Mountaineering with a Pair of Toyotas

At first, there was awe. I had rounded a bend on the Yellowhead Highway just north of Valemount, B.C., when the geological monolith presented itself, reaching toward the heavens. Canoe Mountain – the peak we were meant to climb – was still 20 kilometres away, but the awe soon shifted to mild concern, then dread. After months of planning and having driven more than 4,000 km the preceding few days, the sight of so much snow gave cause for considerable worry. 

Roughly 320 km northeast of Kamloops, Valemount is walled in by the Rocky, Monashee, and Cariboo mountain ranges. It’s become an adventurist’s playground with the local pizza and burger joints full of rugged folk who have just finished their latest gnarly mountain biking descent or whitewater paddling excursion. To the south of town, Canoe Mountain sits with its rounded hump facing west and a summit of 2,650 metres (8,698 feet). At that elevation, it’s nowhere near the tallest peak in the region, but it’s said to be the greatest altitude one can drive in Canada. My brother and I had just travelled from Toyota’s Toronto headquarters in a new Land Cruiser and Tacoma Trailhunter and were eager to test their mettle on a proper adventure.

The Plan

Scheming began in mid-March. The internet proclaimed Canoe Mountain to be the highest navigable peak in Canada thanks to an access road put in decades ago where a weather station and communications tower were installed. Since then, nature has worked hard to heal the pathway carved across her face, as erosion has exposed the rocky bones beneath the former road’s surface. Vegetation is trying to fill in the rest. Local ATVers occasionally trek up Canoe during the area’s fairly brief summer, but when questioned about the prospect of getting some new trucks to the top, the responses were vague and somewhat foreboding.

“It used to be passable with a good 4x4, although the majority of the trail is washed out of all fines (sandy surface), so it’s comprised of very sharp rocks and is extremely rough,” we were told.

Our initial thought to tackle the climb at the end of May was also stymied, as the top was expected to be snowed in, so we pushed the trip off to the end of June, presuming that after a mild winter, it would be plenty late enough to get the job done. And without any local responses to my requests for status updates in mid-June, we decided to just go for it. It wasn’t lost on us that a spring wash-out or downed evergreens could ruin the adventure within the first few hundred metres if luck wasn’t on our side.

The Climb

Approaching the trailhead, we all felt the weight of that snow draped over all the local mountains. Still, we were confident enough, at least in the abilities of the trucks, to give it a go and see how far we could make it. We were equipped with a fairly extensive kit with recovery straps, shackles, traction aids, saws, axes, food, water, sleeping bags, and tents should we get stuck and need to spend the night or two. 

Plus, Canoe isn’t Everest, and the trail to the top is only 12 or so kilometres long, so if all went well, the trek shouldn’t take more than a few hours, even at a careful pace. 

The first few kilometres proved to be reassuringly easy. The path was in good shape for the most part, and those vicious, tire-shredding rocks we were warned about seemed relatively few and far between. Stopping occasionally for photos, the nastiest thing we encountered were the voracious mosquitos munching on us. 

A third of the way up, the rocks became more prevalent and our pace slowed somewhat. You wouldn’t take a Corolla here, but neither truck struggled, so we climbed onward as the trees got smaller and the vistas got bigger, eventually stopping at a spot the locals call the “golf course” thanks to grassy fairways stretching down the slope. The resident marmots expressed their displeasure about our arrival to their peers.

The Trucks

Toyota’s media relations folks should be commended (or committed) for willingly handing over the keys to a Tacoma Trailhunter and Land Cruiser First Edition to a couple of suburban Ontario dads determined to become B.C. mountain men. Mind you, Toyota’s trucks have a reputation for durability in the face of often ridiculously abusive scenarios. I once witnessed an overheating Land Cruiser in the Djibouti desert be cooled by a driver who simply threw a bucket of water on the engine, then got back in and drove into the horizon. 

