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Echoes in Stone:
There’s a place tucked into the steep cliffs of Coquihalla Canyon Provincial Park that feels like both a portal and a poem. The Othello Tunnels—carved deep into the granite walls of British Columbia’s backcountry—have long been one of my favourite places to walk, wander, and wonder. But since the devastating Pacific Northwest floods of 2021, the tunnels have been partially closed to the public, and like many who love this trail, I’m anxiously awaiting their full reopening.
More Than a Walkway
More Than a Walkway
On the surface, it’s a breathtaking stroll through a series of tunnels and trestle bridges suspended above roaring water. But to me, it’s also an encounter with history, engineering, and the enduring power of human resilience. Built in 1914 as part of the Kettle Valley Railway, the tunnels are a marvel of precision and vision—proof that beauty and function can coexist, even in the most rugged terrain.
As I walk through the cool, damp air of the tunnels, I often reach out to touch the stone walls. They’re cold, solid, and echo with stories. I think of the trains that once thundered through this narrow canyon, and of the lives behind their construction.
The Forgotten Hands That Built It
The Forgotten Hands That Built It
Many visitors assume Chinese workers built the tunnels, as they did much of the early Canadian rail network. However, after Canada’s Immigration Act of 1906 introduced stricter immigration policies, railway companies turned to other sources of labour. The men who toiled on the Kettle Valley Railway were largely from Central and Eastern Europe. These workers—often referred to as “navvies,” a term from 18th-century Britain for canal laborers—were immigrants, labourers, dreamers, and survivors.
You can read more about this fascinating history in this UBC thesis on the Kettle Valley Railway navvies.
When I touch the rock, I think of them. I wonder what it was like to chip away at these canyon walls, suspended above a churning river, forging a future on uncertain ground. Their stories, too often forgotten, deserve to be remembered with reverence.
The Name and the Echoes of Shakespeare
The Name and the Echoes of Shakespeare
Then there’s the name: Othello. It comes from the nearby train station, named after Shakespeare’s tragic hero. And in a way, the name feels fitting. Themes of ambition, misunderstanding, isolation, and downfall seem to linger in the air. Nature and human drama intertwine here—landslides, floods, and lost names etched into stone. There is beauty, but also sorrow.
Awaiting the Reopening
Awaiting the Reopening
The 2021 floods undermined bridge foundations and destabilized the canyon’s steep slopes, forcing the closure of the park. The loss isn’t just about access—it’s about connection. This place holds history, artistry, and a rare harmony between human effort and natural wonder.
In August 2024, two of the tunnels reopened temporarily before closing again for seasonal reasons and further restoration. I’m hopeful that this summer will bring a full reopening.
Until then, I hold onto the memories: the crunch of gravel beneath my boots, the scent of moss and stone, the dance of light and shadow through the tunnels. And I imagine the stories still nestled in those canyon walls, waiting for us to walk through them once more.
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