B&S&W Logging In The 1950s And The Early Days of Larry McKinlay

by | Apr 11, 2026 06:12 | History

In the rugged coastal forests of northern Vancouver Island, the 1950s marked a defining era for industrial logging—and few names were as central to that story as Bloedel, Stewart and Welch. Operating extensively in and around the Sayward region, B&S&W helped transform a remote landscape into a hub of resource extraction, innovation, and tight-knit community life.

Amid the roar of chainsaws and the thunder of falling timber, a generation of young men came of age in the bush. Among them was a young Larry McKinlay—one of many who would be shaped by the grit, danger, and camaraderie of coastal logging camps.

The Rise of Industrial Logging in Sayward

By the early 1950s, Bloedel, Stewart and Welch had established itself as a dominant force in British Columbia’s forestry sector. With vast timber licenses and access to old-growth forests, the company set up operations throughout the Sayward Valley and surrounding inlets.

Logging in this era was not for the faint of heart. Crews worked in steep, rain-soaked terrain, felling massive Douglas fir and cedar trees that had stood for centuries. Equipment was evolving—steam donkeys were giving way to diesel-powered yarders—but the work remained intensely physical and often dangerous.

Logs were hauled to booming grounds in coastal inlets like Kelsey Bay, then sorted and transported to mills. The scale of operations was immense, and B&S&W played a key role in feeding both domestic and international demand for lumber during the postwar boom.

Life in the Camps

For workers, logging camps were more than just job sites—they were entire communities. Isolated from towns, these camps provided bunkhouses, cookhouses, and a structured daily rhythm built around long shifts and hard labor.

Meals were hearty, the coffee was strong, and the bonds between workers ran deep. In an environment where every man relied on the others for safety, trust was everything.

It was into this world that young Larry McKinlay stepped.

A Young Logger’s Beginning

Like many local boys, Larry McKinlay was drawn into the logging industry at a young age. Opportunities in Sayward during the 1950s were closely tied to the forest, and logging offered both a livelihood and a rite of passage.

Starting out in entry-level roles—perhaps as a chokerman or swamper—Larry would have quickly learned the realities of bush work: the unpredictability of falling timber, the precision required to rig cables, and the constant awareness needed to stay alive.

But beyond the danger, there was also pride. Logging wasn’t just a job; it was a craft. Young workers like Larry were mentored by seasoned hands, absorbing knowledge that couldn’t be taught in classrooms.

Innovation Meets Tradition

The 1950s were also a time of transition in the logging industry. Companies like B&S&W were beginning to adopt new technologies that would eventually reshape forestry work—chainsaws replacing crosscut saws, improved transportation networks, and early mechanization.

Yet much of the work still relied on human strength and skill. This blend of old and new defined the era, and those who worked through it—like Larry McKinlay—experienced firsthand the shift from traditional to modern logging practices.

A Lasting Legacy

The impact of Bloedel, Stewart and Welch on Sayward cannot be overstated. The company’s operations brought jobs, infrastructure, and a sense of purpose to the region. Roads carved through dense forest would later open access for residents and tourists alike.

For individuals like Larry McKinlay, the experience of working in the bush during this formative period likely left a lasting imprint—one of resilience, resourcefulness, and connection to the land.

Remembering the Era

Today, it’s easy to forget just how demanding and foundational this work was. The forests around Sayward still stand as a testament to both nature’s scale and the human effort required to harvest it.

Looking back at the 1950s, we see more than just an industry—we see a way of life. One where companies like B&S&W drove economic growth, and where young men like Larry McKinlay found their footing in a world defined by towering trees and the relentless rhythm of the saw.

It’s a story of hard work, community, and the enduring legacy of logging on Vancouver Island.

A Glimpse into the Sayward Valley in 1948 – Industry, Opportunity, and a Growing Community

by | Apr 11, 2026 06:03 | History

Tucked away on northern Vancouver Island, the Sayward Valley has long been a region shaped by its rugged landscape, abundant natural resources, and quiet resilience. A recently surfaced excerpt from a 1948 government document offers a fascinating snapshot of life in the valley during a time when industry and settlement were beginning to take firmer root.

