But, ridden with union strife, Vancouver Island's mining industry was dirty and dangerous. Hundreds were killed in gas explosions and in 1912, safety issues and lack of union recognition provoked a bitter two-year strike. Coal production declined after the Great Depression and by the 1940s, it had slowed to a trickle. Bereft of economic clout, Cumberland reincorporated as a village and the last mine closed in 1966.
In the 1970s and '80s, the village stuttered along barely surviving, as economic development shifted east to the growing hubs of Courtenay and Comox. Real estate agents shunned the place and locals were written off as whimsical or just plain weird. But Cumberland's small nucleus of artists, hippies and bikers weren't throwing in the towel.
"We felt the need to prove our worth as a community because we had been treated like an underdog, located on the wrong side of the tracks," said Cursons of Cumberland's 21st-Century renaissance. "We wanted neighbouring communities and visitors to know that we had a story to tell."
While the village might have ditched coal for nature, it still proudly extols its industrial past. A fact-packed local museum contains a mock-up of an old mineshaft, and various information boards around the village detail the history of erstwhile mining operations.
Notwithstanding, the biggest lure these days is mountain biking.
Tap a cyclist in these parts and they'll likely tell you that Vancouver Island is one of the best places in the world for cyclists. The secret's in the dirt; the consistency of the damp, moist soil on the forest floor that makes it good for riding.
Since the historical land-use agreement legitimised the network in 2015, Cumberland has become a destination village for cyclists from all over the world. One pedal turn from the main drag and you're flying through rich temperate rainforest. The trails logged around 70,000 users in 2020, and it's not just bikers. The UROC network overlaps with Community Forest land and the trails are multi-use. Some have historical signage relating to the area's industrial past. As well as cyclists, they attract naturalists, school groups, families and hikers.
The growing popularity of Cumberland as a recreational hub has had a knock-on effect for the local economy. Despite its small size, the village now has a microbrewery, several clothing boutiques, a chocolate shop and an island-wide reputation for live music. On the flip side, property prices have quadrupled in less than a decade and the blue-collar demographic is changing. Some locals fear creeping gentrification; others suggest that Cumberland should veer away from the mainstream and continue to embrace its weirdness.
"Like so many other communities, the pace of growth in Cumberland has outpaced our ability to plan as a community," admitted Cursons. "But as we've grown in size and reputation, we have also come to realise that strong community needs the protection of the things we value like heritage, nature, water and that gritty underdog character that underpins our collective identity."
Notwithstanding, during my short stay in Cumberland, every resident I spoke to professed a deep love for the place.
I love Cumberland because I feel like we still have a meaningful opportunity to shape our collective story
"I love Cumberland because I feel like we still have a meaningful opportunity to shape our collective story," said Cursons, who has lived in the village for 26 years. "Our actions, our volunteer efforts, our creativity and our passions still make a difference in how the community is changing and developing."
It's hard to disagree. As I took my rental bike back to the shop and dipped into a casual taco restaurant for dinner, I couldn't help feeling a sneaking admiration for this city-turned-village that swapped coal mining for mountain biking, and raised millions of dollars to buy a forest. It shows that small communities can still claim control of their landscape, and that grassroots volunteer action can replace dirty industry with something that's more sustainable and fun.
