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Up the Lake: Coastal British Columbia Stories

by Wayne J. Lutz

218 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); illustrated; catalogue #04-2847; ISBN 1-4120-5038-3; US$19.95, C$24.95, EUR16.25, £11.26

From Desolation Sound to Jervis Inlet, coastal British Columbia at its best. Canadian stories about the Sunshine Coast. Boating, hiking, and survival off the grid in coastal BC, where mountains drop into the ocean and lifestyles focus on self-reliance and a different sense of purpose.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

From Desolation Sound to Jervis Inlet, coastal British Columbia at its best. Canadian stories about the Sunshine Coast.

Boating, hiking, biking, and survival off the grid in coastal BC, where mountains drop into the ocean and lifestyles focus on self-reliance and a different sense of purpose.

Life aboard a floating cabin on Powell Lake. Boating and kayaking on the region's lakes and the Strait of Georgia, and off-road riding on quad and motorcycle.

Two hundred cabins float on Powell Lake, serving as a backdrop for stories of locals who are isolated from the bustle of the surrounding world. Cabin access is by boat only. The lake is the scene of serious logging activity as well as recreation for the stout of heart with a desire for wilderness adventure.

These regional stories share common threads that paint a unique picture of the Powell River and its inhabitants. Numerous maps and illustrations accompany the stories, broken into 22 chapters with 63 illustrations.

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About the Author

Wayne Lutz is Chairman of the Department of Aeronautics at Mount San Antonio College in Los Angeles. The Mt SAC Flying Team has won the annual title of Top Community College Flying Team in the USA three times since 2000. Wayne is a flight instructor with 7000 hours of flight experience. In the past twenty years, he has spent summers in Canada, exploring remote regions with his Piper Arrow and camping next to his airplane. Then he discovered Powell River, British Columbia. The author has a full-time home in California and a part-time Canadian residence in a floating cabin on Powell Lake. His writing genres include regional Canadian publications and science fiction.

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Excerpts

Chapter 1

Mount Mahony

December winds blow strong and gusty from the southeast, a favorite direction for the creation of shipwrecks on the chuck, and a time to hunker down and avoid temptations involving oceans or lakes. This will be a rare night, a sleep-over in town. I am tempted to try the lower portion of the lake to see if it is safe, but that would provide little indication of conditions farther north. Pilots call these temptations sucker holes. You see a break in the clouds and go for it, only to find the path blocked by severe weather, and then the path behind you slams shut.

The condo's balcony door is cracked open - the living room is warm. The clanging of sailboat mast tackle broadcasts the wind velocity in the nearby harbor. Metallic quavering of the masts spells strong winds tonight, and there is no relief in sight. A wound up low-pressure system over the Queen Charlottes is deepening rather than moving. It draws air northward through the Strait of Georgia, directly over Powell River. Texada Island acts as a temporary buffer for the blast, only to refocus the winds through the Malaspina Strait, right outside my window. It is too dark to see the sailboats in the harbor, but I hear their masts' tinny clatter.

Sheets of rain pound against the balcony door, with a few drops forcing their way in through the narrow screen opening. The cold air swirls near the door, blowing extra energy into the roaring gas fireplace. This rain and wind is supposed to last for days, but forecasts this time of year are suspect. No one puts any faith in the weatherman's prognosis regarding two more days of rain, followed by sunny breaks, followed by more rain and wind. We take whatever comes our way, and life is geared to go on for months like this without major interruption. The Sunshine Coast (Rain Coast) is weather resistant rather than weather repellent. Everyone accepts the weather and just digs in.

Winter, with its short rainy days, is so different than the summer's nearly continuous sunshine and twilight (punctuated by downpours). The term "snowbird" is appropriate here, although only occasional snow marks this moderate coastal marine climate. It is rain rather than snow that dominates the winter, but the nearly constant clouds and darkness are what drive the locals to the south. These "rainbirds" travel widely during all months of the year, but the winter is when they go south to find the sun. Part of this extensive travel is induced by the island-like nature of Powell River. On paved roads, you cannot drive more than 25 miles in any direction before you hit the end of the road. And there is really only one road. Island fever, coupled with the gray overcast of the rainy season, generates locals who are automatically geared up to leave in the winter.

Children growing up here gravitate into two categories: those who are planning their permanent escape as soon as they are able and those who want to stay forever. They either hate it or they love it. There are few who fall in between.

In the winter, the rainbirds' focus of travel is Arizona and California. One of my favorite winter flight destinations from my home near Los Angeles is Phoenix. The flight takes me over stark desert terrain, and there is a particular winter spot that attracts hundreds of travel trailers in the middle of nowhere, grouped in wide circles like wagon trains. I gaze down on this bleak environment from my Piper Arrow, imagining that these are locals from Powell River, living their winter dream - day after day of Arizona sunshine.

I am stunned to learn that a popular garden-spot of retirement for Powell River residents is Hemet, California. This desert community, registering consistent summer temperatures of over 35 degrees C for weeks on end, is not exactly my idea of paradise.

I used to plan a winter trip each year to a cold destination. Now, Powell River is my winter choice. Living in southern California, it is always fun to have a bit of snow for the holidays. One year it was Denver, another year Salt Lake City, then Edmonton.

The visit to Edmonton was particularly memorable. There are few places more consistently cold and desolate than Edmonton in the winter. The frigid winds whip across the Alberta prairie, chilling Edmonton to daytime highs of - 30 C. I've never been so cold in my life, including a two-week winter military deployment to Alaska. On this Edmonton trip, I ran into some local residents who were, ironically, en route to Anchorage to "warm up." I also watched a fellow at the Edmonton Airport run up to an airline counter, hold out his wallet, and yell: "Give me a ticket to Hawaii!" The Edmonton to Honolulu route must be particularly popular.

When I arrived in Edmonton in the dark (there is little distinction between day and night in December), the line for customs inspections was short. In fact, my wife, Margy, and I were the customs inspector's only arriving non-Canadian passengers. When he asked the purpose of our travel, I replied: "Vacation." The customs inspector gave us a suspicious look, laughed, and stamped us through.

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Catalogue Information

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