It is the largest canoe-kayak-only lake in North America. Impressive! But as we found out, paddling Murtle Lake in south-central British Columbia is a Canadian wilderness adventure guaranteed to keep you on your toes.
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Where in the World?
Murtle Lake is located in Wells Gray Provincial Park in the Thompson-Okanagan region of B.C. It was named in 1874 by Joseph Hunter, a member of the Canadian Pacific Railway survey crew, for his hometown in Scotland.
The lake is approximately a half hour drive on a narrow, winding gravel road from Blue River. It is a teeny tiny town about two and a half hours north of Kamloops. In other words, Murtle is out there.
How Big Is Murtle Lake?
The lake is vaguely V-shaped, with north and west arms. Each arm of Murtle Lake is approximately 20 kilometres long. The lake ranges up to three kilometres across in width. Murtle is big, it is remote, and it can definitely be a test of your paddling skills and backcountry knowledge. Game on!
Wilderness Access
We drove in to the canoe launch in Wells Gray Provincial Park from Blue River and didn’t pass another vehicle for the entire 27-kilometre drive.
A small black bear crossed the road in front of us on the way in. A young bull moose ambled down the road in front of us for over a kilometre on the way out. Nature was on display as we bounced along on the road to adventure.
Portage Me In!
Huff, puff – we inflate our new kayaks in the parking lot and snag two of the free-to-use pink canoe carts to wheel them in. Our friends start loading up their gear in the larger, wheeled gear bin available for those renting canoes. Lake access is a 2.5 km portage from the parking lot. Blue, yellow, red, green, purple – we load up the drybags and toss in sleeping bags in waterproof stuffsacks and a collapsible cooler with a few perishables. Balancing loads, we cinch them down and head out.
If you are familiar with the saying “tail wagging the dog”, you’ll appreciate the visual of the “kayak wagging the Megan” as I struggled to keep my boat on the path running downhill and trying to brake. Fortunately, most of the hills were not too steep. Brilliant reddish-orange columbine bloomed above carpets of white bunchberry blossom.
Arriving at the Murtle Lake concession site, stacks of bright red canoes stood waiting patiently for their people. We heard a distant roar and minutes later the parks operators arrived via quad. Waivers signed, our friends began packing their boat. Tea-coloured water in the lagoon was cool but not cold as we stepped around our kayaks to find homes for a rainbow-coloured collection of drybags.
One last-minute trip to the outhouse on the hill and we were off. White puffy clouds dotted the cerulean blue sky. Smiles graced our faces. The operator’s boat – the only power boat allowed on the lake – passed us at the outlet and we rode out the waves before heading on.
Blow Me Over
It was only 11 a.m., but as we approached the entrance to the main lake, the wind began to puff in our faces. Mid-way across the two to two-and-a-half-kilometre crossing, the waves began to turn to whitecaps.
I dug in, wishing I’d been a little more diligent in my weight training. Arms were burning as I fought to keep my tiny vessel pointed in the right direction. The other boats were charging ahead, seemingly without a care. Relief washed over me as we reach the opposite shore. Ducking out of the wind around a point of land near the Henrietta Lake trailhead, we have a quick bite of lunch in the boats.
Going With the Flow
At Sandy Point campground, we pulled out to assess the weather. A tarp was quickly strung as rain started to sprinkle. We watched as a group of three European girls pulled up in a battered red canoe with a hole in its side, not a lifejacket in sight. Chatting, we learned that they had to stop every hour to empty out water. Not so smart.
Rain lifted and the wind died down enough for us to make a move. Within 10 minutes we were off the water again, whitecaps making for a quick retreat. Pulling up on small sandy patch of open shore, we hunker down with snacks and a beer.
The girls pass by and continue on out of sight. A few minutes later, we watch as they beat a hasty retreat back to Sandy Point. An hour or more passes as we sprawl out a mossy lounge in the woods, draping down coats over raingear to hold off the chill. As with any good adventure, this one had its own time schedule and we just had to go with the flow.
The B.C. Parks website notes that “Murtle Lake is a large lake and subject to gusts of strong wind. The lake often becomes choppy in the afternoon. Never try to out-run a storm; beach at the first available opportunity and wait out bad weather.” It was advice we would take to heart over the next few days!
