Kissinger Lake

Vancouver Island Backroad Mapbook Fouth Edition - Map 9 A1
Atlas of Canada Link: Kissinger Lake
Latitude/Longitude:
Degrees, Minutes, Seconds: 48° 55' 15" N 124° 28' 53" W
Decimal Degrees: 48.921° N 124.481° W
UTM Coordinates: 10U 391470 5419726
Topographic Map Sheet Number: 092C16

Trip Date: June 30, 2009

In the canoe beside me two men cooperate. Patient, they talk out their preferences, a way to paddle together, a civilization of two. I am in a single, responsible only for myself, able to watch human friendship set against a precedent beauty.

Right now they paddle along a shoreline of giant broad leaf maples, the sun illuminating several layers of canopy, leaves like mirrors turning the light away from the dark under story, only the greens getting through, so that even the death of rotten wood and humus is coloured the shade of deep green water. The sun also breaks through to patch the lake with ragged beams through which the paddlers go, paddles glinting brightly on the forward swing.

As is often the case at times like these I think about all this matter bathed in the filtered fission energy that powered out from our very own star. This matter itself the result of ancient cataclysmic star deaths, all those years ago, worked on by time and sunlight, scaled into beings that can balance inside a curving hull. Also, the distant and ancient breath of stars that moved relentlessly through nothing, till it ended abruptly at something, this ball of coagulated earth.

And on the ball, moving like a plague, we engineer a sickness for our grandchildren, a hurdle too high for most animals, no matter how frantically they leap. A rain of bees drops off the grid, a storm of frogs thunders out of existence, the cascade of death like Della falls, spectacular in it's long streak upon the dark stone of history. Only a few of us turn to look, only the odd cocked ear, only a rusty stain of inquisitive sadness on the soul of a few sunburned biologists and we children of privilege. For the majority of us humans existence is a dust of dried sweat and grime to salt our dwellings at the end of a long hard day in the sun. Salt and dust. What we are made of, what we make of things.

Who moves like the moon upon the night, who glides like mist upon a lake, who rides like clouds across a crystal tarn? Not me. Not us. We go down on things, violent scavengers, cunning as knives. And each blow releases from us a larynx keened cry, saddle shinny and brittle as glass, the cry of conscious paradox. What we must do to live is an exquisite sacrifice; we must die a little with each bite we take. Today, for me, it is a swath of forest beyond this happy mere. Today for me it is salty tears for the gaps in that forest.

One of the paddlers with me is a leader in environmentally responsibility. Car poor, bike powered, vegetarian, energy efficient, example to me and others, his values pounding out of him like heartbeats. He has ridden his bike around Cowichan Lake. Not something I would ever do. The other paddler, like me, makes a sincere effort. Middle class piety from our deepest hearts. I felt our good intentions like fellowship as we bounced from pot hole to pot hole in my 4 wheel drive to get to this oasis of calm. Burned fossil fuel mixes with dust along the logging road that leads to Kissinger Lake. A wake of carbon to get to the pristine nature we long to see before it is gone.
On the way here we passed three logging trucks, two with old growth trees filling their trailers. Yes they are still cutting away at the 20% of old growth left on the island. Only 110 hectares of protected Douglas-fir forest remain on the east coast of Vancouver Island, while just two percent have been set aside as federal, provincial and regional parks. It's open season on the rest. According to the Western Canada Wilderness Committee, BC Government studies estimate that the current level of cutting is 30 percent above sustainability. The knives of the forest companies spin on chains. Shouts of "timber" echo across each section cut. The forest peels away like the skin of a fruit under the thumb of hungry homo sapiens. Logs from private land are sent away for someone else to use. On Vancouver Island we are mainly cutters now, working for overlords. Even pulp is mostly made elsewhere. Cutters and scavengers caked in salt and saw dust. Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was.

Two dragon flies collide above me; distract me with their paper crinkling sounds, like paper swords clashing. This particular variety is birdlike with their wing patches and silvery bodies. Damsel flies, two kinds, sway above my gunwales, deciding to land or not. A rough skinned newt surfaces, then begins her lazy decent to the bottom again. I photograph a floating garden, this one featuring a central strand of Sticky False Asphodel and a fringe of Marsh Cinquefoil and the insect eating Sundew, drops of nectar glistening in the sun.

Cowichan Valley Lakes

Vancouver Island Backroad Mapbook - Maps 9 and 10

Google Earth: Type in Cowichan Lake and zoom out a bit
Mayo Lake Latitude: 48°48'8.89"N by longitude: 123°57'15.06"W
Beaver Lake Latitude: 48°48'45.75"N by longitude: 124° 4'45.54"W
Mesachie Lake Latitude: 48°48'42.39"N by longitude: 124° 6'32.37"W
Bear Lake Latitude: 48°48'52.75"N by longitude: 124° 7'41.78"W
Kissinger Lake Latitude: 48°55'6.90"N by longitude: 124°28'46.76"W

Trip Date: December 12, 2007

After a late breakfast I headed south from Nanaimo to the Cowichan Valley to scout out six different bodies of water for paddling.

