After a few hefty weeks of rubbing elbows with locals and exploring BC’s way-lesser-known mountains, we’re breaking the rules and blowing up the spots…Hold my beer.
words & photography :: Abby Cooper
There’s an unspoken code of silence in the outdoor world: If you find a really good zone, you don’t talk specifics, you don’t post, you don’t geotag and you definitely don’t write an article about it.
But some secrets are just too good to keep. And honestly? The northeastern region of BC has been hoarding gold.
One nice part about blowing up a spot is that you may as well voice an unpopular opinion at the same time: That network of resource extraction roads from forestry, mining and gas? A gift. A golden gift for recreational access. Tumbler Ridge has mining and forestry roads everywhere, aka easy access—we can drive to the alpine in spots. In many cases (up north and down south), a hiking trail or bike route wouldn’t exist without the access those industry roads provide. And we’re here for it.
We kicked things off at the Tumbler Ridge UNESCO Global Geopark, a full-blown prehistoric playground where dinosaurs used to party—and one of the only places you can walk up and touch fossilized trackways (which is the fancy term for consecutive dinosaur footprints). Fun fact: One of the Geopark’s main dinosaur trackways (they have ten) was discovered by two kids floating the river in 2000. Just kids being kids, and it led to a globally significant scientific discovery. That’s how wild the north can be.
Packing list: Bring bikes, boots, carefree attitudes, big trucks and snack-heavy day packs.
Agenda: Take a multi-day blitz through Tumbler Ridge, Mackenzie, Dawson Creek, the Northern Rockies and a few detours that made us question everything we thought we knew about BC.
Crew: Invite any curious minds who like hiking, mountain biking and uncrowded adventures, but make a point to make new friends and find scattered pals en route.
Hot tip: Pack chicken wire for the remote trailheads—porcupines think brake lines are gourmet. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.
But it’s not all history and geology. Tumbler Ridge sits in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and the surrounding region is littered with waterfalls, mossy corridors and hoodoo-ridden landscapes that look like nature’s take on a punk rock album cover. (The Shipyard-Titanic trail is like Stonehenge with a more chaotic BC vibe.) There are too many hiking options to list, even some climbing/bouldering. This place is easy-access alpine heaven.
And is it really a true northern BC trip if you don’t make a friend with a pirate-themed jet boat? Shout out to Randy at Wild River Adventure Tours for ripping us up to see the 70-metre Kinuseo Falls in Monkman Provincial Park up close. They say the negative ions put into the air from the waterfall smashing into the rocks will cure all that ails you. Maybe so, but it definitely stoked us up to go mountain biking.
The Tumbler Ridge mountain bike scene is young and promising—flowy, well-built, full of character and not even the slightest bit busy. Trail names inspired by bad haircuts (Rat Tail forever) hint at a thriving crew of local builders ready for more bad haircuts and more good times.
Notably, the cliquey snobbishness of more populated (southern) bike cultures doesn’t exist up north. No one cares what gear you brought, and trails are often multi-use—hike ‘em, bike ‘em, even moto them if you’ve got the nerve. However you do it, you probably won’t see another soul. Introvert paradise.
Three hours of driving isn’t bad with the big-mountain views at Pine Pass, fresh cinnamon buns at Azouzetta Lake Lodge (stop or you’ll regret it) and swimmable upper pool at Bijoux Falls. We’re heading west to blow up the next spot: Mackenzie, BC.
However you do it, you probably won’t see another soul. Introvert paradise.
Best known among the winter crowd as home to the ski resort Powder King, Mackenzie—traditionally a forestry driven region offers mountain bikers a gentle transition from Jurassic Park vibes to tacky, singletrack heaven. The trails are smooth, as if lovingly carved with a butter knife and a vision. Alpine shuttle laps are also a thing (bless those roads), and golden-hour rides with Morfee Lake at your feet? Straight-up postcard. Up here in the north, golden hour comes later and feels personal. The setting sun feels like Mother Nature’s rewarding us for venturing off the beaten path.
Hello, Dawson Creek! Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway and a town built on grit, highway lore and frontier spirit. Don’t get it confused with that cheesy TV show of the past—this Dawson Creek is still cool in that rough-around-the-edges, tell-it-like-it-is kind of way. Hang out at Hug a Mug’s Coffee House long enough and someone will hit you with a story from the early days—raw, unfiltered and usually about greed and gold hunting gone wrong.
Meanwhile, there’s a new kind of gold to be found in those hills. Bear Mountain, the local ski slope, is quietly transforming into a grassroots bike zone with raw and fun trails and a bright future. It’s definitely early, but the locals are building something real. And they’re properly celebrating it with beers at Post & Row Brewing Co. after the tools are put down.
If this road trip were a movie, the Northern Rockies would be the third-act montage—an endless sea of peaks, glistening lakes and wilderness. A good 4.5-hour drive from Dawson Creek, Fort Nelson is the hub here—a small but mighty community shaped by fur trading, forestry and the legendary Alaska Highway. Hot tip for a hot plate: Mow down at Triple G Hideaway and pop into the nearby museum for some regional backstory before venturing out into mountains of epic proportions.
We’re based out of Northern Rockies Lodge on Muncho Lake, which feels borderline unfair in its perfection. Float plane access? Check. Hikes from the cabin door? Check. Fishing adventures so scenic as to seem AI-generated? Triple check. Muncho’s jade-green water is ridiculous, and watching float planes soaring over glacier-cut peaks is a memory that, once experienced, will live rent-free in your head forever.
Most of the humans in this area are retirees towing RVs to Alaska. They seem happy to cruise past pure adventure gold en route to whatever goals they have. For us, it’s almost absurdly unpopulated and there’s more wildlife around than people. Bison, mountain goats, Dall sheep, grizzlies, black bears and caribou gazed curiously as we hike ridgelines, soak in hot springs and go fully, real-deal, unplugged. Phones don’t work here (no bars, no pings!) so we’re left with our thoughts—the good times behind us and the stilllong list of adventure options ahead.
Time to ponder brings us back to the beginning: Are we breaking the code? Should we really be writing about places like this? Maybe, maybe not. Everyone agrees—locals, visitors, us—that northern BC doesn’t need or want 10,000 influencers in matching puffer vests. Instead, this is a region for curious, savvy and respectful weirdos who are down for mud, sweat and maybe some porcupine-induced car repairs. So if you’re reading this and already checking Google Maps—good. Take the trip. Go. Just promise us you’ll leave it better than you found it.
These spots are not in danger of being blown out, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be respected and cared for.
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