 Los
Angeles Times
May 18, 2003
Kayaking
points north
Along
the Inside Passage of Canada, whales and other wilderness wonders
lie within arm's reach.
By Janet Williams
Special to The Los Angeles Times
Hanson
Island, Canada
 There
is a place in the Canadian coastal wilderness that epitomizes my
idea of heaven on Earth. The islands dotting the Inside Passage,
a glacier-carved waterway to Alaska, sandwiched between Vancouver
Island and the mainland coast of British Columbia, are lined with
western hemlock trees reaching into sapphire skies. Bald eagles
sit on treetop perches, their shrieks drifting in the saltwater
breeze. Ravens soar overhead, their reflections mirrored in aquamarine
waters that teem with whales, porpoises and seals.
It was here
last July that I had one of those rare and fleeting moments that
seem hard to believe even while they are happening. On an uninhabited
island off the northern tip of Vancouver Island, British Columbia,
nine campers and I waited on a rocky ledge 15 feet above a frigid
inlet. We stood, cameras in hand, eager for an announcement on our
two-way radio. "A super-pod is heading in your direction,"
a voice crackled. Winding their way through the passage's maze of
islands were 72 orcas.
Near the mouth
of the channel a quarter-mile away, the whales came into view. Through
binoculars we tracked black fins slicing the placid waters. We heard
them blow as they surfaced for air, showering the breeze with a
mist of seawater. A few broke from the pod, drifted into our inlet
and then fanned out across Johnstone Strait. Four hugged the shoreline
leading to our ledge. Showing off as they approached, they arched
their tail fins high in the air before abruptly slapping them down.
 Three
whales suddenly stopped directly in front of us. One by one, as
if on cue, they shot straight up like rockets, their massive bodies
suspended in the air. We watched, stunned into silence, as the three
curious killer whales glanced our way before quietly disappearing
back into the sea.
Pampered
at camp
I love wilderness
adventure travel partly because it's unpredictable. A day spent
kayaking among the Inside Passage's islands is shaped by nature,
your itinerary determined by tidal currents, the location of wildlife
or the whim of the wind.
But I am not
an experienced kayaker, nor do I camp regularly. In fact, it's been
a few years since my 47-year-old bones have slept on the ground
with a pad not much thicker than a fat slice of steak. But experience
was not necessary on this six-day kayaking and camping trip organized
by Northern Lights Expeditions, an outfitter based on Vancouver
Island for more than 20 years. Only a sense of adventure was needed,
but that eliminated my husband. Along with his unnatural aversion
to salt water, he is no Daniel Boone. His idea of camping involves
room service and cable TV, so I went with my friend Mandy Bauman.
Our group of
10 campers and three young guides — Luke, Michelle and Joi
(pronounced Jo-ee) — gathered the night before our departure
in the lobby of the Haida-Way Inn, in the small logging town of
Port McNeill on the northeastern shore of Vancouver Island. Our
guides gave each of us five dry bags in which to stow clothing and
gear. They were color-coded and printed with names of wild creatures
so we could easily recognize our stuff. Mandy was "black bear."
The others had cool names like "eagle" or "wolf,"
but I was amused to be dubbed "river otter" — a weasel.
From the moment
we met, our group fit like old chums gathering after a long absence.
My fellow campers ranged from mid-30s to 60 and came from both coasts
of the U.S. Amy and Ray Mathis had traveled from Florida; Alan Thompson,
Beth Light, and Mike and Nadine Nielsen from Seattle; Rob and Kelly
Easley were honeymooners from San Francisco; and Mandy and I are
from the Bay Area. Our shared appreciation of wildlife and the outdoors
created an instant bond, and we were eager to get started.
The next morning
a water taxi shuttled us 15 miles to Compton Island, where the Mamalilikulla
tribe lived for thousands of years. All that remains of their village
is a blanket of crushed white seashells on the beach. Compton, like
many of the islands in the Inside Passage, is uninhabited, and it
would be our camp for the next two days.
The mornings
and evenings were cool, so I wore layers of clothing: three shirts
and a jacket, tights under shorts covered by long pants — excessive
maybe, but I tend to get cold in a sauna. By noon temperatures warmed,
and I went sleeveless under cloudless skies.
Insects were
not a problem either, other than an occasional mosquito trying desperately
to enter our screened tent. Our snug nylon domicile was impervious
to most of the elements, even if it didn't always feel that way.
I am a light
sleeper, cursed with an active imagination. One night I awoke to
winds whipping through the trees and twigs dropping on our tent.
Lying in the dark in a sleeping bag, I envisioned that the forest
was falling or that we might become airborne like Dorothy in "The
Wizard of Oz." Come morning, though, hardly a leaf was out
of place.
It didn't take
long before we realized that this trip was not for sissies. There
were chores to be done. Although our guides worked hard to indulge
us, a willingness to work was necessary if we wanted time for fun.
We unloaded gear, helped carry kayaks, set up tents and collected
firewood. It was like being in the Boy Scouts — without the
merit badges.
 In
exchange for washing the dishes, we were pampered with scrumptious,
hearty meals — burritos, pizza, smoked salmon, lasagna, baked
biscuits with cheese — in a makeshift wooden lean-to dubbed
the "Blackfish Cafe." (Natives call orcas blackfish.)
