Author: Kristen Haynes

Two substantial gold rushes defined British Columbia in the mid-1800s. The more famous of the two, the Cariboo Gold Rush, graced some of the mountains and valleys in the photos below. It brought prospectors from around the globe, elevated the economy of every stop en route, and forever transformed a substantial area. Gold is still mined in the Cariboo Mountains, albeit with less fervour and more advanced mechanical techniques, and the now-diminished population reflects that. Whole towns have been ghosted.

But the draw of exploration remains. In the mist and drizzle of our first few days in the area, starting in the tiny town of Likely and making our way north to Wells and the iconic Barkerville, we both wanted to grab a pan and sift river bottoms. We wanted to kick rocks to see if anything sparkled from underneath. Not for the chance of riches but to transport us to the time when the Cariboo Gold Rush caused the whole area to ripple with frenzy.

Our days there indeed included a search – not for a precious metal but with our cameras angled for autumn and animals. The former we were surrounded by, with golden leaves that glistened in ubiquitous dew. With the latter, our prospect for grizzlies came up empty. But the rear of a bolting black bear, a moose on a meadow, bald-headed eagles, and several deer held our attention instead.

Our journey was not left wanting for riches.

Exploring the Cariboo Mountains

Likely, BC

While the official Gold Rush Trail begins hundreds of kilometres south of Likely, our journey began in this little town on the Quesnel River. It is one of the few gold rush settlements that remains. There’s only one store and a handful of houses, but it holds a draw for fishermen and adventurers alike for the surrounding nature. Our day trips from here included an expedition up the nearby Mitchell River and jaunts down many of the quiet roads in the area.

Making Our Way to Wells, BC

From Likely, we took the scenic route north and drove what is literally known as “the back road” to Wells. It is only a 150 km journey, but we made it last all day with an inestimable number of photo stops of the Cariboo Mountains and a lazy picnic lunch near waterfalls.

Visiting Wells, BC

On the edge of town, we were flagged down by a passerby. He gestured to the vast meadow that spread out from the road and opened with just one word: moose. There he was, a large bull just a couple hundred metres ahead. With a quick change of his camera lens, Pete was poised and began shooting. Within minutes, several others surrounded us as if they were gathered by some silent moose whistle that only townspeople could hear.

Their photography gear put ours to shame. For them, such a sighting was probably a regular occurrence, yet all were still determined to capture the scene. “It doesn’t get old,” one told us. Geoff, our guide, tested his moose calls to try and draw the bull closer. “It’s a special place.”

The population of this picturesque town may be a fraction of what it once was as a mining hub, but it is not lacking in allure. It has a tiny but strong community of artists and adventurers alike. Bright buildings sit on the edge of this vast meadow that teems with life. In the wintertime, it is a focal point for cross-country skiers and sledders. In the summer, it’s the starting point for the popular canoe circuit at Bowron Lake Provincial Park.

Barkerville, BC

Near to Wells is Barkerville, a world-class heritage site named after an English prospector who spearheaded growth in the region that eventually shaped the entire province.

In the summer it bustles as a living museum, with visitors weaving in and out of the over 100 structures that stand in the same spot as when they were built starting in the 1860s, and interacting with the actors in character from that period. Winter activities are planned but less involved. We visited just after the summer season had closed and had the town entirely to ourselves.

That doesn’t mean, however, that to visit means an absence of treasure.

We had to be mindful of our steps on a trail that was rough with roots and stones, while also focusing on the greenery that cropped up around it. Low bushes burst with blueberries, blackberries, crowberries, and cranberries that weren’t quite ready. We saw cloudberry plants but no berries and became obsessive in our search for them.

Which is exactly how we turned a small four-kilometer hike turned into a two-hour affair. When we weren’t watching our feet move, we were scouring for small treasures below and raising our eyes to the remarkable scenes above.

We arrived at Taylor Head Provincial Park late in the afternoon; as other hikers were finishing their trek, we were just beginning, and so thankful for it. As we rounded the shaded trail onto an open, cobbled beach and then the rocky shoreline facing west, the sunlight glowed softly over everything. Our berry hunting intensified along with our photo stops, in total ignorance of our stomachs that began to growl as the dinner hour approached.

The longer we lingered, the stronger the thought that began to form in my head: this park and this hike both served as a perfect metaphor for the location in which they were situated on the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. It’s not highly visited and a bit rough around the edges, but those that take the time to pay attention to details, or to lift their heads to soak in the beauty, are highly, highly rewarded.

