Revelstoke

Revelstoke stands at the confluence of rugged terrain and rippling waters, a community of 8,275 souls as counted in the 2021 census, spread across 41.28 square kilometres of riverbank and mountain foothills. Positioned some 641 kilometres eastward of Vancouver and 415 kilometres westward of Calgary, this city occupies a nexus where the Columbia River, newly liberated from the Revelstoke Dam’s downstream impoundment, mingles with the Illecillewaet’s glacial outflow. Here, the Trans-Canada Highway and the iron sinew of the Canadian Pacific Railway thread through Rogers Pass, carving a transit corridor between Selkirk’s cragged summits and the Monashee Mountains’ rounded ridges.

From its earliest days, this passage of rock and water defined both opportunity and adversity. In the mid-1880s, as track layers forged westward and eastward to complete the transcontinental ambition, a surveyor’s namesake—Farwell—marked the spot known for its “second crossing” of the Columbia. Yet, when Baring Brothers’ lifeline rescued the CPR from fiscal collapse in 1885, the railway commemorated Lord Revelstoke’s intervention by bestowing his title upon the budding settlement. The inauguration of its post office in 1886 anchored a nascent town whose first industry, mining, tinkered with the riches lying just beneath the surface but whose greater fortune would arrive on steel rails.

Decades hence, the arrival of the Trans-Canada Highway in 1962 unfurled a new axis of movement: the automobile. No longer tethered exclusively to timetables etched in iron, visitors could now ascend the Columbia’s valley by car, glimpsing the forested slopes of Mount Begbie to the south or crossing Eagle Pass westward toward Shuswap’s shimmering waters. As access improved, an economy once dominated by the CPR and local sawmills widened to embrace tourism, retail, construction and, in recent years, a surprising influx of telecommuters and innovators drawn by Revelstoke’s wilderness and quality of life.

The city’s silhouette is defined by water and mountain alike. To the north, Mount Revelstoke National Park bristles with cedar and hemlock, climbing from river bank to alpine meadow. Here, shaded trails weave past meadows glimmering in lupine and paintbrush, while creeks tumbling from shoulder-height snowfields herald the pace of seasonal thaw. A few clicks north of downtown, the highway crosses the Revelstoke Dam, completed in 1984, whose towering concrete façade retains the Columbia’s breadth in silent repose. On summer days, the Dam Visitor Centre welcomes guests to witness the thrust of hydroelectric power—a reminder of humanity’s imprint upon these elemental flows.

Yet, even as concrete reshapes waterways, the surrounding forests remain prime habitat for black and grizzly bears. In the early 1990s, an electric fence sealed off the municipal dump, aiming to dissuade foraging ursids. Deprived of landfill scraps, the displaced bears descended into town, prompting a tragic cull of so-called nuisance animals. That episode engendered a communitywide education initiative—an effort to protect both human and animal with measures as simple as secure yards, bear-proof bins and respectful distance—a testament to Revelstoke’s aspiration to coexist with the creatures among whom it holds jurisdiction.

Winter arrives with a startling abundance. In the record winter of 1971–72, over 24 metres of snow graced Mt. Copeland’s slopes, while nearly eight metres blanketed the townsite itself. Rooflines vanished beneath the drifts, vehicles hunkered beneath mounds that rivalled street lamps. Such extremes belong to a continental, humid climate defined by long, snowy winters and summers that—though warm by coastal reckoning—bear a cool edge when night descends. The thermometer has spiked to 40.6 °C on rare July afternoons, and plummeted below −34 °C in mid-winter nights, but more often oscillates between crisp overnight lows and daytime highs that gently coax hikers, bikers and kayakers from their winter torpor.

Against this backdrop of abundant snowfall and rugged terrain, skiing emerged as Revelstoke’s crowning magnet. A modest lift on Mount MacKenzie served eager locals in the 1960s, supplemented by adventurous snowcat adventures at higher elevations. Yet a vision persisted—a comprehensive resort encompassing base village, gondola, alpine bowls and fall-line pistes. That dream crystallized in 2007, when Revelstoke Mountain Resort flung open its lifts to reveal North America’s loftiest vertical at 1,713 metres. Over 3,121 acres of terrain unfold below the gondola—gladed forest runs interspersed with open chutes, high-alpine bowls where the snow lies deep and unbroken, and groomed runs that ease beginners into the sublime.

As the resort matures, so too does its offering. In winter, skiing extends from lift service to cat and heli options, and beyond into guided backcountry zones. Summer unveils lift-assisted mountain biking trails carved into hillside duff, hiking routes that thread ridgelines trimmed with alpine wildflowers, and Western Canada’s first Pipe Mountain Coaster—a gravity-powered descent on rails that descends nearly a kilometre. Plans for the coming years envision new lifts, additional lodging and a championship-calibre golf course arriving by 2025, all woven into the existing village so that adventure and respite occupy the same space.