For breakfast, Michelle made Tasmanian French toast, a delicious
concoction of cream cheese sandwiched between slices of bread dipped
in butter and eggs, then grilled to perfection and topped with blueberries,
peaches and syrup. Luke was a wizard with pasta, and Joi created
artistic dishes of vegetarian sushi and fancy desserts. Coffee and
bags filled with snacks were always at hand.
The Biff (an
acronym for Bathroom In Forest Floor) was a short hike from our
campsite. The rolling trail, cushioned as thick as carpet by the
fallen needles from fir and hemlock trees, was marked with rocks
and red ribbons tied to branches so we wouldn't get lost. We took
showers — spit baths, really — with solar-warmed fresh
water that hung in plastic bags from tree limbs. But our guides
were hardy souls. They took their biodegradable soap and bathed
in the 47-degree seawater.
Though it could
feel primitive, camping gave us experiences we wouldn't have had
in a lodge. At 3 o'clock one morning, Mandy and I rose to use the
Biff. As we left our tent, we saw the silhouette of Vancouver Island.
Stars glistened like millions of stationary fireflies. As we watched
and inhaled the crisp salt air, a cruise ship appeared from behind
an island to our right. Bedecked in strands of brilliant white lights
from bow to stern, it moved silently through the darkness on its
way toward Alaska, 300 miles distant.
There were other
magic moments: the sight of a thick sheet of fog sweeping over the
top of Vancouver Island, rolling down the hillside like a blanket
of white cotton batting. The sense of peace we found when waking
to the hypnotic cadence of waves hitting the shore or listening
to a bald eagle calling in a treetop high above the tents. Or walking
through tide pools in the early morning, coffee cup in hand, while
our guides pointed out anemones, limpets, sunflower stars, sea urchins
and sea cucumbers only a few feet from our camp. Our guides were
encyclopedias on the region, and they educated us each day while
we paddled through postcard inlets.
Wildlife
bonanza
On our first
day out, we practiced paddling around the 150-acre Compton Island.
The two-person, 21-foot boats were surprisingly stable, especially
when loaded with gear. Most of us were novice kayakers, but we quickly
fell into a comfortable rhythm. By the second day we were concentrating
less on steering the boats through the eggplant-colored sea kelp
and more on enjoying our surroundings.
We kayaked about
six hours a day — 8 nautical miles — through glassy waters,
paddling down Blackfish Sound and through Johnstone Strait. Along
the way, we stopped daily for lunch on one of the area's many uninhabited
islands.
 Nearly
everywhere we went we saw seals sunning themselves on rocks, salmon
springing into the air or porpoises swimming under our bows. British
Columbia has about 600 species of birds and mammals. And of course
there were whales, which we encountered nearly every day.
More than 200
orcas inhabit the waters from northern Vancouver Island to the southeast
tip of Alaska. Researchers can identify whales by the shape of their
dorsal fins and the saddle patch below the dorsal fin. In one of
our first orca sightings we saw Springer, an orphaned juvenile that
strayed to Puget Sound before being relocated back to her pod in
the Inside Passage. She had become so fond of following boats that
her surrogate mother had to repeatedly nudge her back to the pod.
 Whenever
we heard the radio announcement that whales were sighted, we jumped
into our kayaks quicker than firefighters on a three-alarm call.
Luke would drop a hydrophone into the water so we could hear them
clicking and singing — incredibly moving vocalizations. One
day we sat awed as five orcas came toward us. They were sleeping,
pressed together on the water's surface.
On Day 3 we
moved camp to Hanson Island to explore the waters beyond Compton.
Our campsite, Shaker Point, was near a rock outcrop overlooking
Johnstone Strait. At the end of our days, we congregated there and
shared stories, lounged in the late afternoon sun or read. At night
after dinner we gathered around a bonfire toasting marshmallows
as Joi played guitar and serenaded us.
A full moon
fell on the last night before our departure, so Mandy and I joined
the group on a midnight paddle to see the luminescent plankton that
thrive in the waters along the coastline. With the moon illuminating
our way, we tossed rocks into the water and watched the plankton
burst into a sparkling mass of colors, like underwater fireworks.
On our departure
day, the winds were so fierce we couldn't kayak, so we followed
Luke on a hike to the top of Hanson Island. We picked salmonberries
while he talked about the vegetation, land mammals, forestry and
native culture.
On our return
to camp we learned the water taxi that was to take us back to Port
McNeill was delayed. To pass the time, Joi strummed his guitar,
some read, others napped. I sat on the rocky ledge savoring the
panoramic view and thought about our six days. After the Inside
Passage, I'd say heaven has a hard act to follow.
Click
here for more info on Northern Lights Expeditions Inside Passage
Trips
GETTING
THERE:
Elan Travel
(800-969-6997) is a full-service travel agency in British Columbia,
Canada, and can help you with your travel arrangements from your
home to Port McNeill, B.C. They are familiar with Northern Lights
Expeditions trips and can get great rates from anywhere.
 From
LAX to Seattle, Alaska and United offer nonstop service. Southwest
offers direct flights (one stop). Restricted round-trip fares begin
at $178. Kenmore Air (www.kenmoreair.com) offers 3 hour sea plane
flights from Kenmore (north of Seattle) to Port McNeill.
To Vancouver,
Canada, Alaska and Air Canada offer nonstop flights, and United
has connecting service (change of plane). Restricted round-trip
fares begin at $167.70. