Technically speaking, I haven't done anything wrong; by most standards, I'm pretty sure I still end up on the 'actually cares about the planet' side of the scale. But after having gone on a snowmobile tour earlier this month – and loving pretty much every single moment of it – I have to admit that I'm feeling a bit conflicted.
For two years before moving here, I didn't own a car, and neither did my wife. We also rarely used public transit; instead, we rode our bikes almost everywhere we needed to go. Of course, we're realists; we knew there was no way we'd be able to live here without a car, at least if we hoped to enjoy all these mountains surrounding the town.
Still, we're fairly conscientious about our life making as little impact as possible. The majority of our food comes from inside the province; we both walk to work whenever possible; I even turn the water off in the shower while soaping up, despite the Town's assurances that we're never going to run out of good water here. So it goes without saying that I've always assumed (yes, making you know what out of u and me) that snowmobilers are all redneck types that don't care what sort of damage their machines are doing to the environment, or to the experience of that environment by other non-motorized users.
Before you start preparing your letter-to-the-editor diatribe, read on.
A few weeks ago, Dustin Harvey offered to take me out on a half-day snowmobile tour. Dustin moved to Smithers a while ago, with the intention of starting up a snowmobile tour company, which is exactly what he's done. He worked as a snowmobile guide for a few years, and wanted to move somewhere he could start up his own operation. A friend pointed him towards Smithers, and about two months ago, Harvey Mountain Tours officially started offering sled tours and rentals. Although tourism is not as huge as it could be in the Bulkley Valley, Dustin said he's looking forward to the future.
“I think we've definitely got a lot of potential. It's going to be good in the next few years,” he said. “I can do trips right into June on good snow.”
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| Dustin carving powder near Pine Creek. |
“I just like getting out into the backcountry, and the machines are really fun once you learn how to ride them,” he said.
Some of the areas he travels to are so remote they would take days or even weeks to reach by snowshoe or touring skis, which would actually be great if Canada adopted a European attitude about the number of paid vacation days; until we have a minimum of four weeks paid vacation, though, sometimes you have to take the fastest way up.
Although after our short conversation I was starting to suspect Dustin was actually a responsible adult, I still half hoped that the veneer would crack, and I'd be able to justify a few of my long-held stereotypes about sleds and the riders that love them. I sort of figured we might do a few shots of rye, then go chase down some moose in the backwoods before tearing up the side of a mountain, high-marking and causing an avalanche rescue. However, when we pulled over to radio up the forest service road to inform logging trucks we were on the road, the first crack appeared in my previous image of outlaw 'slednecks'.
Then we pulled off into a parking lot and I was instructed on the basics of how to use an avalanche beacon and probe. We both wore beacons and carried probes and shovels, along with the requisite helmets. Dustin also brought along a satellite phone, despite the relatively low avalanche warning for the area (and the fact that we wouldn't be going anywhere near the type of terrain where avalanches occur). Following that was a quick lesson on the machine – how to start it up, how to stop, the emergency kill switch, and of course, turn and stop signals.
“The industry is becoming more and more safety oriented,” Dustin mentioned partway through the saftey orientation.
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| Dustin showing proper carving technique. |
Just when I feared we were being entirely too responsible, it was time to hit the trail. Here's where another stereotype I'd held was knocked back to reality – we would be riding on established snowmobile trails, the vast majority of which are actually forestry and mining service roads. So I guess sledders don't go running around in the bush wherever they feel like it during the summer clearcutting their own trails after all. And speaking of clearcutting, when it came time to play around in the powder, Dustin said he can find some in clearcut areas, avoiding open mountain meadows.
“I can still find some powder in some of the unplanted cut blocks, so we can still have some fun in the deep powder,” he said.
So, away we went, along an out of service forestry road near Pine Creek. I switched on the hand warmers, hit the gas, and...holy crap, this thing can go!
After almost tossing myself off the back, I eased back into it. After a few minutes I sort of had the hang of driving in a relatively straight line. This was way harder than I thought it was going to be. Not only did it require a bit of skill, it was also hard work. Who knew? (I mean aside from a pretty large portion of the Interior News reading audience, that is).
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| View from the driver's seat. I took about two dozen of these photos to get one in focus. |
Dustin stopped every few hundred metres to wait for me to catch up. I asked him at one point if he got tired of waiting for me to catch up. He assured me I was actually doing really well for a first-timer, although I suspect he may have been humouring me. He said he really does enjoy showing new people the ropes, which is probably a good thing considering that's been most of his market so far. His first full tour was a group of four beginners.
“They had a great time. I was trying to teach them how to carve in the powder, and one of them was starting to get the hang of it,” he said.
Unlike yours truly. At the first real bit of 'terrain' – what seemed in the deep snow like a creek crossing – I got my machine stuck pointing 45° into the air, and managed to toss myself off the side of the sled in the process, landing in powder up to my stomach.
But I have to tell you, even after later getting stuck in a ditch for half a kilometre – it took almost a dozen tries to pop over the edge and back onto the main trail – it was still fun.
Which brings me back to the conflicted feeling I mentioned earlier. Because despite claims that sleds are up to 90% quieter than they were a quarter century ago, they still make a lot of noise in the backcountry, particularly if you're not the person driving one. The mostly two stroke engines still spew out more pollution than they could. And despite the growing number of safe, responsible riders, there are still a few idiots out there getting drunk and crashing into things at high speed.
But – and this is a big, capital 'B' But – they're so...much...fun.
I'm not about to run out a buy a 2011 machine, a trailer, a helmet and a gas can. But once or twice a year, riding a machine for an afternoon isn't going to make things much worse than they already are. The very existence of 7.5 billion humans is a threat to the planet, so in the name of a good time, I think I might just have to make an occasional exception. I think snowmobiles might just have to be one of those 'everything in moderation' things for me.
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| Me managing to turn a corner at relatively low speed. Photo by Dustin Harvey. |
