind, and lots of people on bicycles using them. No one was fishing the Elk River for which it’s known; however, an intermittent procession of people on tubes and rafts floated past.
My walk ended at the the visitors’ centre, also the trailhead for 7,851-ft. Mt. Proctor, a 12-mile, loop hike with 4,600 feet of elevation gain. The centre guide questioned my late start. Acknowledging such, I resisted boasting that I’ve earned kudos for dealing with late starts.
Even with map in hand, the network of trails caused a wrong turn. I backtracked, then took a longer than necessary route to access the Mt. Proctor Trail. Eventually I got into spectacular high country, and, hiking a long, rocky ridge, arrived at the summit. Two things captured my attention—the setting with many rugged peaks, and a picnic table just below the summit.
On my hike down, recent heavy rain had washed out a long section of trail. If it reappeared on the periphery, cutting away from the wash out, and I missed it, I’d be stranded in the woods for the night. I was pleased to spot it and arrive at the visitors’ centre at dusk.
Evenings in Fernie, I visit places I’ve strolled past earlier. I once felt truly Canadian ordering local beer at a pub and getting drawn into a curling competition on the TVs. After conversation with a couple from Medicine Hat at a Japanese restaurant, the server informed me the departed couple paid my check. A free meal is great. The downside—not being able to express appreciation.
The first time I hiked Three Sisters (9,147 ft.), I ho-hummed the descriptions’s suggestion to check out the cave. Forty-five minutes into the hike, I was flabbergasted. Bisaro Cave is huge and spectacular.
Three Sisters is a 13-mile roundtrip hike with 4,750 ft. of elevation gain. The access road is rough and a high-clearance vehicle is necessary for the last two kilometers. I parked at the lot for low-clearance cars, adding three miles to the total. Hiking it again last summer, I encountered newly-made camping spots for backpackers near the tree line and plenty of people using them.
Like other hikes, the Three Sisters came with bonus adventure. Passing through a stand of stunted trees at high elevation, a grouse stayed put despite my presence, something I’ve experienced numerous times. I snapped photos as he paced circuitously, getting closer. Then he rushed me. I jumped and hopped, trying to outmaneuver him. It turned into a scuffle. Twice I landed a solid kick. Creating a gap between us, I outran him, even as he continued chasing.
Despite all my visits to Fernie, there are summits and lowlands I’ve yet to explore. The beauty of the mountainous terrain and the pleasantness and offerings of the downtown business district makes for a satisfying road trip each time. It’s no mystery Fernie has become one of my preferred destinations. My adventures have created memorable moments. Defending myself from a hiker-hating spruce grouse is perhaps the most unique.
James P. Johnson is the author of “Spokane and Coeur d’Alene Freshwater Shark Attacks.” He wrote about his streak of witnessing total solar eclipses in the last issue of Out There.
