Backcountry hike • July 5–6, 2024

Tonquin Valley

Tonquin Valley is one of those hikes that feels easy on paper but huge in your memory. It is roughly 18–20 km one way to the valley, and depending on where you camp or wander, the total round trip can land around 35–40 km. We did it in two days, with a taxi drop at the trailhead and a parked car waiting at the finish, and it became one of the most beautiful and chaotic mountain trips we’ve ever done.

We started this trip with that perfect kind of confidence that comes before a mountain adventure has a chance to teach you humility. The weather was sunny, the trail felt alive, and the whole valley looked like a postcard. We had planned to camp near the start of the MacCarib area, but the pace was good and the energy was better, so before long we were already pushing toward Portal instead of stopping where we originally meant to.

That was the first bright, stupidly optimistic sign: we were moving so well that we basically outran the plan. By the time the sun started sliding lower, we were still smiling, still climbing, still convinced the day belonged to us. We had the whole valley in front of us, the peaks glowing warm and golden, and the kind of light that makes every step feel cinematic.

Then came the part that turned the trip from “beautiful day hike” into “we will never forget this.” When night fell, the trail changed. The water level rose, the ground turned swampy, and there were stretches where crossing felt less like hiking and more like negotiating with the terrain itself. We were wet, tired, and a little stunned by how quickly the trail transformed into something messy and difficult. By the end of the night, we were no longer trying to finish the route in style — we were just trying to get through it.

“We thought we were just doing a beautiful two-day hike. Somewhere between the valley and the dark, it became a story about endurance, weather, and the kind of luck that only feels good after it’s over.”

Day 1 — bright skies, long walking, and a trail that changed shape after sunset

The first day was everything we wanted from the hike. We were out early, the mountain light was unreal, and we were moving at the kind of pace that makes you feel unstoppable. It was exactly the kind of day that makes you want to take ten more photos every time the scenery changes.

Trail entrance area with mountain view — The first stretch of the hike: clear sky, fresh legs, and zero suspicion that the weather would turn.

Hiker standing beside wild mountain scenery — Bright, open valley views and the feeling that this hike was going to be unforgettable for all the right reasons.

Mountain hike trail and landscape — By the afternoon, the valley had gone from beautiful to cinematic. Every turn gave us another incredible view.

Forest trail with mountain panorama — We were still smiling, still moving, and still convinced we’d reach camp on time.

Late day view of mountains and lake — Late-day light made the whole valley glow. This was the exact kind of place that makes you forget your phone is still in your pocket.

Nightfall — when the river rose and the trail became a problem

We were due for a good night of sleep, but the mountain had other ideas. Once it got dark, the weather turned heavy and the trail’s water crossings were no longer manageable. The water level had climbed, the ground was swampy, and there were sections we simply could not cross cleanly. It wasn’t dramatic in a cinematic way — it was more like the land itself had changed shape in front of us.

That’s when we found the backcountry lodge, a shelter that saved the night and probably the whole mood of the trip. We were cold, soaked, and tired, but we had a roof, warm shelter, and a small, surreal sense of relief. The rain came down hard, and we sat there for a while grateful to be somewhere dry and not drowning in the valley floor.

Dark mountain silhouette at night in Tonquin Valley — Night over Tonquin Valley: the mountains went dark, the weather turned rough, and the whole day felt very different from the one we started.

Backcountry hut in the early morning — Morning found us grateful, damp, and unexpectedly lucky. The lodge gave us exactly what we needed to regroup.

Hiker in front of a log cabin shelter — We weren’t at the campsite we had planned, but we were alive, dry, and starting to believe the trip might still end beautifully.

Day 2 — the valley looked like a painting

We woke up to a completely different mood. The rain had passed, the sky was bright, and the whole valley looked somehow sharper, cleaner, and even more alive than it had before. We got a proper breakfast, took it all in, and headed out on a beautiful morning walk through the forest and meadows. It felt like the trail was apologizing for the night before.

We did not linger on the idea of “camping at Portal.” We had made it there early enough that it no longer made sense to stop. We just kept going, and the day unfolded around us in the best way possible. Strong views, easy hiking, plenty of mountain air, and the satisfaction of finishing a route that had initially looked simple but left a much bigger impression than expected.

Beautiful mountain scenery with clouds and sunlight — Somehow the next morning looked even better than the first. The valley felt fresh, open, and full of possibility.

Mountain landscape and trails after the storm — Blue sky, soft clouds, and the kind of mountain view that makes you forget every wet moment from the night before.

Wide scenic mountain panorama — We kept going and finished the hike with huge views behind us and a sense that we’d gotten the best of both worlds: adventure and reward.

Sarah and Nico together in front of Tonquin Valley mountain panorama — Final trail photo: a little tired, a lot happy, and very much in love with the place.

Photo journal

First photos of the Tonquin Valley hike — We started the hike full of optimism and not nearly enough respect for the weather.

Trail and valley landscape — The valley was wide open and the sun was doing exactly what we wanted it to do.

Mountain valley with trees and trail — Everything felt grand and easy in the mid-afternoon light.

Forest trail in the valley — We weren’t yet thinking about the river or the rain — just the next beautiful viewpoint.

Evening mountain light — The final light of day one made everything feel magical.

Misty mountain night collapse — Night changed the story in a hurry. The trail got rough, the river rose, and our plan changed fast.

Early morning shelter and valley view — The storm gave way to a beautiful sunrise and the kind of relief that feels earned.

Hiker standing at the backcountry lodge — We found a place to hide from the worst of the rain and regrouped before the final push.

Early morning mountain panorama — Breakfast felt extra good after the night we had.

Open valley under blue sky — By morning, the valley looked completely different — brighter, calmer, and full of energy.

Wide mountain landscape with snow and sky — We walked out under one of the clearest, best-looking sky days of the whole trip.

Sarah smiling at Tonquin Valley — We were tired, proud, and absolutely happy to be here.