On to Leo Island
Eventually the wind dies down again and off we go, knowing we could turn back if we need to. Wind is down, but it still a long slog across to Fairy Island for me. My arms are done. My guy gives me a little tow for a few hundred metres. I stretch and give heartfelt thanks. Leo Island looms ahead as the wind begins to pick up again. What a relief it was to finally beach and get out of the boat.
No other campers on island, fresh firewood dropped by parks operator, we’re set. Another group of wooden kayaks come by after we set up. “Are we invading your bubble if we camp here?” the leader calls out. We looked at the flotilla of eight boats, most of them doubles. There are three sites on Leo and two are now taken. Ummm…
Tropicana just ahead was completely empty and fortunately they went on. Another red canoe rounded the island before making a quick u-turn and heading over to Cottonwood on the opposite shore.
Caesar salad and pasta for dinner, wine and beer, campfire and big sighs of contentment. Massive grey clouds parted and the sun begins to shine. A spectacular double rainbow across the way has us captivated. Life is golden.
Murtle River Lagoon
Morning saw us paddling out towards Tropicana with no wind – perfect for an hour or so of catch and release fishing before picking up paddles and heading down to the Lagoon.
Par for the course, the wind picked up on our faces for last stretch to outlet. The short stretch into the lagoon flowed strong. Pulling around to the little green tin roofed cabin, we planned to grab a little lunch and maybe hike down to the falls on the Murtle River.
Slap, slap, slap – the mosquitoes came on thick. So thick that we ate lunch out on the water before turning tail and paddling hard up back up the outflow into Murtle again.
What the heck? The wind – in our faces on the way down – had changed direction and was once again slapping us in the faces on the way back. Wave after wave of cold water sloshed over the side of the double kayak. Cold and miserable, it was time to get off the water. We pulled out on a tiny island, set up a tarp and warmed up frozen toes.
Smiles came back and true to course, the wind died off in late afternoon. The wind switched yet again and the anglers fished back to Leo with a light tail wind while I watched osprey fish alongside through the binos, toes happily outstretched in the sunshine drenching the bow of the boat.
Crazy weather you have, Miss Murtle!
Hiking Central Mountain
Day three shone bright and clear. Hiking gear packed in drybags, we paddled less than half an hour over to the Central Mountain trailhead. It was a big hike (1,000 metres elevation, 15 km return distance), but we were ready to stretch our legs.
The trail climbs steeply, up and up and up and… a long way up. Clouds blew in, coats came on, rain pants added, umbrellas out. Thick forest finally thinned and we began the last rocky climb with patches of lingering snow before topping out with views all round.
We passed fresh grizzly diggings and ungulate tracks – caribou? – in a snow patch. Looking out, the north arm lay thick with cloud, moody-looking but still ripe with the promise of adventure for another trip. Wind whipped around us and feeling the cold, we snapped one last photo, took another quick look around and beat a hasty retreat.
Keeping rain pants on to the lake, we were sweating a little as it warmed up near the end. Slippery descent on moss-covered rocks, exposed tree roots and cone scales left by squirrel’s dinner. The boats were a welcome sight!
Tonight, as with the past two nights, the clouds disappear. Jupiter – the second-brightest planet after Venus – beamed away over the opposite mountain range. Shortly after dusk, ruddy red Antares – heart of the Scorpion in the constellation Scorpius – joined in on the nightly parade.
Heading Home
Huddling under the last big tarp with camp packed up in drybags around us, we waited for the storm to pass. Taking a break in the rain as our sign to move, we quickly loaded the boats and paddled on, happy to at last have a strong wind at our backs. Rain came and left, wind blew and stopped, paddles dipped regardless. Canoeing and kayaking Murtle Lake may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but then again, what is a good adventure without a little effort?
Life is nothing if not an adventure!
Gear worth having:
How many free pink carts are there for the portage ? am planning a trip for next week
I’ve been in and out and back in the backcountry! Hope it’s not too late, but there were about six or so pink carts. The number varies depending on how many have been taken in to the lake. If there are none at the parking area, it would be worth the jaunt in to get one from the lake.
Did the fires in 2023 impact Murtle Lake and can you see the burn areas from the lake.
Good question, but I haven’t been back since before the 2023 fire season. We’ll put it out there and if anyone else knows, please leave a comment.