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Guest Article: Wilderness Sea Kayaking in British
Columbia's Johnstone Strait
By Elle Andra-Warner
- Special to Westjet's Inflight Magazine "Airlines" May
2002
It was one of those
baby-boomer "I-can-do-anything" moments that landed me in a kayak, traveling
through British Columbia's Johnstone Strait and Inside Passage. In a surge of
daring adventurousness, I signed myself up for a six-day summer kayak trip,
momentarily ignoring the fact that I had never kayaked before.
Our paddling group
consisted of eight novice urban adventurers, and three professional guides from
Sea Kayak Adventures. We first gathered in July at Port McNeill on the
northeast coast of Vancouver Island. The next morning, we slid our bare feet
into slithery wet-suit booties and selected our kayaks.
Everything needed for 11
people's complete self-sufficiency was packed into our six Sea ward kayaks. We
had enough delicious food for a week of three scrumptious meals a day, and
packed an unbelievable 40 duffle bags worth of gear into our six sea-crafts.
After fitting ourselves into the kayaks, we fastened our waterproof kayak
skirts, and pushed off into the Johnstone Strait.
For the next two hours,
we paddled close to the Vancouver Island shoreline, learning the necessary
strokes and building up confidence for our pending kayak adventure. But the
relaxed pace and light chatter belied the one subject on everyone's mind: How
would our paddling skills hold up as we crossed the giant moving waters of
Johnstone Strait?
After a lunch at shore,
we lined up side by side in our kayaks and fixed our gaze across the Strait to
our beach campsite on Hanson Island, two nautical miles away. "Stay together as
a group, paddle steady and focus on our landing site," guide leader Jacqueline
Holmes instructed. "The guides will be out front and on both outer edges.
Everyone ready? Let's go."
It was raw, heart-racing
adventure! Tense and apprehensive, I chewed gum vigorously as we pulled away
from the comfort of the shore. The sun was shining and the water was relatively
calm. No one spoke, and paddles rhythmically dipped through water reaching
depths of 440 meters (1,500 feet). Two-thirds of the way across, someone
shouted: "Paddle like crazy!" just before a churning rip tide crossed our path.
Fueled by an instant adrenaline rush, I paddled ferociously, and soon we were
through it and back into calmer waters.
It took us an hour of
steady paddling to complete the crossing. We hauled the kayaks to higher ground
to secure them against the night's tide, and then set up our tents in the old
growth forest just behind the beach. As the guides prepared a delicious dinner
of salmon, tortellini, broccoli, salad, and peach cobbler, we sipped wine,
nibbled hors d'oeuvres, and made toasts to each other on our first incredible
day at sea.
The next day, we visited
the abandoned Kwakiutl village of Mamalilaculla on Village Island. We started
the morning with a delicious breakfast of French toast, bacon, grapefruit, and
fresh coffee. As we left our campsite an early morning fog settled over the
water, and soon the silver-white mist gently enveloped the brightly colored
kayaks. We floated silently through the mystical and surreal landscape, waiting
for tide to come in.
The route was almost
five nautical miles, paddling the protected inland waterways of the Indian
Islands. Along the way, we passed ancient pictographs on rock walls that marked
sacred, Native burial grounds. An unscheduled stop at a rock outcropping
(bathroom break) yielded a treasure of intertidal life. We kept busy examining
rock crabs, clams, carpets of bladderwort, and a massive colony of acorn
barnacles cemented to the surrounding rock.
The sun was rippling
along the water when we arrived at Mamalilucula and pulled our kayaks ashore.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a boat landed to deliver the famous storyteller and
guardian of the island, Tom Sewid. The grandson of a former Chief, Tom is the
keeper of the island's Kwaitkul culture. Dressed in his Native regalia, he
spoke to us from in front of weathered longhouse posts. Tom explained that
Native people have inhabited the island for over 8,000 years. At one time, a
summer village that harvested candle fish was located here. The harvest was
made into prized eulachon oil, and stored in long kelp tubes for trade and
winter use. With his easygoing style punctuated by big, friendly grins, Tom
enthralled us with stories of Native history, totem poles, potlatches, and
legends.
Paddling back to our
campsite, we were contemplative as we weaved through stunning scenery with the
snowcapped mountains of Vancouver Island's Coastal Range in the
distance.
During another day's
adventure, guide Laureen Macintoch led us on a mid-afternoon hike to Eagle Eye
Lookout on West Cracroft Island. Located on a high ridge, it overlooks the
world-renowned Robson Bight Ecological Reserve for whales on Johnstone Strait.
It is a 2.5 kilometer trail, traversed through a rugged rainforest terrain of
fallen timbers, sword ferns and giant trees. The magnificent panorama that
greeted us at the lookout was worth every grueling step.
At the very edge of the
ridge, sitting on a weathered wooden stump searching for whales through
binoculars, was David Briggs. The tanned, curly-haired researcher from
California has lived on the ridge in a tent every summer since 1984, studying
the whales and boat traffic. After welcoming us with a big smile, he
enthusiastically shared some of his vast knowledge of whale society.
"Whales have the most
stable family groups. They are the only mammals in which all the offspring,
even adult males, stay with their mothers for their entire lives. They help
babysit the young, and when different family groups meet, there is much
socializing. They are a dynamic society with strong social bonds. Each family
has their own dialect, or set of calls, they use as part of their vocal
repertoire."
We remembered his words
the next day when we experienced a close encounter with several whales on our
return crossing to Vancouver Island. Midway through the Strait, guide Antonio
Monzon sighted three large male orca dorsal fins coming towards us. We quickly
rafted the kayaks together to appear as on large object on the whales' sonar,
and positioned ourselves to face the oncoming whales. Jacqueline lowered a
hydrophone into the water so that we could hear their vocalizations and sonar
clicks.
We waited as they
continued their approach, maintaining a straight line toward our stationary
kayak flotilla. About 100 meters (300 feet) in front of us, the whales began to
surface and dive in close synchrony, finishing less than 15 meters (45 feet) to
our right before continuing down the Strait. It was an awesome event that
instantly became our new benchmark for adventure.
Our final evening was
spent amid beached logs at Blinkhorn Peninsula. We looked rougher than we did
on our first night, and we sat around the evening campfire musing about our
many adventures. We credited our trip's success to the skills and leadership of
our excellent guides. They were dedicated professionals who cheerfully provided
personalized attention, helping each of us find our individual comfort
levels…and they were incredible cooks.
In six days the
expedition had honed us into modern-day explorers. We had paddled between three
and four hours everyday and covered over 44 nautical miles. Amazingly, I never
tired. Each day was an adventure in new and spectacular surroundings. Our
spirits soared at the accomplishment.
For me, the adventure
was a journey of learning and challenge. It would be an oversimplification to
say that I conquered the apprehensions of a novice kayaker. The fears were
there every morning but I acknowledged them, then climbed into the kayak and
paddled. If I had let these fears stop me, I would have missed the thrill of
wilderness sea kayaking and an opportunity for personal growth. I took a risk
and the rewards were priceless.
On the last night, I
gazed at the gorgeous sunset and reflected upon what had brought me there in
the first place. After much contemplation, I vowed to act more often with my
baby-boomer, "I can do anything" attitude, at heart.
Would I do this again,
You ask? Without hesitation, the answer is YES.
Click here for Johnstone Strait trip
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