Even still, both trucks were pre-production models, which meant that while each has gone through zillions of kilometres of development testing around the world, they haven’t yet been proven in owners’ hands for years the way, say, past Land Cruiser and Tacoma models have. 

The drive from Ontario to British Columbia was uneventful for both trucks that unsurprisingly managed the long slog while offering a comfortable and well-equipped place for my brother and I to while away the hours. Because of the threat of sharp rocks on the trail, Toyota obliged our request to fit the Land Cruiser with BF Goodrich K02 all-terrain tires that would be less susceptible to puncture than the street-oriented tires the truck comes shipped with. In what’s otherwise an impressive off-road-ready package, that the Land Cruiser isn’t offered with a proper set of tires is disappointing. 

Meanwhile, the Tacoma Trailhunter comes out of the box ready to, well, hunt trails. Its suspension bits from Australian company Old Man Emu help the Taco withstand some serious walloping, and the truck’s underside is well-protected with skid plates should a driver be a little too rambunctious over some of the larger rocks. The front sway bar can be disconnected to allow for greater articulation, and in four-wheel-drive low-gear, the rear differential can be locked for better traction during slippery climbs. At one point on a sandy obstacle, that rear locker meant the difference between making it up and over versus sitting and spinning the tires.

The Land Cruiser’s suspension isn’t as robust as the Trailhunter’s and its ground clearance isn’t as great, which meant careful tire placement over medium-sized rocks and around large ones was needed to avoid the nasty sound of metal on granite. Thankfully, the First Edition trim comes with decent under-side protection, too, which did come in useful on a few occasions. Better still, the Land Cruiser’s shorter wheelbase and overall length meant it was much easier to manoeuvre on tighter sections than the long Tacoma. Its full-time all-wheel-drive system meant it effortlessly managed loose surfaces, and both trucks offered outstanding throttle control in 4-Lo, enabling very careful inputs to get the trucks over the few particularly dicey sections.

The Summit

Shortly after the “golf course,” snow appeared along shady parts of the trail. Then, above the treeline and more than 2,000 metres of elevation, the moon-like landscape gave way to patches of the deepest snow I’d seen all year, let alone during the Summer Solstice.

The path switched back and forth, climbing progressively up the western face, passing the plateau with the weather station and revealing the communications tower at the top not far above. The rocky part of the trail, barely wider than our single-file trucks, grew narrower as the glacial blanket encroached increasingly over the path. 

Soon, parts of the trail were entirely covered in crunchy, icy snow, hub-deep on the trucks. Switching drive modes to Snow, locking differentials and sheer determination helped us clamour another hundred metres or so up, churning away. 

More throttle was called on to keep the momentum up, especially as the pitch increased, yet forward pace slowed. The trucks willfully responded to additional requests of More Throttle! but ultimately self-preservation kicked in as the trucks frequently kicked their tail-ends out perilously close to the edge of the trail that was made of loose rock that could give way at any point.

Not wanting to call Toyota with news that we’d just barrel-rolled a Land Cruiser halfway down a mountain, we reluctantly admitted our defeat and solemnly retreated down the mountain. The next day, we sought out tire chains to try again, but with none available to fit our trucks, our second attempt up Canoe netted us only another 50 metres or so further up the slope than the day before.

Having anticipated the journey for so long and travelled so far to attempt it, we were gutted to have gotten so close – within a couple hundred metres – of the top. At the rate the snow was melting, another week later could very well have enabled the full climb, but our time in B.C. was up with responsibilities in Ontario beckoning our return. Even still, the enjoyment of attempting an adventure to a place I’d never been, seeing the incredible views we saw, and having quality time with my brother and friends made the journey an unforgettable one. 

The trucks, of course, performed flawlessly, suggesting that these new Toyotas seem poised to continue on the company’s reputation for building capable and durable trucks suited to all sorts of adventures.

Someday, I’ll make it back for a third attempt up Canoe Mountain, and when I do, it’ll be in July.