The Decline of Jasper’s Backcountry Part 2: Decrepit Trails

  1. NORTH BOUNDARY—185 km. Elev. gain 1055 m. Max. elev. 2019 m. Trailheads are at Celestine Lake parking lot (limited access). 53 km from Jasper townsite, and at Mount Robson service area, 88 km west on Highway 16. The trail is well marked and all major river crossings are bridged. A variety of side trips are possible. Some horse traffic.—Jasper National Park trail information summary, 1985

North Boundary 179 km. Elevation gain: 2688 m and loss: 3122 m, from Celestine Road to Berg Lake trailhead. Maximum elevation: 2019 m. North Boundary country possesses its own unique brand of beauty – a wilderness of broad valleys and distant views that is inhabited by an array of wildlife. The trail is rugged in places although most major river crossings are bridged. Some horse traffic. Very remote, trail is maintained infrequently.—Jasper National Park backcountry guide, 2012

The North Boundary Trail
159 km one way | 7-10 days | Dogs permitted | Horses permitted | No bikes
The North Boundary trail is a remote wilderness route, recommended for users with significant backcountry skills and experience. Highlights include Snake Indian Pass and the headwaters of two major park rivers; the Snake Indian River and the Smoky River. Some major rivers are not bridged. Fords can be dangerous. Rivers can be impassable during times of high water. This trail is best travelled in later season.—Jasper National Park backcountry trip ideas guide, March 2025

How do trails get worse? Money. Bridges go out, tracks slide away and are never replaced, trees fall that are never cut, brush grows and hides the path away. Jasper’s backcountry trails are getting worse. But what does that mean?

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Canada by Rail Part 2: Montreal to Halifax on the Ocean

VIA Rail’s The Ocean is the keystone of Canadian railroading history. People think of the CPR, the Last Spike, and the Canadian, but that’s the second half of the story. The CPR brought British Columbia into Confederation, whereas the Ocean‘s route made Confederation happen in the first place.

The Intercolonial Railway, linking New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and the Canadas, was so important it was written into the British North America Act, 1867: Canada’s original constitution. The Atlantic colonies struggled to lay rails that, to the provinces of Canada, represented a vital link from the port of Halifax, the only major port in British North America accessible by ship all year round. These were the dangerous years following the American Civil War, when the Americans had crushing military superiority, expansionist ideas, and protectionist trade policies, while Canadians had good reason to think England could counterbalance that. The Atlantic wanted to link their rails and dilute their debt in Canada’s greater population; Canada wanted an all-red route for Imperial troops to Ontario and Quebec. No agreement should have been more natural, and it says something about the era that it actually worked out.

It cuts against the grain for a westerner to admit it but the Intercolonial Railway created the country. The Canadian Pacific merely expanded it. The Ocean follows nearly all the old Intercolonial route, now owned (of course) by Canadian National, and has since the first Ocean Limited set off in July 1904.

Yet it is, in every other way, a less historic train. Most carriages are from the 1990s, positively new for us, and it’s old without feeling historic; frankly, it’s shabby. The Ocean is a real transport link, the only practical overland transit between the Laurentian corridor and the Atlantic, but it survives because, when VIA’s budget was slashed, it served more valuable swing ridings than its sister cutting through Maine.

While it remains an interesting, beautiful experience (and, as a one-night trip, reasonable for even the ordinary person), it is relatively low on soul. Also time, so this post is a lot shorter than the last.

The Decline of Jasper’s Backcountry Part 1: Departed Trails

Jasper National Park’s backcountry has never been more popular, and never harder to enjoy.

Backcountry trails in the park were at their height in the 1980s and 1990s. Usage was relatively low compared to the decades both before and since, but the trail network was over a third larger and generally in better shape. There was literally a hundred bridges, and it is said, perhaps exaggeratedly, that you could hike a hundred miles without getting your feet wet. Trails now considered adventurous low-water-season hikes were in regular use all summer, and the backcountry camper could have as much, or at little, privacy and challenge as he wanted.

Although Parks Canada hems, haws, and chooses their data carefully when the subject comes up, the fact is that more people than ever are using fewer backcountry trails. To be sure, backcountry campers are by-and-large white and by-and-large spend little money in town except at the bar, so are unfashionable visitors, but we are in an unprecedented boom of backcountry popularity which the park is content to treat with, at best, benign neglect.

Parks Canada today documents about 775km of trails relevant to the backcountry hiker. This is the largest Jasper’s official backcountry trail network has been in over a decade, because the 47.7km Maligne Pass trail was formally re-opened, not that it helps any. Apart from Skyline, those kilometers are less accessible to horse and hiker than they were before. The Tonquin Valley has been closed to horses and lost its lodges and even the Brazeau Loop, one of the few trails Jasper cares about, has been for serious hikers only since a bridge went out in 2022.

What does this really mean? A couple of wonderful projects, the Parks Canada History Archive and the Canadian Backcountry Trails Preservation Society, have archived what Jasper National Park’s backcountry used to look like. It’s gotten a lot worse. Everyone who’s been there knows that. But it’s also gotten a lot smaller.

Canada by Rail Part 1: Vancouver to Toronto on the Canadian

It’s not that VIA Rail is good. That would mean high speed, high reliability, high frequency, and low cost. VIA Rail is slower, less reliable, less frequent, and more expensive than, literally, the bus.

It also cost the Canadian taxpayer $773 million in 2023 to carry 4.1 million passengers (their most recent annual report). That’s a drop in the bucket, or perhaps a drop in the budget, compared to the billions the federal government wastes every year, but suffice to say it doesn’t compare well to Amtrak. You don’t want to lose efficiency contests to Amtrak. In a serious country, VIA Rail could easily do more with less, pleasing the many Canadians who want to go by train and hurting nobody except us foamers.

However, when an American visits Canada and rides VIA Rail, he is pleased, even when the train is eight hours late. Easy for him to say, he doesn’t pay our taxes, but Canadians don’t feel the same way on Amtrak. VIA Rail, the $773 million remittance man of the federal government, too unrewarding to nurture and too popular to eliminate, has got character. It places elegant slow travel within reach of the middle class. And since we do not live in a serious country, for most of us the choice is not between “current bad VIA” and “hypothetical efficient VIA,” but between “current bad VIA” and no service at all.

VIA is not good, but it is nice. Recently I got to cross Canada by train, starting with the Canadian from Vancouver to Toronto. It was very late most of the time and I sampled many VIA inconveniences. It was still very nice, and not as a “subsidized cruise ship on land” which would be, let’s face it, a waste. In fact, one of the most worthwhile VIA complaints is how hard it is to see whether the niceness is what’s costing all the money.