A Region on the Edge of Growth

In the late 1940s, the Sayward Valley was still very much in transition. The document highlights early signs of agricultural development, particularly in the Salmon River Valley, where farming was just beginning to expand. The construction of a highway through the area played a pivotal role, improving access and opening the door to both economic growth and tourism.

Even at this early stage, the region was already being recognized for its recreational appeal. Visitors were drawn by the promise of salmon fishing, a resource that would become synonymous with the area’s identity.

Logging: The Backbone of the Local Economy

If one industry defined the Sayward Valley at the time, it was logging. The document makes clear that forestry operations dominated the economic landscape, with several major and minor companies active in the region.

Large firms operated near key waterways like the Salmon River and Memekay River, using them as vital transportation routes for timber. Smaller outfits worked out of coastal inlets such as Rock Bay and Brown’s Bay, contributing to a bustling—if geographically dispersed—network of logging activity.

This reliance on forestry reflects a broader trend across British Columbia during the mid-20th century, where vast forests fueled both local employment and provincial economic growth.

Agriculture: Modest but Promising

Compared to logging, agriculture in the Sayward Valley was still in its infancy. The document describes small dairy farms supplying local markets, along with limited mixed farming. Large-scale crop production—especially truck farming—was virtually nonexistent.

However, there was optimism about the future. Officials identified thousands of acres of potentially viable farmland between Campbell River and Menzies Bay. With irrigation and favorable economic conditions, this land could significantly expand the region’s agricultural capacity.

This forward-looking perspective suggests that even in 1948, planners saw the valley not just as a resource hub, but as a place where communities could grow and diversify.

Recreation and Natural Appeal

While industry drove the economy, recreation was already emerging as an important secondary draw. The valley’s rivers and coastal waters offered excellent fishing opportunities, while forests and hills supported hunting for deer and grouse.

Small tourist lodges scattered throughout the area catered to visitors seeking a wilderness experience—an early indication of the tourism sector that continues to thrive on Vancouver Island today.

Little Mining, Big Potential

Interestingly, the document notes a complete absence of active mining in the Sayward region at the time. Whether due to lack of exploration or limited mineral deposits, this absence stands in contrast to other parts of British Columbia where mining was a major economic force.

Looking Back—and Forward

What makes this 1948 document so compelling is not just what it tells us about the past, but what it reveals about the trajectory of the Sayward Valley. It captures a moment when the region stood at the intersection of tradition and development—rooted in natural resource extraction, yet beginning to explore agriculture and tourism as complementary paths.

Today, the Sayward Valley still reflects many of these foundational elements. Logging remains part of the economy, while recreation and tourism have grown significantly. The seeds of diversification noted nearly 80 years ago continue to shape the region’s identity.

In many ways, this historical snapshot reminds us that even the quietest places have dynamic stories—stories of adaptation, opportunity, and the enduring relationship between people and the land.

The K’ómoks Peoples and the Salmon River Region: A History of Shared Relationships and Continuity

by | Apr 11, 2026 05:53 | History

The Salmon River, known to many Indigenous peoples as X̱wa̱sam (H’kusam), lies within a landscape that has been shaped by thousands of years of Indigenous occupation, travel, kinship, and cultural exchange. Today, the area near present-day Sayward is understood not as the historical territory of a single community alone, but as part of a broader network of interconnected Indigenous peoples whose relationships evolved over generations.

Among those with longstanding historical connections to the region are the ancestors of today’s K’ómoks First Nation, alongside other related communities, including the Sathloot (Łałutł) and Säsitla peoples. Indigenous oral histories, historical records, and ethnographic research all contribute to our understanding of this history, although each source offers a different perspective. Together, they describe a dynamic coastal landscape where neighbouring Nations maintained overlapping patterns of land use, family ties, trade, and governance rather than fixed territorial boundaries.

A Region of Shared Occupation

The northeast coast of Vancouver Island has long been characterized by movement and connection. Rivers, inlets, and sheltered coastal waters served as important travel corridors linking communities for fishing, harvesting, trade, marriage, ceremony, and diplomacy.