The first stop was Mayo Lake located on map 10 at D3. Reports indicated that it was a beautiful little lake suitable for paddling and I found the lake on Mayo Road just off of Old Cowichan Lake Road. The lake was partially iced over and smaller than I expected. The western section of the lake which appears on the map to be open water is now filled with vegetation. Great place to sit and eat your lunch, but not large enough to paddle, even for me.

From Mayo Lake I drove up the Old Cowichan Lake Road, through Cowinchan Lake municipality, observing the towns lovely waterfront, and on to the Beaver Lake turn off. The only access road to this lake takes you to a private campground with signs indicating access for guests only.

I continued on to Mesachie Lake (Map 9 A3), which is a pretty little lake right beside the South Shore Road.



The lake is dominated by Camp Imadene which occupies a peninsula on the south shore. It would be possible to drop a featherlight canoe into the lake from the South Shore Road, but not comfortably, there is a fairly steep bank from the road down to the lake.

I continued past Camp Imadene and turned right down the Mesachie Lake village’s main street, looking for an alternative access to the lake. There did not seem to be one. I crossed a small bridge that spans the creek that runs between Mesachie and Bear lakes, and looked at the creek carefully. It may be possible to paddle between Bear and Mesachie Lake along this water way.

I then turned around, and drove to the public beach and boat ramp on Bear Lake. Several empty boat trailers suggested that boaters were on the lake, but I could not see them anywhere.
The picturesque public wharf gives a good view of the entire lake. I later examined the lake on Google Earth and discovered that a wide channel connects Bear to Cowichan Lake, so I suspect the absent boaters were out on Cowichan Lake.

The water of Bear Lake was high and muddy and not inviting, so I decided to continue on along the south side of Cowichan Lake to Kissinger Lake. I had never driven the South Shore Road before so took my time, consulting the map at several intersections. The road turns to gravel just past Honey Moon Bay but it is an exceptionally good surface and I drove along at 70 km/hour on the good sections. I stopped the vehicle on a height of ground across from Youbou. The lake was calm and the winter afternoon light soft on the distant hamlet.
I made a wrong turn past Nixon Creek and went left (South) up the Caycuse Main. It was a fortuitous error as the valley contains Nixon Creek and was beautiful. Large Broad Leaf Maple trees are covered in moss and I stopped the vehicle near a bend in the creek to examine a large heap of logs recently deposited at a curve in the channel. Sand and stones were mixed in with the wood detritus so the creek must have really been thundering when it deposited these logs. Clearly this valley gets a lot of rain and subsequent run off.

Caycus Main


Nixon Creek


North End of Cowichan Lake

I turned the vehicle around and headed back to the intersection where I made the error and headed on to the end of Cowichan Lake and stopped to take a few photos of the Heather Campsite across the water from the boat launch. Smoke and RVs indicated that people were there.

The map (9 A1) indicates that access to Kissinger Lake is off the Nitinat Main and I inadvertently passed the Nitinat Main and turned left instead at the North Shore Road intersection. The Mapbook has a dashed line where this road continues away from Cowichan Lake, so I didn't immediately realize I was on the wrong road. I guess the old the road has been re-activated.

I drove for some way along this road into an area of active logging, turned right in what I thought was the direction of the lake but ended up on an old road that was paved! This must have been the Nitinat River Road, but why it is paved, I’m not sure.

I backtracked, got my bearings, and found the Kissinger Lake Recreation Area, which had a gate, but the gate was open. A large sign said the gate closes at 8:00 pm, so I drove through the campsites and found the lake.

A group of fellows in their twenties had a fire going in an iron pit on the rocky bank overlooking the lake. I chatted with one fellow who informed me that they had been doing a little fishing, but only caught two small trout which they threw back.

He told me they were leaving, and with good cheer they load their ATVs on three large trucks and roared off leaving me with their dwindling fire.

The lake shore was picturesque, with a little road running right up to the edge of the water and curving in a loop to go back to the campground.

There was a little dock and two small sandy/muddy beaches on either side. Several Alders stood at the lake shore and several more shaded the picnic area on the small hill. The lake’s prominent island was attracting the last rays of light off to the left (see photo).

Red stemmed bushes; willows maybe, lined the shore on the left side, and evergreens on the right.


I took down my canoe, launched, and coasted out onto the glassy surface.

The smoke from the remains of the fire drifted to mingle with a mist rising from the lake surface and I listened to a grader working somewhere in the distance, the changing pitch of the engine and the odd clunkof rock and metal. I could see my breath in the dying light.

A fish broke the surface somewhere beside me and I watched the trees lose color on the shore. By 6:00 it was too dark to see much so I put on my head light and paddled back.

Kissinger Lake is completely ringed by logging roads now, and active logging has left a large raw area to the west of the lake. None of this is visible from the water, however, because the loggers have left a band of trees that give the illusion that all is well.

Back on the road again, I passed two large trucks, burly young men grinning at my little Tracker and canoe.

I imagined what the place would be like in the summer and decided that I probably should not find out. Better to be somewhere a little less utilized at that time of year.

© Richard R. Powell 2008