Where to Buy Now (Part 2)

The long and winding road to Whistler will be transformed as developers head north.

By Chad Hershler (Published: March 2006)

PORTEAU COVE

First, through the fog, the signs appear: “Construction Ahead,” “Traffic fines double in work zones,” “Moving British Columbia Forward” (with a “Spirit of 2010 Olympics” emblem in the corner). Then, the raincoat people wielding stop signs. And finally: the construction. For a five-kilometre stretch of the Sea-to-Sky highway, all the way past Lions Bay, the roadwork is heavy. Trucks line the road; pylons are everywhere; flow grinds to a halt. By the time I make it to the Howe Sound Crest Trailhead, just before Porteau Cove, traffic is backed up to pre-Horseshoe Bay levels. I almost cause a pile-up slowing down to pull off to the side of the road.

It’s a miserable day, so I decide against hiking in. Instead I study the Parks Canada board at the Trailhead. Howe Sound, it explains, is named after the “Glorious First of June 1794 Victory of Lord Howe”—a victory, I can only assume, over the original inhabitants of the area. The trail leads up towards Deeks Creek and Deeks Lake, both named after a pre-depression rock and gravel company started by a John F. Deeks to service—what else?—Vancouver construction. “Porteau” (roughly translated from French to mean “Water’s Gate”) became the name for the community of Deeks’ workers, and Porteau Cove the area closer to the water where they went to fish and hike in their free time.

The company is long gone, but all that rock and gravel is about to return. As one of the only undeveloped (and developable) areas between Squamish and Vancouver, Porteau Cove has been on the real estate radar for decades. The problem: B.C. Rail, which owned the lands, wasn’t ready to sell. An agreement between B.C. Rail, the B.C. government and the Squamish First Nations signed in 2000 changed everything. The government wanted land for its Squamish River Estuary, while B.C. Rail needed land to build a deep-sea port at the south end of their line. After they had agreed to a land swap, the Squamish First Nations stepped in, demanding a seat at the bargaining table and ultimately securing first right of refusal to buy the Porteau Cove lands when they went on the market.

History, it seems, has a way of balancing its books. In a straight-up money-for-land deal—a first for Canada’s First Nations—B.C. Rail gladly sold the Porteau Cove lands to the Squamish Band in April of 2004, during Vancouver’s post-Olympic announcement real-estate frenzy. Now the Squamish First Nations’ proposed Porteau Cove housing development, in partnership with Vancouver developer Concord Pacific, is within months of turning over its first rock.

When Vancouver was awarded the 2010 Games, not everybody celebrated. BEST (Better Environmentally Sound Transportation) and SPEC (the Society Promoting Environmental Conservation) believed the government’s proposed solution to the transportation gridlock between Vancouver and Whistler, to expand the Sea-to-Sky, was wrongheaded. “A fast train to Whistler would have been far more sustainable,” Paul Hundal, a SPEC board director, tells me. “There’s not enough development potential to justify expansion of the highway.”

As predicted, real estate values along the highway soared. Squamish (pop. 16,000), an old mining and logging town on the verge of turning into its own museum, became a speculator’s dream. Last year alone, Squamish’s assessment roll increased by $200 million (almost eight percent)—$53 million of which went into subdivisions, zoning and new construction. With the expansion of the highway leading to speedier commutes, not to mention two new colleges to be built and a steady influx of small businesses, Squamish has begun to look more like a wealthy suburb than a wood-and-copper town on its last breath.

“We’re halfway between Whistler and Vancouver,” says Squamish mayor Ian Sutherland. “We’re only 45 minutes from downtown Vancouver. East of Vancouver, land is scarce, traffic is worse, the commute is longer. Squamish is an attractive place to live.”