Historical accounts indicate that the Salmon River area was one of several places occupied and visited by related Indigenous groups over many generations. Rather than representing an isolated settlement belonging exclusively to one Nation, the region formed part of a larger network of communities whose relationships were shaped through kinship, shared language, and longstanding alliances.

Contemporary Indigenous perspectives emphasize that this history is best understood as one of overlapping occupation and continuing relationships among multiple related Nations.

Change During the Nineteenth Century

The early and mid-1800s brought profound change to Indigenous communities throughout the Pacific Northwest. Epidemics introduced by Europeans, environmental events, changing economic conditions, and periods of conflict all affected population patterns across the coast.

Historical sources describe shifts in where some families and communities lived during this period, including movement between settlements on the northeast coast of Vancouver Island and farther south into the Comox Valley. These changes did not occur as a single event, nor did they represent the disappearance of Indigenous peoples from the Salmon River region. Instead, they reflect changing patterns of occupation within a network of continuing Indigenous presence and interrelated communities.

While settlement locations evolved over time, kinship ties, governance relationships, and cultural connections continued across the region.

The Growth of the Modern K’ómoks First Nation

As communities adapted to changing circumstances, families from several related Indigenous groups continued to build relationships through intermarriage, shared governance, and cultural continuity.

Historical and Indigenous community accounts describe the present-day K’ómoks First Nation as reflecting the convergence and continuation of multiple ancestral communities, including K’ómoks-speaking groups, Säsitla, Walatsa’ma lineages, and other related peoples. These relationships developed over generations and remain an important part of the Nation’s history and identity.

Rather than representing the beginning of a new people, the modern K’ómoks First Nation reflects the continuation of longstanding Indigenous communities adapting while maintaining their cultural identity, governance, and family connections.

Understanding a Complex Historical Landscape

The history of the Salmon River region cannot be understood through a single source alone. Our knowledge comes from several complementary forms of evidence, including:

  • Indigenous oral histories and community knowledge;
  • historical narratives shared by Indigenous authors and Elders;
  • ethnographic research recorded during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries;
  • colonial-era documents; and
  • modern historical scholarship.

These sources sometimes emphasize different aspects of the past. While dates, locations, and interpretations may vary, they collectively illustrate that the northeast coast of Vancouver Island has always been a place of movement, interaction, and enduring relationships among neighbouring Indigenous communities.

An Enduring Indigenous Presence

Today, the Salmon River region remains part of a living Indigenous landscape. The area’s history is not one of disappearance or replacement but of continuity, adaptation, and interconnected relationships that extend across communities and generations.

Recognizing this complexity helps provide a more complete understanding of the region’s past. Rather than viewing the Salmon River as the territory of a single people with a linear historical trajectory, it is more accurately understood as part of a historically shared landscape shaped by overlapping occupation, intermarriage, alliances, and enduring cultural connections.

The K’ómoks First Nation continues to maintain deep cultural and historical ties to this broader landscape, alongside the continuing histories and relationships of neighbouring Indigenous Nations whose connections to the region remain equally significant.

    The Forgotten Coastal Community Of Port Kusam Near Sayward BC

    by | Apr 11, 2026 05:29 | History

    Hidden along the rugged coastline of northern Vancouver Island lies the historical site of Port Kusam, a little-known coastal community located near Sayward. Today, it is quiet and largely reclaimed by forest and shoreline, but in earlier decades it played a small yet meaningful role in the broader network of logging, marine transport, and settlement that shaped the region.

    Though not widely documented compared to larger hubs like Kelsey Bay, Port Kusam remains part of the layered industrial and cultural history of the Sayward Valley.

    A Remote Coastal Setting

    Port Kusam sits in a landscape typical of the outer Sayward coast—steep forested slopes dropping sharply into sheltered inlets, with dense temperate rainforest meeting tidal waters. Like many small coastal locations on northern Vancouver Island, it was never a large settlement, but rather a place shaped by resource use and temporary occupation.

    Its sheltered waters made it suitable for:

    • Small marine landings

    • Log handling and booming activities

    • Short-term work camps or industrial staging areas

    In many ways, Port Kusam was less a town and more a working place tied to the land and sea.