This was our third trip to Nova Scotia in four years. On our first, we rounded the south, on our second, we careened around Cape Breton Island. Both trips were immensely satisfying and deeply rooted our love for the province. This third trip, however, I think we were most eager for.

Precisely because, in the age of overtourism, this large swath of the popular province somehow has remained an elusive road-less-traveled. And if you know us at all, you know that makes it immediately enticing.

Marine Drive stretches up the eastern shore of the province, with freshwater lakes on one side, ocean and 178 wild islands on the other. It twists and it winds, sometimes shrouded in thick greenery, but also running through windswept towns and along immaculate white-sand beaches. It has spots as scenic as any other in the province, and adventures as beguiling, or even more so, if you are looking for something that not everyone has done.

Here’s the best of what we got up to.

taylor head provincial park

We’ve visited parks a’plenty in Nova Scotia on all three trips, and Taylor Head quickly catapulted to the top.

It started with that memorable hike. As typically early risers, we tend to stuff such activities into our mornings, but this late day trek had us rethinking that strategy. The dusky light fell so exquisitely, and by early evening the day-trippers had long left, leaving much of the path to us only. I forgot that I was hungry. I forgot that we had already exerted a good amount of energy in kayaks that morning. It was one of those activities that I wished had gone on for much longer.

And that isn’t all that Taylor Head has to offer. There are several more marked hikes – including an extension to the one we were on – plus a beautiful stretch of beach that we luxuriated on for a short while as well. A solo windsurfer dazzled us as he bounced on the waves – we were somewhat jealous of his skills but also happy to just watch on in admiration.

norse cove

Experiencing Norse Cove wasn’t on our itinerary – but when our sailing trip to the Wild Islands was so sadly canceled due to weather, our guide suggested a day and night on Norse Cove, and we’re so glad he did. The harsh weather stayed farther offshore, leaving us with a sunny day that was entirely perfect.

It included a morning kayak, the late afternoon hike at nearby Taylor Head Provincial Park, and a seaside seafood feast that rivalled any restaurant we’ve been to. We snuggled in a cozy cabin for the night as crashing waves soothed us to sleep. Included were long discussions with our guide Ryan about life-changing decisions, travel, and living on the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. One word to most aptly describe our day is: deep. And immensely appreciated.

BEACH HOPPING

The parking lot was full and Lawrencetown Beach was busy – we had arrived, completely unbeknownst to us, during a surfing competition. Call me exceptionally naive, but I had no idea that surfing even existed here. I’ve never had a desire to try the sport, but I felt compelled just then, as the waves seemed rather uniform and not too terrifying. (That is probably me just being naive again though, as I am sure it is much harder than it looked.)

A little further north we also found Clam Harbour Beach, which was recommended to us by a local as the best one around. We saw no surfing here, just a good number of families enjoying the very long stretch of white sand.

LISCOMBE LODGE

We arrived at Liscombe Lodge, overlooking the Liscomb River, shrouded in threatening clouds. We were itching to hike (as we often are), but knew that rain was in the forecast. We summarized our two choices: go for a swim in the hotel pool or suck it up and get on a trail. The lady at the front desk reminded us: “Well, you’re going to get wet either way.”

Good point. We chose the trail.

Pete immediately referred to the area as Ferngully and was bang-on in his declaration. The hike we took started on the Lodge property and is a 9.6km loop on a well-marked but sometimes overrun trail. This trek also includes a goal: it leads to a scenic suspension bridge at roughly the halfway point. The bridge was a shaky one, but worth crossing for the waterfall view to the left and an overhead look at the quiet creek to the right.

Back at the Lodge, we tucked into some pretty excellent meals and let our Ferngully experience continue. The restaurant is walled with windows on the riverside, with numerous bird feeders wooing all the pretty winged things into our view. The river beckoned to be discovered via canoe, but the weather kept us at bay. This is exactly “our kind of” place, and somewhere that we’d love to return to.

SHERBROOKE VILLAGE

Pro tip: if you’re asked if you’d like to experience something in costume, ALWAYS say yes.

In the 1860s, Sherbrooke was a boomtown, with tall ships bringing prosperity up the St. Mary’s River. Now, the village stands almost exactly as it once was, and its 25 heritage buildings make up the largest museum in all of Nova Scotia. And the best part about visiting Sherbrooke Village is that you can quite literally step into what life was like then.

By that, I mean you can step out of your jeans and into a hoop skirt or suspenders and a bowler. And I am not lying when I say that it certainly transformed our experience there. The villagers (in costume) made it a point to address us differently than other visitors, and by the end of the day I was curtseying and Pete had perfected an effortless hat tip.

