British Columbia is a tough place to explore. Not because of access, grizzly bears, or deep canyons. No, it’s the Germans. It seems as though every river you scout or even mention in B.C. turns up the same response: “Oh yeah, I think some Germans paddled it a long time ago and said it was no good.”
The North Stein was no different. People had been talking about it for years—locals, travellers, pro boaters, you name it—eyeing it as a potential creek access to its famous bigger brother, the Stein River. The North Stein too, had the usual story of some Germans paddling it years ago and saying, “don’t go back.” Luckily, our group didn’t hear this story until we had our minds set on the adventure, whatever it was to hold.
The main Stein is a classic two- to three-day run in southern B.C.’s Coast Range. The normal put-in is Stein Lake, accessed only by floatplane. The flight to Stein Lake is nothing short of incredible—huge moun- tains laced with shining glaciers, amazing cascades, multiple creeks and lakes of varying colours, and a patchwork landscape. Unfortunately the cost of flying into the lake doesn’t fit into a kayaker’s budget, except on rare occasions.
TWO RIVERS FOR LESS THAN THE PRICE OF ONE
In 2002, we flew in to run the main Stein and gazed down at the North Stein: whitewater, and lots of it. It looked incredibly steep from the air and dropped right to the main Stein only two kilometres below the normal put-in at Stein Lake. It also originated closer to the main highway between Lillooet and Pemberton. Maybe, we thought, there was a logging road that led to or near its headwaters that started from the highway.
This sparked a curiosity that would stay with us for the whole trip. If the North Stein could be successfully completed, it would open up an alternate and much cheaper access route to this amazing drainage. Also, you would get two rivers for less than the price of one.
The dry season of fall was soon upon us. With no boating to be found in the area, scouting out new runs was the only way to satisfy Lytton local Braden Fandrich’s kayaking urges. The North Stein was still itching at his mind. Borrowing a four-wheeler, he went out to find a way to access the North Stein by vehicle. To his amazement and excitement, he found an old overgrown logging road off the main highway from Lillooet that eventually led to the backside of the North Stein drainage. From here it would only be about a 10-kilometre hike up and over a pass into the North Stein itself.
THE DRIVE INTO THE UNKNOWN
Only having a single scout from an airplane isn’t usually your best plan of action for dropping into an unknown, steep waterway, but we were in for the adventure. Our crew was lean and mean, fast and furi- ous: Braden—smooth Canadian all-arounder; myself— a yank known for getting a bit dangerous at times but coming out sparkling clean; and Corey Boux (pronounced like “bucks”)—Canadian glamour huckster. It was late July and the river levels in the area were perfect for an undertaking like this, not raging high but not back-jarring low either.
With our boats packed for four days, 80-plus pounds, the drive into the unknown began. Thick brush scraping down on both sides of my 4×4 left only a small portion of the windshield that could be seen through. The last person on this road must have been Braden the year before on his quad. And before that who knows. The road seemed to end many times but we pushed on hoping to get as close to the base of the mountain pass as possible.
We finally arrived at a point where the road ended for sure. Immediately after getting out of the truck we were swarmed by hungry mosquitoes. They followed us for the entire hike to the put-in, some seven kilometres later. Our bodies sweated profusely, to the delight of the mosquitoes, from heaving our loaded boats on makeshift backpacks up and over the summit, and having to wear all our underlayers for protection from the bugs. For the next few days a blind person could have read random sentences on our bodies from all the bites.
Even in a fog of mosquitoes, we couldn’t help but relish the majesty of the environment. When doing the main Stein we only saw this alpine beauty from the seat of the plane. But while on this hike we were immersed in it. An enormous green, glacier-carved valley surrounded us. The spring water we drank tast- ed like the lips of an angel. It flowed directly out of the ice fields above. The hike went from steep, boulder-strewn uphill to the top of the pass, to a flat, mossy valley, to a steep tree-covered downhill, which, much to our surprise, ended at our put-in.
Whether the hike to the put-in took three or five hours was beyond recollection. We were on river time, and now that time had finally come. We were all thank- ful to see enough water to float on. Now we could gain refuge in our drytops from the onslaught of mosquitoes.
READY FOR WHATEVER THE CREEK THREW AT US
Now the real adventure begins. What was this creek to hold? How steep was it at river level? Would we portage more than paddle? Could we portage when we had to? How many days would it take us? Did we have enough food? We drifted around the first bend, ready for whatever the creek was to throw at us.
The North Stein flows 12 kilometres before reaching the main Stein. After the hike it was nice to not have to contend with pounding class V but to just lay back, relax and enjoy the surroundings. The rest of that first day we just slowly drifted 10 kilometres through amaz- ing scenery and a few logjams. We remembered from the flight the year before that once the action started
it didn’t stop until the river ended. We camped at the first major slide we came to, which marked the begin- ning of the slanted, white-filled river that would take
us straight to the Stein itself. With about an hour left of daylight we cooked dinner, talked shit, and counted our mosquito bites. Tomorrow would be our day of reckoning, the mystery of the North Stein unravelled.
WAKING UP TO QUALITY WHITEWATER
Waking up to quality whitewater, an entire day in fact, is why I thank my mother for giving me life. It is hard to imagine an entire day, dawn ‘til dusk, of sensational whitewater, but this is what we found ourselves immersed in on day two of our journey—two kilometres dropping 900 feet each. These two kilometres on the North Stein were, as Boux put it, “the best creek I have paddled in B.C.”—a granitic paradise much like California, but with the consistency of Norway.
There were 19 slides and waterfalls growing in size and difficulty, each with a calm pool at the bottom. Standing on the brink of a drop you could see three drops above that had just been paddled and two horizon lines below to come. Four of these 19 drops we portaged. Light tree cover and no canyon walls made the portages quick and painless. Two of these could probably have been paddled if we were closer to help. Commenting on the few portages that we did,
Fandrich said, “The portaging was the easiest I have ever done on a steep creek, or in B.C.” After all this came the legendary upper portions of the main Stein River with its big-volume slides.
FIRST DESCENT OR NOT IS BESIDE THE POINT
Three days after we started, we were sitting in the resort hot tub at Kumsheen Rafting with big meals in our bellies and beers in hand, talking of our adventure, the Germans, and other rivers that we had heard of them doing. Maybe they had paddled everything around here, found the area to be so pristine and majestic that they just wanted to keep it secret. Maybe all the stories we had heard would lead to more gems. Or maybe the Germans had never paddled the North Stein at all.
First descent or not is beside the point. Let it be just as adventurous on the tenth descent as on the first. That is why we kayak anyway. It isn’t about the rapids, how big the slides are, or how much portaging we do. It is all about the journey itself. The hardships, the friendships, the paddling, and the outcome, all in one.
What matters is that the money dilemma on the Stein has been removed. In it’s place is an alternate and incredible route. A route so breathtaking that pad- dlers who venture there might not only find granite and water, but something about themselves and the true meaning of paddling. I think the Germans would be proud.
David Norell produced the videos The Revolution and The Revolution 2: Broke, Hungry And Happy. Full coverage of the North Stein will appear in his next release tentatively titled The Revolution 3, due out in Spring 2004.
This article first appeared in the Spring 2004 issue of Rapid Magazine.