    Logging and Coastal Industry

    The history of Port Kusam is closely tied to British Columbia’s coastal logging economy. As logging expanded through the Sayward region in the 20th century, remote inlets like Kusam were often used for:

    • Temporary logging camps

    • Log sorting and booming grounds

    • Transfer points for timber moving by barge or tug

    Before extensive road networks reached every cutblock, the coast itself was a transportation system. Logs could be moved efficiently by water, making small protected inlets valuable operational sites.

    Port Kusam fit naturally into this system.

    Connection to Sayward’s Industrial Network

    Port Kusam was part of a wider coastal-industrial landscape that included logging operations in the Sayward Valley and marine transport hubs like Kelsey Bay.

    Timber harvested inland would often make its way:

    1. From forest cutblocks down rough logging roads

    2. To shoreline staging or booming areas

    3. Out to larger sorting or shipping points such as Kelsey Bay

    In this system, small coastal sites like Port Kusam acted as supporting nodes—quiet but functional parts of a much larger industrial chain.

    Life in a Temporary Landscape

    Unlike permanent towns, places like Port Kusam rarely developed long-standing infrastructure or large residential populations. Instead, they were characterized by:

    • Temporary camps rather than established communities

    • Seasonal or project-based occupation

    • Minimal permanent buildings

    • Constant movement of workers and equipment

    Life in such places was shaped by work schedules, weather conditions, and the demands of the logging industry rather than traditional civic life.

    Nature Reclaims the Coast

    As logging practices modernized and transportation shifted toward improved road systems and centralized marine facilities, many small coastal sites like Port Kusam gradually fell out of regular use.

    Over time:

    • Temporary structures were removed or decayed

    • Industrial activity shifted elsewhere

    • Forest growth reclaimed old clearings and access points

    Today, little remains on the surface to indicate the site’s former role, aside from subtle traces in the landscape and archival references.

    A Quiet Part of a Larger Story

    Although Port Kusam was never a major settlement, its history reflects a broader truth about coastal British Columbia: much of the region’s development was built on small, temporary, and often unnamed industrial sites.

    Together with places like Sayward and Kelsey Bay, it formed part of a network that supported:

    • The coastal logging industry

    • Marine transport routes

    • Resource-based settlement patterns

    These places were small individually, but collectively they shaped the economic and social history of the region.

    Remembering Port Kusam

    Today, Port Kusam stands as a quiet reminder of how deeply industry and geography were intertwined along the Sayward coast. It represents a time when the shoreline itself was an active workspace—where inlets, bays, and forest edges served as vital infrastructure for moving timber and sustaining communities.

    Though largely forgotten in everyday conversation, its legacy remains embedded in the landscape of northern Vancouver Island—alongside the forests, waterways, and working histories that continue to define the region.

    The Queen Of Prince Rupert Was A Gateway To The North From Kelsey Bay In The 1970s

    by | Apr 11, 2026 05:16 | History

    The Queen of Prince Rupert at Kelsey Bay in the 1970s: A Northern Gateway Era

    In the 1970s, the quiet coastal terminal at Kelsey Bay was part of a much larger maritime network connecting remote communities along British Columbia’s rugged coastline. One of the most important vessels serving this northern route was the MV Queen of Prince Rupert, a ship that helped link isolated coastal towns with the rest of Vancouver Island and beyond.

    For residents of Sayward and surrounding logging communities, the arrival of the ferry was more than transportation—it was a lifeline.

    A Ferry Built for the North

    The Queen of Prince Rupert was introduced in 1965 by BC Ferries as part of its northern service expansion. Designed specifically for longer coastal routes, she was built to handle rougher seas, larger distances, and fewer stops than the more urban ferry runs farther south.

    Her design reflected her mission:

    • Large vehicle decks for trucks and logging traffic

    • Passenger lounges for long coastal journeys

    • Sturdy hull construction for open-water conditions

    • Capacity for both freight and community travel

    She was not just a commuter ferry—she was a northern service vessel connecting isolated economies and communities.

