river of
No Return
A final descent of the
ashlu
I PILe tHe LASt CreeKer atop an already swollen stack of boats, recklessly exceeding the recommended
load for my rack. A posse of river runners who flood into Squamish every year at this time is packing the last
of their gear into my truck. Across a bed of perennials, my neighbour is washing his Windstar and staring in
disbelief at our macramé of boats. two more vehicles stacked to precarious height pull into our quiet cul-de-sac.
My cell phone is ringing with stragglers looking to get in on the mission. We are heading up the Ashlu today;
this is the last season that the river will be free-flowing. Paddlers from all over the world are now chomping at
the bit to explore the majestic, moss-covered granite canyons of the Ashlu before it is diverted into a tunnel.
fifteen years ago in British Columbia, running rivers and creeks was at the very core of whitewater. entire
mountain ranges of expeditions and adventures were to be had in long pointy dancers, overflows and
Corsicas. Sporting thick neoprene and teal Pro-tec helmets, function far outweighed fashion for the early
pioneers. the thought of giant aerial blunts at Skookumchuck had not crossed their minds. they were too busy
trying to determine the magic amount of flow and gradient that would make possible successful descents easily
accessible from logging roads.
story by BRyAN SMITH
photos by Phil Tifo
 Rapid
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