If you look a little deeper and peel back the undergrowth, you will find a fern fossil. Today’s lush forest was once covered in ferns and wetlands. Plant matter, compressed over millions of years, transformed into black gold--coal. The vast areas around what today we call Cumberland, are rich in natural deposits. In 1860, prospectors started surveying the lands around the lake, and in less than thirty years, a bustling community would surround this pristine landscape, extracting natural resources to power industries around the world.

Throughout its history as a coal mining community, eight mines were in operation from 1889 to 1967, and reached depths of more than 900 meters below the surface, forever changing the natural landscape.

As you wander down the path, rustling paper catches your eye. A long-forgotten notice for No. 4 Mine is nailed to a tree near the old mine entrance. The notice describes the methods of timbering within the mines, citing Special Rule No. 126, for “Set Timber” and “Prop and Cap Piece.”

Located near Coal Beach, at the edge of Comox Lake, between Perseverance Creek and Whyte’s Bay, lies the No.4 mine. Opened in 1890, it was one of the most infamous mines in Cumberland’s dark industrial past. No. 4 mine took over operations from No.1, 2, and 3, pulling upon the labour force of these three discontinued mines and their small communities. It was connected to Cumberland by the lake and the nearby rail line. With its abundance of high-quality coal, No. 4 mine quickly became the most productive mine in Cumberland.

No. 4 was a slope mine, extending deep underground to the northeast. As miner's dug deeper and deeper, its ventilation system became inadequate, and the risk of deadly explosions and fires grew. Then, on August 30th, 1922, disaster struck. An explosion killed eighteen miners. Months later, on February 23rd, 1923, another killed thirty-three more men. In the span of only six months, fifty-one men’s lives were lost in the pursuit of coal. This marked the end of No. 4's glory days. In the following years, operations continued, but on a significantly reduced scale. After a storm flooded the mine in 1935, it was permanently closed.
No. 4 produced 6.5 million tonnes of coal in its lifetime. Today, you can still see the remnants of mine No. 4's operations. Most notably, the fan house, which pumped oxygen into and out of the mine, which was crucial to the miners' safety.

This specimen of fossilized wood was found on the shores of Coal Beach, just a stone's throw away from No. 4 mine. Drifting against the beach's sandy shores isn't just longshore and driftwood, but memories of families in search of peace and quiet. Watching the sunset behind the glacier was a welcome relief from the toil, darkness, and difficulties underground work. The gentle lap of the water against the shore is a stark contrast from the deafening roar of industrial life.

Following the closure of No. 4 mine, families continued to enjoy Coal Beach. In 1960, Weldwood of Canada purchased all the colliery lands outside the Village of Cumberland boundary and buried the mine entrance.

The public turned the beach into an unofficial public picnic site that is still enjoyed today.

Coal Beach remains a popular spot for water-based recreation amongst locals and visitors alike, while also holding important cultural, social and environmental legacies. The Cumberland Community Forest Society purchased a part of this land to ensure the protection of the Puntledge watershed.

In the forest, hidden under the rotting wood and rusted nails of a collapsed cabin, hides a little jar of mustard. It dates back to at least 1945, and is not recommended for consumption. The discovery brings back memories of family gatherings and picnics on the beach.

Located on the northeast corner of the lake is Whyte’s Bay. A small gravel beach with a low rocky headland covered in pines, it stretches around the lake shore. The bay takes it's name from James Whyte, an overman at the No. 2 mine, who, in 1890, built a house on the bay, and moved his family out to the lake to protect them from a cholera outbreak spreading through Union (now Cumberland). Following the opening of No.4 mine, up to thirty families moved to Whyte’s Bay. It's convenient proximity to the mine, picturesque views, and affordable living allowed a small community of people who lived simply to emerge. They lived by hunting, fishing, growing their own food in small gardens and working at the mine when work was available.