GUYSBOROUGH PHOTO CRAWL

The county of Guysborough is big (encompassing a large chunk of the Eastern Shore), but the town itself is home to almost 1,000 people near the easternmost tip of the province. The historic (and stunning) Des Barres Manor housed us for a night, but on the next day, with the forecast only offering us one last full day of sun during our trip, we scheduled ourselves a photo crawl.

Marine Drive has a wee offshoot road to the small, historic town of Canso. After snapping some in the town of Guysborough itself, we took the coastal drive there and made several stops along the way. Our only wish is that we had also saved time for a trip to the nearby Grassy Island National Historic Site – an important spot in the early days of the French-English struggle for control of Canada.

We racked up a lot on the odometer during this trip, and came away with an immense appreciation for all that Nova Scotia offers beyond what is visited most.

And we realized that it takes a visit to the Eastern Shore to really “get it”.

where we stayed

Salmon River Country Inn, Head of Jeddore: Hunble and clean lodging in a perfect, central location for exploring a lot north and south on Marine Drive. Also home to an excellent restaurant and an awesome spot to take outstanding sunset photos.

Norse Cove Camping: This may sound cheesy, but we both felt like we really appreciated the Eastern Shore more by being this close to nature. The cabins are simple (only contain two beds!) but they are new, clean, and with all the services you need nearby. Our only complaint is that the trails to the cabins can get a little confusing (especially after a middle-of-the-night bathroom run), but waking up with the ocean a few feet from us made it all worthwhile.

Liscombe Lodge: Loved everything about our stay here, and would have loved to park it here for a few days to explore all of Ferngully.

DesBarres Manor Inn: An immaculately maintained historic building and the meals offered onsite are award-winning! (Pete declared his haddock dinner the best fish dish he’s ever had – and that’s saying a lot.)

It wasn’t enough for us to indulge in all the food of Prince Edward Island. We wanted to experience it.

lobster fishing

There was a time, in the not too distant past, where lobster was considered poor man’s food.

“My father,” stated Mark, a fourth generation lobster fisherman, “he was bullied for taking lobster sandwiches to school.” Before arriving on the school grounds, he would peel the meat out from between the bread and leave it in a garbage can.

Seems unfathomable, both Pete and I thought. Nowadays, lobster are considered an utterly luxurious food, and along with Pete’s quest to find the best servings across the province, we wanted to learn more about the act of fishing them as well.

It may not have actually been lobster season, but here we were with Captain Mark and his fishing partner Cody, pushing out into the harbour of Charlottetown on a grey and dreary morning. We were searching for their buoys of black and gold and to see firsthand the process required to retrieve what they might hold inside. Yes, because it was off-season the lobsters (and crab) were staged, and we weren’t actually going to be eating what we caught, but that was not the point. We were here to learn.

Lobster fishing is not a year-round affair; the seasons are carefully controlled so as to protect the population. During Mark’s short season he hauls in every trap every day – all 272 of them – until the quota is reached. Except for Sundays that is, as there is an island agreement that everyone takes that day off. It’s not the only unwritten rule among the fisherman as everyone’s placement of traps is also acknowledged and respected. There is a strong sense of community, and the desire to have “everyone win”.

At the first trap, one of the youngest in our tour helped to pull it in. With a long hooked pole she effortlessly snagged the line attached to the buoy. Draping and towing the rope over a pulley, Mark hoisted the trap to the surface and hauled it onto the boat. Three different times, traps were pulled at three different locations. The critters inside were brought out for display and discussion.

We learned of the difference between the sexes, the measurements for which they could be kept or tossed, and how technology has even evolved with the traps. When the GoPro first came out, they attached one to a trap and left it submersed for three hours. It was the first time they were able to watch the pattern of their crustacean targets, and to contemplate the effectiveness of their traps. It resulted in immediate changes in design, and an increase of 30% in their catches.

(This appealed to the analytical nerd in me. Coming into this I already had a romantic notion of a life on the water, and that fact amplified it. Of course, the life of a fisherman is not near as dreamy as I imagine it to be, but I’ll just continue to pretend that it is.)

“In the winter we drink beer, play hockey, and build traps,” Mark said, “in that order.” To these two Canadians, that sounds pretty good.

clamming

John seemed an unlikely tour guide — soft spoken, devoid of any emphatic displays or exaggeration of storytelling – traits that usually lend to others in his position. Might I say that I think that makes him the perfect tour guide? He was so clearly knowledgable of his craft, living in a place he loves, and sharing the joy of his work with the many who visit.

