Hidden Treasures of Copper and Placer Mountains Adventure

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Published many years ago, but time for it to make it’s way out of the archives

We ventured up the backroads of Copper and Placer Mountains with one goal in mind: adventure. What began as a simple plan to scout potential sites for my annual geocaching event quickly turned into something much deeper — a journey through forgotten memories and the photo album of time that lives quietly in the back of our minds.

Many years ago, at the tender age of two, I roamed these roads; or rather, the unnamed dirt paths they were back then. The landscape has changed in some ways, yet in others it remains untouched. It’s strange how time has a way of changing everything and nothing all at once. With that in mind, we set off to wander the roads of Placer Mountain, traverse Ashnola, and follow wherever the backroads would lead.

We woke up early that Saturday morning with excitement buzzing. Adventures had been few and far between this year, and this was our chance to make the most of one. After studying the backroads map book, we mapped out a rough plan: head into Princeton, then west along the Crowsnest Highway to the turnoff. From there, two choices emerge — one road winds toward Copper Mountain with its stunning camping spots, while the other climbs into Placer Mountain, our chosen route for the day. Looking closely at the map, we could see how the road traverses across to Ashnola, and though we hoped the map was accurate, we were ready for whatever the day brought.

For much of the early stretch, the roads were stock-friendly, even the kind a few geocaching friends would happily tackle in their Honda Civics. At first, there wasn’t much to look at beyond stretches of clear-cut forest, though somewhere among the turns lies the road to Placer Lake. Soon enough, though, the dusty track gave way to towering trees with that unmistakable forest scent, and the scenery transformed. That’s also where we encountered something unexpected: the Spirit Rocks.

We had nearly driven past them, but they called to me, and I listened. A short detour up a side road revealed a breathtaking sight, almost reminiscent of Easter Island. We didn’t manage to find every face hidden in the rock formations, though in one photo a friend swore they saw a cougar (whether they meant a real one or a rock-shaped one is still up for debate). We also spotted signs of hidden animal homes and a trail that looked like it might lead all the way to the mountaintop. Time didn’t allow for the climb this trip, but I’ll be back.

Further along, we came upon a makeshift camp with a small shelter , nothing fancy, but still a welcome stop with a view worth pausing for. From there, we zigged and zagged our way deeper into the backcountry, hunting for the road that would take us through. Something off in the distance caught our eye, but we decided to investigate on the return trip. Little did we know what a surprise it would turn out to be.

Eventually, we found the steep descent toward our next destination; a stretch of close cliffs and loose shale that made us grateful for the Jeep and not a larger vehicle. Navigating the switchbacks required caution (and even a three-point turn in the shale at one point), and we couldn’t help but imagine the panic that would set in if we were driving something bigger. But we made it down safely and soon found ourselves in the Ashnola valley. The entire traverse is about 17 kilometers, a route that, with the right tires, cuts your gas bill by about two-thirds.

We stopped to enjoy the beautiful August weather beside the river, watching it flow at just the right speed while swatting at relentless mosquitoes. Continuing up the Ashnola River Road, we were curious to see whether the access road connecting back to Placer Lake was still usable. From what we could tell, it isn’t, the only reliable route remains the transverse back up. Even so, exploring where the roads might lead was worth every minute.

Many of the bridges and culverts here have been removed, though the culverts can still be spotted scattered across the flats. At one point, we were tempted to try driving through one — but thankfully, common sense won out. The roads were great fun, though a few sections had us gripping the wheel as the edge of the mountain crept a little too close to our side. Most of the routes were in fine condition, and we offer our apologies to the cows we startled and the ground squirrels who were no doubt wondering what on earth was rolling over their homes.

A small tip for anyone attempting these trails: a shorter rear trailer hitch would be wise.  Something we learned firsthand when we saw the hitch marks behind us and jokingly titled the moment, “Who’s knocking at my door?”

We pressed on, exploring every mountain view we could find and even stumbling upon a road named “Lusted,” though they all ended in dead ends. With daylight fading, we decided to turn back and take the transverse up; a decision that led to the highlight of the day.

Climbing back up the sharp, snaking shale road (yes, with another three-point turn) and taking the first right, we discovered an unexpected treasure: an old, abandoned mining camp. Scattered across the site were weathered structures, rusting cans, piles of core samples, and, as luck would have it, a flat tire on the Jeep.

Despite the inconvenience, we couldn’t stop grinning. For us, stumbling upon remnants like these is like stepping into a time capsule. We wandered the site with wide-eyed curiosity, pointing things out to each other with childlike excitement: “What was that used for? Look at this! Ooooh!” It’s the kind of energy that fizzes through you like Pop Rocks dancing on your tongue.

After changing the tire, we decided to call it a day. With our luck, a second flat felt far too possible. On the way home, I couldn’t help but drift back to my childhood; to the days when my brothers and I explored these same mountains more than 35 years ago. They treated me like a princess back then, strapping me into a backpack to rappel off cliffs or tying me to a tree so I wouldn’t wander into a bear’s path. I was truly lucky. They were the best brothers I could have asked for,  even if Rod did once climb through the window of the Legion in Princeton for a beer at 13 and spent the night in jail.