The idea of turning Squamish into another bedroom community has many environmentalists shaking their heads. Mayor Sutherland predicts the population of the town and its outlying areas will double in 25 years, and while efforts are being made by Smart Growth B.C. and the Squamish government to reinvigorate already developed areas (the old sawmill is being renovated into 1,300 new units, for example), the demand for undeveloped land is strong. Furry Creek, Britannia Beach and Garibaldi Heights continue to expand. The Porteau Cove development is planning on wedging another 1,400 units into the area. Squamish, along with the many developers setting up shop in and around town, is banking on at least a few of those Olympic pit stops turning into more than coffee and a fill-up.

The Squamish First Nations have built a reputation for economic savvy; the majority of the band’s revenue comes from various Squamish-owned businesses—one of the largest of which is the Park Royal Shopping Centre, spread out like a small village beneath their highrise West Van offices. With two of their reserves at capacity and 900 of their members (50 percent are under 19) on a housing waitlist, they still suffer from many of the problems plaguing First Nations across the country; unlike other bands, however, they’re also sitting on some of the most valuable land in Canada.

I met the team behind the Porteau Cove development last October at the Squamish First Nations’ offices. Chief Gibby Jacob, Squamish Board member Harold Calla and two executives from Concord Pacific had just returned from Pemberton, where they’d given their fourth reading and enactment on the project to a government panel. Smart Growth B.C., though unhappy with any new development beyond civic boundaries, has nevertheless made sure their presence is felt in the corridor. I asked Calla why there hasn’t been much press about the project. “This is a ‘good news’ story,” he said with a wink.

Good news, certainly, for the rest of the Squamish band. “We’re going to take the capital that’s generated,” said Calla, “and re-invest it in our community.” As a “catalyst project,” Porteau Cove should help the band’s housing and employment needs, as well as open up other development possibilities throughout their territory, stretching from Point Grey to Whistler and from Port Moody to Robert’s Creek. “We wanted to have a say in commercial development but we also wanted to participate in it.”

Porteau Cove, however, is one of the last opportunities of its kind. There simply isn’t much more land between Vancouver and Squamish that can tolerate development. All the development potential lies to the north of Squamish—near Shannon Falls, just after Cheakamus Lake and in the Callahan Valley (possibly a South Whistler to come)—but even then, it’s limited. “The Sea-to-Sky corridor has natural constraints as part of its topography,” Calla agrees. “We couldn’t expand in the same way as other suburbs. But that feature creates an attractiveness for the dweller.”

And then, of course, there are those Olympics. Robert Van Wynsberghe, a professor at Royal Roads University’s School of Environment and Sustainability, has studied the effect that “mega events” have on cities around the world. “Vancouver’s at the beginning of a trend where major cities are reinvesting through the Olympic Games. Beijing moved two coal burning plants because of their Games, and the London bid intends to rejuvenate a [run-down] area of their city.” While he worries about the impact of development on the environment (“I don’t know how they’ll contain the growth”), Van Wynesberg remains optimistic. “So much is happening with sustainability—we just need to steer it in the right direction.”

An accident between Porteau Cove and Lions Bay has shut down the highway for a while. I pull into the Porteau Cove Provincial Park boat lot and stare out at the rain falling over Howe Sound. Hard to imagine what life must have been like for the Deeks workers 80 years ago, digging out rock and gravel during the day and casting for fish with their children in the evenings. Never mind them—how about those “original inhabitants?” It must have been a beautiful place to live then; it will definitely be a beautiful place to live soon. Not cheap, mind you: a single-family dwelling in the Garibaldi Highlands starts at $385,000. But with more affordable options available—the developers insist there will be equal numbers of single family and multiple family units—it won’t be unreachable either.

A decade from now, the forest behind me will be a small town.

BACK TO "WHERE TO BUY NOW (PART ONE)"





Read more in the Real Estate Trends 2006 series:


A Roof of One's Own: Are there any bargains left in Vancouver? Yes. We'll tell you where to find them and why the price is right. By Stanley Brunst, Tyee Bridge and Steve Burgess

Fluffing for Dollars: Home staging has become big business because it adds big bucks to the sale price. By Michael Harris

The Open House Circuit: Open houses are an efficient way for realtors to show a property—and to get buyers' competitive juices flowing. By Steve Burgess