Along with his wife Jackie, they own a beautiful house on the Pinette River. In their backyard, we loaded up with bug spray and clamming tools and descended the stairs and onto the muck below. With the tide out, the bay was rust red with streaks of tepid water left behind several hours before. The conditions were perfect to begin our hunt.

As instructed, we placed the shovel a few inches behind a tiny hole in the otherwise smooth sand, indicative of a clam underneath. The bigger the hole, the bigger the clam, usually. We carefully pressured the shovel into the sand with the sole of one foot and then turned the earth over slowly in an effort to not crack the soft shells. On almost every turn, we found clams, and checked the size against the guide on the size of our bucket. Smaller clams were returned to the sand, larger ones were kept for a future feast.

In the muddier sections, quahogs were our quest. They sit just below the surface; they are a little more durable and easily raked up.

In all, we spent no more than an hour mucking in the mud, probably less, and we had the freedom to come and go from John and Jackie’s house as we pleased. But Pete and I were the last two to leave, thoroughly enjoying the pursuit and in my case, the feel of the mud between my toes (my sandals were a hindrance to any movement in the sticky mud, I quickly set them aside and got back to clammin’).

While our treasures were sent off to be cleaned, the group ate yesterday’s catch that Jackie cooked up during our dig. Clams cooked only in their own juice with celery and carrots and served with butter, the quahogs came later. Beyond our catch: a mussel station, an assortment of vegetables and cold beverages, and even Jackie’s homemade donuts.

I am not an eater of fish or seafood and I devoured the donuts (so greedily as to not have even bothered to take a photo of them). But whether I ate the results of our efforts or not mattered none – on this day it was the experience that mattered.

how to do it

Our lobster fishing experience through Top Notch Charters was so informative and enthralling. The lobster fishing industry is such an important part of Maritime culture that this is truly not to be missed.

Same goes for our experience with Happy Clammers! And the very best part of our afternoon is that we felt like we were visiting the home of friends. The hospitality and warmth of John and Jackie is a perfect display of what the people of Atlantic Canada are all about.

It’s the kind of locale we dream of stumbling upon as travelers.

It’s remote, off-the-grid. There is no mention of it anywhere in Lonely Planet.

There are few, if any, tourists. It’s as ‘local’ an experience as you could ever hope to find. It teems with the natural beauty of large rolling fields, multi-toned forests, and crumbling farm buildings speckling the countryside. For anyone inclined to explore the outdoors, there are any number of entertaining options. And if you’re up late (or early, as it may be) at the right time of year, expect to be treated to flashes of green and yellow northern lights dancing across the sky.

It’s the Peace River Country in the northwest corner of Alberta, and it also happens to be where I grew up. And upon my return after a two year absence, I’m looking at it in a whole new way.

It’s no longer the place I couldn’t wait to get away from. I don’t care that it doesn’t have the energy and amenities of a big city. It’s quiet, it’s remote, and it’s oh-so-beautiful.

The Dunvegan Valley is still one of my favourite places in the world, especially in fall as the colours begin to turn.

Picturesque trails are ample and peaceful.

This picture was taken just outside my old backyard. I don’t remember the sunsets ever being this brilliant.

This is the farm that my grandmother grew up on. I can’t believe I had never been there before, and could have taken pictures for hours.

If I was not suffering from a permanent travel bug infestation (and, they could do something about the chilly winters), I could see myself living there again. The only thing it is missing for me is the challenge of exploring somewhere unfamiliar, of fumbling my way around with maps and a dictionary to translate.

So it clearly can’t be my “undiscovered gem”. But maybe it can be yours.

All the locals we met in Quebec’s capital were jovial and welcoming, perhaps impressed with our month-long commitment to their city during the depths of winter. They often apologized for their English while asking of our French, to which we quickly revealed our incompetence. It was of no matter though, and at times we even felt welcomed into an exclusive brotherhood forged of frosty endurance.And within our month we were exposed to the full cycle of their Canadian winter. We felt the fierce bite of temperatures nearing -30C and several days when we couldn’t bear the thought of going outdoors, especially given that the intensity of a snowstorm wouldn’t permit us to see anything anyways. On other days, warm rain thawed the city and eliminated the banks of snow. Our Christmas Day was not a white one.

But for the majority of our time, it was exactly as we had hoped it would be: old cobbled streets were covered by a thick blanket of snow and icicles reflected the rainbow of Christmas lights. Sidewalks were filled with people enjoying their holidays – at -15C we expected a small crowd out for New Year’s Eve celebrations but instead found ourselves in the middle of a swinging street party.