The children of the families there lived carefree lives; swimming in the lake during summer heat waves, relaxing by sunset beach fires, and fishing excursions on the lake. The only drudgery was the school commute. Before the arrival of the railway, the kids would have to walk five kilometres into Cumberland to class!

Hidden under the rotting wood and rusted nails of a collapsed cabin in the forest hides a little jar of mustard. It dates back to at least 1945, and is not recommended for consumption. The discovery brings back the memories of family gatherings and picnics on the beach.

Located on the northeast corner of the lake is Whyte’s Bay. Whyte's Bay stretches around the lake shore, a small gravel beach with a low rocky headland covered in pines. In 1890, James Whyte, then the Overman at No.2 Mine, built a house on Whyte’s Bay and moved his large family out to the lake to protect them from a cholera outbreak spreading through Union (now Cumberland). Following the opening of No.4 Mine, up to thirty families moved to Whyte’s Bay. Its convenient proximity to the mine, its picturesque views, and its affordable living allowed a small community of people who lived simply to emerge. They lived by hunting, fishing, growing their own food in small gardens and working at the mine when work was available.

The children of the families there lived carefree lives; swimming in the lake during summer heat waves, sunset beach firs, and fishing excursions on the lake. The only drudgery was the school commute. Before the arrival of the railway, the kids would have to walk five kilometres into Cumberland to make class!

In 1934 the lake flooded. Causing devastation to many of the cabins and homes of the families in Whyte’s Bay. Many decided to move to Cumberland instead of relocating their houses to higher ground, and when No. 4 Mine shut in 1935, more followed in their footsteps.

However, many families continue to enjoy Whyte’s Bay as a popular spot throughout summer. Walking the driftwood-covered shoreline, you’ll spot stone piles, painted rocks, and wood carvings.

In 1934 the lake flooded. Cabins and homes of the families in Whyte’s Bay were devastated. Many decided to move to Cumberland instead of relocating their houses to higher ground, and when No. 4 Mine shut in 1935, more followed in their footsteps.

However, many families continue to enjoy Whyte’s Bay as a popular spot throughout summer. Walking the driftwood-covered shoreline, you’ll spot stone piles, painted rocks, and wood carvings.

Trek through overgrown clearcut, and you’ll find this disbanded logging shackle. Once an unblemished piece of equipment for connecting logging equipment to cables, it is now rusted and seized.

It wasn’t just coal hiding under the hills that lured industrialists to the Island’s lakeshores; it was the green gold of Douglas fir that covered them, too.

By 1920, B.C. had established itself as Canada’s largest supplier of lumber.

After attaining control of logging rights around Comox Lake, the Comox Logging and Railway Company established an array of infrastructure to support their operations. They built a rail line from the east end of the lake to Royston in 1927, and in 1929, a floating A-frame camp to log the steep banks of the lake.

By using a powerful donkey engine, the floating A-frame would pull logs from up to 1200 feet up the banks of the lake into the water. Once in the water, a tug boat would haul them to the railway line.

Logging stamps were used to identify which company harvested which timber. This one is the stamp of the Comox Logging and Railway Company, a company that dominated logging on the shores of Comox Lake.

In 1932 Lake Camp was built on the Lake, at the mouth of the Puntledge River, and became the center of logging operations around Comox Lake.

Lake Camp soon prospered into a bustling community.

On shore, fifty cabins were built to house married loggers and their families. A machine and blacksmith shop, a large school, and a dance hall were also built within the isolated community. Floating on the lake were bunkhouses (holding over a hundred single working men), offices, the cookhouse, the meat house, the boiler house, and the woodyard.

It's spirited community dynamic set Lake Camp aside from all other logging camps. While others were predominantly occupied by only single bachelors, Lake Camp was a thriving and multicultural family community, with a vast array of characters, both old, young, local and international.

Scroll through the pages, and you’ll face some gruelling injuries endured by logging men. Accidents were common at Cruickshank Camp, with four deaths in the space of three years between 1940 and 1943.

