"Orcas!" I said. Lexie and Caleb, our Sea Kayak Adventures guides, were asking me and seven others about our overall objective for a six-day kayaking trip. My co-paddlers and I were attending a night-before, planning-and-get-to-know-each-other session at the Haida-Way Inn in Port McNeill on the northeastern tip of Vancouver Island.
Photos courtesy of Paul Malboeuf
Day 1: We arrived at God's Pocket Resort after a bracing boat cruise through the Queen Charlotte Strait, on a tour organized by Sea Kayak Adventures, which has exclusive use of the resort for lodge-based sea kayak tours.
Kayaking British Columbia
Adventurers have punished their minds and bodies on human-powered odysseys for centuries. Every week, it seems another modern-day Thor Heyerdahl embarks on a feat that most of us can't even fathom, and often for the fame that comes with success.
While some people are content to simply watch killer whales, sea kayakers have a yen to experience them.
The payoff for investing a few days and a little muscle power can be huge, as another eclectic group of adventurers learned this summer in the fabled orca waterways off northeastern Vancouver Island.
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Exploring Nature: Black(fish) Magic
By Matthew Davidson, Sea Kayak Adventures, Inc.
Blackfish, aka Orca, or, more commonly, killer whale - a creature that inspires awe in we land-bound humans. "Blackfish" is what the coastal Kwakwaka'wakw band (First Nations peoples) in British Columbia call these sleek hunters, which are actually mammals.
Technically, Orcas are very large dolphins - with much larger teeth. Whales have always been important to BC's native people. Killer whales especially were believed to possess great powers and were never to be harmed.
As 12 of us kayakers paddled out into Canada's Johnstone Strait one calm September morning, we all knew what we wanted: to see some Blackfish up close, to experience some of the magic. But I'm sure that everyone was also asking themselves the same question - how close do I really want to get?
Johnstone Strait is the northwest portion of the body of water separating Vancouver Island from mainland British Columbia. It's part of what is sometimes referred to as Canada's Inside Passage. From July through early September, the northern resident group of Orcas, numbering 250 individuals, ply the strait in their quest for the multitudes of salmon migrating from the ocean to the many pristine streams and rivers in this area. Members of a kayaking group that had just returned from a similar six-day trip had regaled us with thrilling tales of numerous encounters with large family groups of Orcas, called pods. We hoped that we would be so lucky.
Expectations were high that first morning as we set out from Bauza Cove for our first night's camp on Hanson Island. But wouldn't it be too much to ask to see Orcas on our first day on the water? I had always felt that experiencing wildlife close up was a privilege that had to be earned. Luck was with us so far at least in regards to the weather: clear sky, no wind, calm water. We set our course and headed for the island, focusing on our paddling. After about an hour, within 10 minutes of reaching sheltered Sunset Beach and our first night's encampment, we saw them in the distance. Thin mists of water were popping up from the surface of the water - Orcas expelling water from their blowholes and taking a breath before submerging again. After a few more minutes we heard the sounds of the spouting. One of our Canadian guides, Tim, instructed us to point the bows of our boats towards the oncoming whales and stop paddling.
The pod consisted of about seven or eight animals and was heading right for us. The excitement and anticipation was palpable. How close would we get to them? At this point, the Orcas would be deciding that. We sat motionless, watching the huge black fins rise up and then plunge beneath the glassy surface. Within moments they were passing right through our group, to the left, to the right, and directly beneath us. My heart was in my throat as I saw the six-foot dorsal fin of a male adult about 20 yards in front of me disappear beneath the water. I looked down and to my left as the huge black silhouette of the Orca glided by. I could have reached down with my paddle and touched him.
As the pod swam off into the distance behind us, we all collectively exhaled. We had just experienced some Blackfish magic!
Matthew Davidson is a free-lance writer/cartoonist living in Sandpoint, Idaho.
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"I particularly liked the guides' unobtrusive attention to group safety, the subtle but high quality service, the wildlife talks and their ability to alter plans in view of the tides and weather."