    Kelsey Bay in the 1970s: A Working Port

    By the time the Queen of Prince Rupert was regularly calling at Kelsey Bay, the terminal was closely tied to the forestry industry of the Sayward Valley.

    The port was busy with:

    • Logging trucks hauling timber from inland cutblocks

    • Boom boats managing floating log sorts

    • Coastal freight traffic supporting remote operations

    The ferry terminal served both passengers and industrial cargo, reflecting the mixed-use nature of northern BC transportation at the time.

    Life on Board the Ferry

    For passengers boarding at Kelsey Bay, the experience aboard the Queen of Prince Rupert was shaped by distance and weather. Trips along the northern coast were longer and more exposed than the busy southern routes.

    On board, travellers would typically find:

    • Cafeteria-style dining serving hot meals

    • Observation lounges with large windows for coastal views

    • Vehicle decks filled with logging trucks, campers, and supply vehicles

    • Crew members experienced in navigating challenging waters

    The journey itself often became part of the experience—calm stretches of forested coastline interrupted by open water crossings and unpredictable weather.

    A Link to Remote Communities

    The ferry was especially important for communities that had limited road access or relied heavily on marine transport. For residents of Sayward and surrounding areas, Kelsey Bay provided a critical connection to:

    • Courtenay and Campbell River to the south

    • Northern coastal settlements via connecting routes

    • Supply chains for goods, mail, and equipment

    • Medical and administrative travel to larger centres

    In many ways, the ferry system functioned as an extension of the highway network—only on water.

    The Industrial Side of the Route

    Unlike modern passenger-focused ferry routes, the Kelsey Bay service in the 1970s still carried a strong industrial component.

    The Queen of Prince Rupert frequently transported:

    • Loaded logging trucks

    • Construction equipment

    • Fuel and supply shipments

    • Workers travelling between remote job sites

    This blend of passenger and industrial traffic reflected the economic reality of northern Vancouver Island at the time, where forestry and resource extraction shaped daily life.

    Weather, Water, and Reliability

    Operating along the northern coast was not always predictable. The ferry had to contend with:

    • Sudden storms in coastal channels

    • Fog reducing visibility near shorelines

    • Strong tidal currents around inlets and bays

    • Seasonal weather changes that could delay schedules

    Despite these challenges, the vessel earned a reputation for reliability, helping maintain consistent service even in difficult conditions.

    A Changing Transportation Era

    By the late 1970s and into the 1980s, ferry operations in northern BC began to evolve. Changes in road infrastructure, shifting industrial patterns, and service restructuring gradually reduced the role of some northern routes.

    Over time, Kelsey Bay’s prominence as a ferry stop diminished as transportation networks centralized elsewhere. The Queen of Prince Rupert herself would later be reassigned and eventually retired from BC Ferries service.

    Legacy at Kelsey Bay

    Today, the ferry no longer docks at Kelsey Bay, but its presence remains part of local memory. For those who lived and worked in the area during the 1970s, the arrival of the ship symbolized connection—to jobs, supplies, and the wider world beyond the Sayward Valley.

    Her legacy is tied to:

    • The industrial history of coastal logging communities

    • The development of northern ferry routes in British Columbia

    • The everyday lives of workers and families in remote regions

    Remembering the Northern Route

    The Queen of Prince Rupert was more than a ferry—it was a moving bridge between isolated coastal communities and the rest of the province. At Kelsey Bay, she represented a time when transportation, industry, and community life were deeply intertwined along British Columbia’s rugged shoreline.

    Her visits to Sayward’s coast remain part of the region’s maritime and industrial story—a reminder of an era when the sea was the highway, and ferries were essential to daily life.

    The Early Kelsey Bay Log Sort Helped Build A Coastal Timber Hub

    by | Apr 11, 2026 05:06 | History

    Along the rugged shoreline of northern Vancouver Island, the small coastal settlement of Kelsey Bay became one of the most important timber-handling points in the region. In the early decades of industrial logging, the Kelsey Bay log sort played a crucial role in receiving, organizing, and shipping vast quantities of timber harvested from the surrounding forests of the Sayward Valley.

