DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 37,329
- 6,021
I promised I would post a report of my trip to Toad River, on the northern boundary of the Muskwa-Kechika region of British Columbia. Gil brought his wife Susan, attending services on Sunday morning. We loaded up and left after lunch on Sunday afternoon, driving to Fort Nelson (Mile 300 of the Alaska Highway) the first evening. The following morning, we headed for Toad River (Mile 422 of the Alaska Highway). During the trip, we stopped at Steamboat. They had advertised the best cinnamon rolls on the Alaska Highway. They weren't as good as I remembered from previous trips, but they were nevertheless a welcome break from the monotony of driving.
By this point in the journey, gasoline has become a bit expensive. For you living in the USA, the price is per litre ($1.68) and it takes 3.8 litres to make one US gallon. Granted, this was the most expensive gas we encountered on the trip, but after leaving Dawson Creek, the price only climbed steadily upward. In Toad River, we were able to buy gas at 1.559 per litre. We were glad that we had brought a little with us (310 litres in jerry cans).
We stopped to drink in some of the mountain grandeur as we entered into the Northern Rockies. There are some delightful vistas along the route. Frankly, it is impossible to do justice with a camera. However, this gives some idea of the vast expanse stretching before us.
I drove my Lariat (loaded as full as I could make it) and Gil drove his Toyota and towed his holiday trailer. It was one of the most luxurious back country trips I've ever made. I guess I'm growing older since I actually appreciated the comfort and convenience.
We finally arrived in Toad River. Toad River lies in a valley, nestled between some awesome mountain peaks. This is an older picture of the townsite (such as it is).
It is a rustic location with some fascinating old buildings.
However, we secured a campsite with an excellent view of a delightful beaver pond and the surrounding mountains.
Every night, we were treated to a herd of elk gathered in a field about 1.3 km from our campsite. Unfortunately, due to misreading the regulations, we were unable to take any elk. We found multiple large herds of elk with big bulls throughout the valley. However, they were off limits. We made the disappointing discovered that access to the back country was quite limited; without a horse or a quad, we simply couldn't penetrate as far as we might otherwise have liked. This doesn't mean there was not game present. We thoroughly explored one avenue leading back to an abandoned copper mine. The initial road wasn't too bad, once we forded the river.
We managed to make it to a dry gulch. As we topped the hill, we espied three caribou standing in the middle of the gulch. There was a young bull harassing a cow with her calf. The animals were thoroughly incautious, coming within forty yards of us (the cow and the calf). The bull was somewhat more cautious, stopping sixty yards away. The regulations state that bulls must have five points on the uppermost portion of the antler, and I was only able to make this one have four. We saw multiple caribou after this, and all the bulls had four points. In several days of hard hunting, we only saw two caribou taken. Locals told us that the big bulls won't come down until the snow flies in the high country. As it was, temperatures were hovering in the low to mid-twenties while we were there.
We pushed on from this first encounter to explore as far as we could go. We espied a good looking bull moose about a km away as we journeyed deeper into the mountains. He was across a sizable muskeg. We tried some calling, but he wasn't having anything to do with us. Then, we saw that he was already focused on his lady love. Obviously, he was unwilling to leave her side for unknown hussy. Though the new sound may have seemed attractive, I speculated that the bull was wagering that the certainty of a bird in hand... well, you understand. We forded yet another river, finally coming to a ford that I was unwilling to drive into. The Rushing River seemed to have an appropriate name, and all sorts of delights seemed to be promised tantalisingly close. However, being some sixty kilometers from any help, I was loath to gamble that we wouldn't be compelled to walk out after spending a night afield.
Susan contented herself collecting unusual rocks while Gil and I planned out next move.
We tried calling moose a couple of times on the trip out of the wilderness, but there was no success. The next day would be another opportunity to explore a new area.
We arose at five and prepared for a full day. We managed to make it to the top of one of the nearby mountains, only to discover another hunter had preceded us. He was situated with his spotting scope, watching a moose about two kilometers away. Upon careful examination, we pointed out to him that there were in fact three, and possibly four moose. He told us that the day before he had spotted a large boar grizzly to the north (about 1.5 kilometers from where I am standing in the following picture), and another man had watched a sow and cub in that same area earlier the same day. There was certainly game about, but it was ensconced firmly in the back country. The scenery from atop the mountain was spectacular, but it yielded no legal game for us.
Later that day, we drove to Muncho Lake.
On the drive back to the camper, we watched a number of stone sheep. One, a near full-curl ram, was well within bow range. It bothered Gil terribly that he didn't take it. However, he would get his chance another day. Because of the limited access and the restrictions on elk, I argued that we needed to go back south and stay in the Pink Mountain area to hunt moose, elk and caribou. There are a couple of zones in that area where I would be able to hunt caribou, and elk were open, as was moose, mule deer and whitetail. So, the decision was made. Though we didn't take any game in Toad River, it was an excellent trip. We saw quite a bit of game (such as the caribou cow and calf in the following picture), but none that was legal for me or that would have allowed us to retrieve the game within the timeframe we allowed ourselves.