Cruickshank Camp had an infamous reputation amongst loggers, and its reputation as being a tough, dangerous and isolated camp still lingers today.

Memories around Lake Camp were of warm nostalgia, with raccoons stealing from the kitchen, children running to school, and community dances in the hall. Cruickshank Camp recollections, however lack the same fondness.

In 1937 the floating portion of Lake Camp was hauled up the Lake to the mouth of the Cruickshank River (the far end from Cumberland). The single men followed, but the married men and their families did not. The lack of community life, alongside the Camp’s infrastructure not being as modern as other logging camps, meant its workers were more transient in nature.

Life at Cruickshank was lonely and grueling. There were no community dances, no meetings at the pub after a hard day's felling. Day in, day out. Because of its tough nature, experienced workers sought work elsewhere, at logging camps with better amenities, like those in Ladysmith. As a result, the workforce of Cruickshank reverted back to the ‘Hiring Hall’ style and attracted ‘greener’ workers with little to no experience.

While little evidence can be seen at the lake today, an old brick lying along the shoreline reminds you of the old cabins that would have stood here, but were washed away by Mother Nature. On the quiet Sunday morning of June 23rd, 1946 a 7.3 magnitude earthquake shook the Valley and beyond.

The earthquake triggered a wave, said to be thirty feet high, that swept across the lake's southwest end, the side furthest from Cumberland. The Cruickshank Logging Camp felt its full force--donkey engines were thrown from the wharf, mooring piles were torn from the harbour, and a twenty-foot motorboat was flung forty-five feet inland and wedged amongst bushes.
It’s rumoured that one worker was on the wharf when the wave rolled in and sprinted in a panic for higher ground, just avoiding the disaster. He only suffered a wet foot or two after successfully making it off the wharf and up the bank.

The earthquake completely reshaped the landscape surrounding the lake. The water rose. Cabins that lined its shores were washed away. Beaches were submerged, and trees that formerly lined its banks canted over.

Although we often think of industries such as mining, logging, and hydropower as irrevocably changing the environment, it is important to remember that natural disasters can have equally devastating effects. Earthquakes, tornados, and wildfires can destroy ecosystems and communities alike in one fell swoop.

The rays of the sun glint of a shining piece of metal, catching your eye. It’s a dirt-covered pin. With a little elbow grease, you wipe it clean and discover it’s a token from Forbidden Plateau Ski Hill. People started to hike up Mount Beecher from Bevan as early as the 1920s in search of those sweet turns. Shortly after, Ben Hughes, publisher of the Courtenay-Comox Argus newspaper, dubbed the area as the infamous ‘Forbidden Plateau’ following an interview with local, Clinton Wood, who suggested naming it with a ‘bit of mystery’ to add to its allure.

The first ski lodge at Forbidden Plateau was built in 1934, with the first Kandahar downhill ski race held in 1947. In 1964 the Mount Beecher Ski Development Society was formed, which would operate ski facilities on the Forbidden Plateau, and1965 the society installed the first T-Bar lift on Vancouver Island. Forbidden Plateau quickly became a skiing hotspot, with hundreds of thousands of skiers flocking to its slopes by 1978. Mount Washington soon opened its doors as well, in 1979. However, Forbidden Plateau's prosperity was not to last--by the 1980s the resort faced burgeoning debts, and the Development Society was bought out by the Forbidden Plateau Recreation Ltd. in an effort to save it. However, in 1999 a series of unfortunate events--the collapse of the roof due to heavy snowfall, leaking diesel tanks, and a law suit--caused its closure. In 2002, the resort burned down. The flames were visible all the way from nearby Courtenay.

The Forbidden Plateau Recreation Ltd. company's lease on the land expired in 2004, and in 2019 clean-up of the former resort site was completed. Remnants of the chair lift can still be seen.

Learn more about the history of Forbidden Plateau Ski Hill at https://www.forbiddenskihill.ca/story