Yet Revelstoke’s draw extends beyond powder and piste. Blessed with a small-town footprint—fewer than 4,000 private dwellings in 2021—a visitor finds most destinations within walking or cycling distance. BC Transit’s network of local routes hums along major arteries from Monday through Saturday, and a pair of taxi operators, Howard’s and Johnnie’s, stand ready for after-hours reliance. For those arriving from afar, Revelstoke Airport accommodates seasonal charters from Vancouver; otherwise, Kamloops and Kelowna, each a two-and-a-half-hour drive away, handle scheduled flights.

Rail enthusiasts and history buffs, meanwhile, find their own romance in the Revelstoke Railway Museum, housed in the former CPR train station. Exhibits trace the herculean feat of laying track through treacherous passes and forests, the labour of lantern-lit gangs working by hand and dynamite, the stories of Chinese navvies and surveyors, and the men and women whose livelihoods the railway sustained. Beyond town, 45 kilometres west on Highway 1 at Craigellachie, the Last Spike site memorializes the moment in 1885 when east and west rails joined—a symbolic act that echoed across the Dominion and onwards to the Pacific Coast.

Driving westward a few dozen more kilometres reveals the Enchanted Forest, where over 350 handcrafted figurines—fairytale scenes hewn from cedar logs—inhabit glades of ancient timber. Among turrets, treehouses and stump-carved creatures, children and grown-ups alike lose themselves in a world simultaneously playful and serene. Equally evocative is Three Valley Gap, a heritage ghost town where the echoes of 1860s gold-rush dreams haunt the shattered facades of miner cabins and saloons. Cobwebbed storefronts and silent boardwalks evoke a pioneer ambition that leapt at the promise of fortune yet crumbled under nature’s immutable will.

Southward, along the Columbia’s flow, lie the Arrow Lakes—narrow arms of water bordered by sheer hillsides that reflect sapphire sky. Kayaks and paddleboards slip across glassy surfaces in summer’s calm, and anglers seek kokanee and rainbow trout that haunt the deep. On breezy days, sailboats drift with the wind, while motor cruisers venture into hidden coves where eagle nests brood atop snags. Mount Begbie watches from a distance, its serrated ridges snow-tipped into late June, a sentinel marking the boundary between river and mountain realm.

Cultural life in Revelstoke bears the imprint of its cinematic moments. The town has provided backdrop to tales as diverse as the 1937 British production The Great Barrier, which dramatized the CPR’s genesis, and Hollywood thrillers such as Double Jeopardy (1999), where the courthouse’s neoclassical façade anchors a climactic scene. More recently, the Hallmark Channel’s Frozen in Love (2017) and the indie feature The Barber (2001) found in Revelstoke’s streets and peaks a setting both cinematic and authentic—where brick storefronts and snow-draped pines offer a vacancy of artifice.

Equally important to daily life are the rhythms that govern modern Revelstoke. Spring’s runoff swells rivers, carving new channels in gravel bars and renewing forests. Summer sees a pulse of festivals: farmers’ markets offering alpine cheeses and smoked trout, music performances in the park, and outdoor film screenings beneath star-bright skies. Autumn drapes hillsides in russet and gold, a final blaze before snow begins to gather and the rhythms slow once more. Through it all, the city’s downtown revitalization—sparked in 1986 to offset shifts in the hydroelectric and forestry industries—remains in effect. Heritage brick façades now host galleries, outdoor-gear outfitters and cafés where conversation flows nearly as freely as the Columbia itself.

Beneath this mosaic of recreation and heritage, Revelstoke’s present hinges upon an interplay between conservation and development. The recent influx of tech workers and remote entrepreneurs, drawn by reliable broadband amidst mountain solitude, has diversified the local economy and introduced new cultural currents. Yet the community remains vigilant, keen to protect its wild neighbours and ensure that growth respects both river-corridor corridors and critical wildlife habitats. Educational programs, initiated after the bear cull, now extend to schools and public forums, emphasizing coexistence and stewardship.

By the banks of the Columbia, where water courses through dam and rapids alike, Revelstoke unfolds as a study in contrast: old world and new, industry and wilderness, solitude and conviviality. It is a place where engines of progress—the roar of a gondola, the echo of a passing freight train—coexist with the hush of snow-laden branches and the splash of trout leaping from a mountain stream. Long may its rails carry travellers between sea and sky, and may its slopes continue to draw those in search of silence broken only by wind and water. In the interstice of rock and river, Revelstoke endures, a repository of stories, waiting to be read against the backdrop of the Selkirks’ timeless heights.