On those days there is no other city in Canada that can match the magic of winter in Quebec or a Quebec City Christmas. It’s debatable whether the best moments of summer even come close. And these are the ones we will remember. Nous nous souviendrons.

Given that the Quebec winter endeared instead of scared us, we are vowing to return one day to enjoy the Quebec Winter Carnival!

We both grew up with the Rocky Mountains within reach. The image of their grandeur, whether right in front of us or just as faint peaks on the horizon, is what drives much of our travels. We crave elevation for the overarching view it provides, we feel comforted when enveloped by rocky pyramids. We’ll enjoy a beach every now and then, sure, but specks of sand will never give us the strength that mountains do.

Although I’m not sure we ever fully realized it until we got back to Alberta and realized how much we missed the Rockies, from Banff to Jasper, to Waterton, the Crowsnest Pass, and more. It is where we feel most at home. And so we bring you some of our favourite photos from recent travels, and some guidance for those who are only visitors on how to enjoy them best.

Mountains are not stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve, they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion. ~ Anatoli Boukreev

No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied – it speaks in silence to the very core of your being ~ Ansel Adams

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. ~ Edward Abbey

Keep close to Nature’s heart…and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean. ~ John Muir

This mountain, the arched back of the earth risen before us, it made me feel humble, like a beggar, just lucky to be here at all, even briefly. ~ Bridget Asher

All of these mountains can be enjoyed in the vicinity of Banff, Canmore, and Jasper, Alberta. Here are our recommendations on where to stay in the area:

High-end It should be a #lifegoal to stay at the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel! It is historically and culturally significant to the area, is beautifully elegant, and is surrounding by wilderness and views of the Rocky Mountains.

banff

Mid-range Not only is the Rimrock Resort Hotel a stunning lower-priced option (it has been our “go to” on trips to Banff), but we also really enjoyed the spa.

Budget We have not personally stayed at the Red Carpet Inn, but the reviews suggest that this is one of the best places in Banff to stay on a tighter budget.

canmore

High-end The StoneRidge Mountain Resort is a gorgeous, modern hotel that has views of the Rockies and all the amenities anyone could dream of!

Mid-range Take a cooking class or borrow the bikes and explore downtown at the Paintbox Lodge, a reasonably-priced lodge in Canmore.

Budget The Mountain View Inn is a great place to stay on a budget, and even has great, clear views of the mountains.

jasper

High-end The Jasper Park Lodge reviews say staying there is unforgettable and that everyone is incredibly helpful and friendly. The view isn’t bad either!

Mid-range Stay close to the center of town at the Mount Robson Inn with mountain views and enjoy a complimentary breakfast.

Budget The lovely Miette Guest House has a shared kitchen and laundry facility on site. The reviews recommend that you request a room on the ground floor.

I like geography best, he said, because your mountains and rivers know the secret. Pay no attention to boundaries. ~ Brian Andreas

There was probably no better possible time for us to stop at a spa. Given the punishment we had given ourselves earlier in the day with physical activity in the nearby Valle Bras Du Nord (me especially), some good old standard pampering was what we needed.

Except that we could definitely have used more time for it. And the Siberia Spa was far from “standard”.

It is, without a doubt, the most unique set-up for a spa that we’ve ever seen – with numerous different spa stations to sample outdoors, in two hours we barely had enough time to try them all to find our favourite.

Our directions upon entering was to follow the prescribed Nordic method of hot-cold-relax. The benefits of the blast of cold we learned about in Finland – it is meant to energy, reinvigorate, and is the prescribed method to fight off colds, etc. After our first turn of hot in the Eucalyptus spa, we sauntered over to the cool waterfall and I gingerly dipped my toes in.

I took one step down the stairs, such that the cool water was up past my ankles. A shiver shot through me.

I turned around and promptly left. Pete tried to urge me back in.

“You can’t make me,” I asserted. I had proven my cold-weather prowess in Finland, not just once, but four times. I had nothing to prove here! And, after the harrowing and exhausting day I had just had, I was eager to get to the relax portion of our visit.<For two and a half hours we wandered the spa, taking in various different forms of heat, and then finding a cozy nook or chair to relax in. Into the infrared sauna, Finnish sauna, steam bath, and more. I did dip my toes in the cool pools again, and once even went so far as to step under the waterfall for the briefest of seconds, but was content to just enjoy the warmth that was permeating my body and soul.

After the long day we had just had, we pulled into the parking lot of the Siberia Spa with tired dread and kinda just wishing we could beeline back to the hotel. And after just a couple of hours there, we certainly wished we didn’t have to leave.