    Before modern ports and automated sorting systems, this was hard, manual, and highly coordinated work—shaped by tides, weather, and the constant flow of logs coming down from the hills.

    A Coastal Gateway for Inland Forests

    The development of the log sort at Kelsey Bay was driven by geography. The steep terrain inland made direct transport to mills difficult, so coastal transfer points became essential. 

    Logs were brought down from the forest by:

    • Truck roads carved into the valley

    • Older rail and cable systems in earlier phases

    • Small tributary landings feeding larger collection points

    Once they reached tidewater at Kelsey Bay, the logs entered a floating and shoreline system designed to organize massive volumes of timber.

    What a “Log Sort” Actually Was

    A log sort was not a mill, but a distribution and sorting hub.

    At Kelsey Bay, arriving logs were:

    • Floated into booming grounds (contained log pens on the water)

    • Separated by size, species, and ownership marks

    • Bundled into rafts for towing

    Sorting crews worked directly on the water, standing on floating logs or narrow walkways, using pike poles and boom sticks to maneuver massive cedar, fir, and hemlock logs into their designated areas.

    It was precise work in an unstable environment—where everything floated and nothing stayed still for long.

    The Early Operation: Labour on the Water

    In its early days, the Kelsey Bay log sort was entirely manual. There were no automated conveyors or computerized tracking systems. Instead, it relied on:

    • Boom boats to push and guide log rafts

    • Hand crews to separate and sort timber

    • Chains and cables to secure floating pens

    • Constant vigilance against tides and wind

    Workers had to understand both the forest and the sea. A shifting tide could tighten a boom system dangerously or scatter logs across the bay if not properly secured.

    Despite the difficulty, the system was efficient for its time and allowed enormous volumes of timber to be staged for transport.

    Connection to the Valley

    The log sort was only one part of a larger industrial chain that extended deep into the inland forests of the Sayward region.

    Upstream, logging crews were felling old-growth stands and hauling timber out of cutblocks. Downstream, the log sort acted as the final staging area before export or delivery to mills elsewhere on Vancouver Island or beyond.

    This connection between forest and coast defined the region’s economy for much of the 20th century.

    Life Around the Log Sort

    While the log sort itself was an industrial site, it also influenced the surrounding community.

    Kelsey Bay developed as:

    • A working waterfront

    • A gathering point for log transport crews

    • A hub for marine traffic supporting logging operations

    The area was busy with boom boats, tugs, work skiffs, and loaded log rafts waiting for tow. The rhythm of life was dictated by tides, weather conditions, and the steady arrival of timber from inland operations.

    Challenges of the Early Years

    Operating a log sort in open coastal waters came with constant challenges:

    • Storms could break up boom systems

    • Strong currents could scatter floating logs

    • Fog and rain limited visibility for crews

    • Mechanical equipment required constant maintenance in saltwater conditions

    Every day required adaptation. Crews had to respond quickly to changing conditions to prevent losses and keep the system running.

    The Foundation of a Regional Industry

    Despite these challenges, the early Kelsey Bay log sort became a cornerstone of the regional forestry economy. It helped transform the Sayward Valley into a productive timber corridor by linking remote inland forests with coastal shipping routes.

    Over time, the system would modernize, incorporating better equipment, larger tugs, and more efficient sorting methods. But its early foundation remained rooted in manual labour, coastal ingenuity, and deep familiarity with the land and sea.

    Legacy on the Shoreline

    Today, much of the original early infrastructure has changed or disappeared, replaced by newer industrial systems or reclaimed by nature. But the legacy of those early log sort operations remains visible in:

    • The continued importance of Kelsey Bay as a coastal point

    • Historical traces of boom sites and working waterfronts

    • Stories passed down from logging families in the Sayward area

    • The broader industrial history of coastal British Columbia

    A Working Landscape Remembered

    The early days of the Kelsey Bay log sort were defined by hard work, improvisation, and an intimate connection between people, forest, and sea. It was not just an industrial site—it was a living system that linked the deep forests of the Sayward Valley to the global timber trade.

    And while the methods have changed, the story of that shoreline remains part of the identity of the region today.