A Return Visit to Chilliwack Lake

Chilliwack Lake stretches out long and deep, entirely embraced by tall, snow-capped mountains. The setting is truly spectacular. I’ve explored its side roads and shores numerous times over the years, but my last visit was a full eight years ago. Not having a vehicle for backcountry travel had kept me grounded for too long, so getting back behind the wheel of a truck made this trip a top priority.

Nick takes Mondays off, making it our primary day for exploration. Even so, it had been all the way back in July since we last managed to get out in the truck; having a day off often means appointments tend to fill the calendar. Determined to keep our Mondays more open, our window finally arrived. I wanted to share the sweeping views with Nick, who had never been here before. The park was also on my Parks-on-the-Air list, giving me the chance to add it to my activations. I had a precise operating spot in mind right along the Trans-Canada Trail—a location that would give me a wonderful "twofer" with an amazing view.

We left the house at 9:30 AM, setting out to pick up Subway sandwiches for lunch, along with some coffee and a long drink for the truck. It was quite thirsty after several trips of shying away from the painfully overpriced pumps, and being a diesel, watching the numbers tick up was particularly scary. Nick made good time along the highway and the first half of Chilliwack River Road, though he had to weave around many parked cars left behind by anglers fishing the river. The drive began taking a toll on his concentration, so I took over for the final 15 kilometers.

Soon, we arrived at the park entrances to find them locked, accompanied by implied notices about why anyone would venture here at this time of year. Still, a few other brave fools were out, and we continued on our way, enjoying the rugged grandeur of the backcountry in mid-autumn—long after the fair-weather crowds had retreated to their warm houses, safe from experiencing nature’s harsher moments.

Even so, it was a lovely day and really quite pleasant outside, though the evening promised a severe rainstorm. Upon reaching the end of the pavement, we transitioned to the rougher resource road winding down the eastern shore. The spot I wanted to reach sat about two-thirds of the way along the lake. With the road in good condition, we made great time, driving just past our destination briefly to check out a beach area I wanted to visit. A massive tree log sprawled across the sand—the exact same log that had been there on my first trip 20 years ago, looking wonderfully unchanged. The beach itself looked a little different, likely due to small seasonal variations in lake level, but overall, it was as lovely as ever. I left Nick on the beach and drove the truck a short distance back to the point overlooking it, where I wanted to set up my radio station.

With the truck positioned perfectly, I went about setting up my newest piece of gear: a StarLink Satellite transceiver. It deployed quickly, and I soon had full internet access in a pocket completely devoid of cell coverage, though my VHF radio retained a link to the Sumas Mountain repeater I regularly use when exploring the region. Next, I set up my main HF radio and began scanning the bands. The 20-meter band was busy but very noisy; 15-meter was completely quiet, though the charts promised it should be good. I tried calling out on 15-meter and managed two contacts, but they were slow to materialize.

Next, I messaged my club members back home, and we were soon chatting over strong signals on 40 meters. I messaged Carolyn to try as well, and moments later my phone rang with her asking for clarification—my very first StarLink-enabled phone call, which sounded no different than a normal one.

Having worked the group back home, I shifted over to the 20-meter band, selected an open frequency, and began calling. Deep in a valley with high peaks towering all around, I was unsure how far my signal would punch through, but responses quickly rolled in from California and Arizona. The granite walls encasing me seemed to block the East Coast, but I still got out cleanly and completed 14 contacts all told. It wasn't a massive number, but it was more than I needed, and it felt deeply satisfying to get the park successfully completed.

At that point, we paused to eat our sandwiches and just admire the view for a while. A couple of vehicles passed by while we rested, but the road was wonderfully quiet. One chap on his return trip stopped to chat; he recognized the antenna and asked how I was getting on. Driving a brand-new Jeep, he was just as excited as I was to finally be back out on the road after missing it for a while.

Looking southward, we could see storm clouds starting to shove their way into the valley. As the light grew a bit duller, we felt it was time to pack up and head home, eager to avoid driving through a heavy downpour in the dark. Nick started the drive back, but found the road too monotonous to stay sharp, so he asked the senior in the car to take over driving! I suppose experience really does have its benefits.

I drove the rest of the way home, retracing most of the eastern route before transitioning to 16th Avenue once back in Abbotsford. It felt profoundly good to get back out there. I hope to return to the area within a few weeks—there are still plenty of side roads to wander along before the winter snows close them for the season.