By this point in the journey, gasoline has become a bit expensive. For you living in the USA, the price is per litre ($1.68) and it takes 3.8 litres to make one US gallon. Granted, this was the most expensive gas we encountered on the trip, but after leaving Dawson Creek, the price only climbed steadily upward. In Toad River, we were able to buy gas at 1.559 per litre. We were glad that we had brought a little with us (310 litres in jerry cans).
We stopped to drink in some of the mountain grandeur as we entered into the Northern Rockies. There are some delightful vistas along the route. Frankly, it is impossible to do justice with a camera. However, this gives some idea of the vast expanse stretching before us.
I drove my Lariat (loaded as full as I could make it) and Gil drove his Toyota and towed his holiday trailer. It was one of the most luxurious back country trips I've ever made. I guess I'm growing older since I actually appreciated the comfort and convenience.
We finally arrived in Toad River. Toad River lies in a valley, nestled between some awesome mountain peaks. This is an older picture of the townsite (such as it is).
It is a rustic location with some fascinating old buildings.
However, we secured a campsite with an excellent view of a delightful beaver pond and the surrounding mountains.
Every night, we were treated to a herd of elk gathered in a field about 1.3 km from our campsite. Unfortunately, due to misreading the regulations, we were unable to take any elk. We found multiple large herds of elk with big bulls throughout the valley. However, they were off limits. We made the disappointing discovered that access to the back country was quite limited; without a horse or a quad, we simply couldn't penetrate as far as we might otherwise have liked. This doesn't mean there was not game present. We thoroughly explored one avenue leading back to an abandoned copper mine. The initial road wasn't too bad, once we forded the river.
We managed to make it to a dry gulch. As we topped the hill, we espied three caribou standing in the middle of the gulch. There was a young bull harassing a cow with her calf. The animals were thoroughly incautious, coming within forty yards of us (the cow and the calf). The bull was somewhat more cautious, stopping sixty yards away. The regulations state that bulls must have five points on the uppermost portion of the antler, and I was only able to make this one have four. We saw multiple caribou after this, and all the bulls had four points. In several days of hard hunting, we only saw two caribou taken. Locals told us that the big bulls won't come down until the snow flies in the high country. As it was, temperatures were hovering in the low to mid-twenties while we were there.
We pushed on from this first encounter to explore as far as we could go. We espied a good looking bull moose about a km away as we journeyed deeper into the mountains. He was across a sizable muskeg. We tried some calling, but he wasn't having anything to do with us. Then, we saw that he was already focused on his lady love. Obviously, he was unwilling to leave her side for unknown hussy. Though the new sound may have seemed attractive, I speculated that the bull was wagering that the certainty of a bird in hand... well, you understand. We forded yet another river, finally coming to a ford that I was unwilling to drive into. The Rushing River seemed to have an appropriate name, and all sorts of delights seemed to be promised tantalisingly close. However, being some sixty kilometers from any help, I was loath to gamble that we wouldn't be compelled to walk out after spending a night afield.
Susan contented herself collecting unusual rocks while Gil and I planned out next move.
We tried calling moose a couple of times on the trip out of the wilderness, but there was no success. The next day would be another opportunity to explore a new area.
We arose at five and prepared for a full day. We managed to make it to the top of one of the nearby mountains, only to discover another hunter had preceded us. He was situated with his spotting scope, watching a moose about two kilometers away. Upon careful examination, we pointed out to him that there were in fact three, and possibly four moose. He told us that the day before he had spotted a large boar grizzly to the north (about 1.5 kilometers from where I am standing in the following picture), and another man had watched a sow and cub in that same area earlier the same day. There was certainly game about, but it was ensconced firmly in the back country. The scenery from atop the mountain was spectacular, but it yielded no legal game for us.
Later that day, we drove to Muncho Lake.
On the drive back to the camper, we watched a number of stone sheep. One, a near full-curl ram, was well within bow range. It bothered Gil terribly that he didn't take it. However, he would get his chance another day. Because of the limited access and the restrictions on elk, I argued that we needed to go back south and stay in the Pink Mountain area to hunt moose, elk and caribou. There are a couple of zones in that area where I would be able to hunt caribou, and elk were open, as was moose, mule deer and whitetail. So, the decision was made. Though we didn't take any game in Toad River, it was an excellent trip. We saw quite a bit of game (such as the caribou cow and calf in the following picture), but none that was legal for me or that would have allowed us to retrieve the game within the timeframe we allowed ourselves.
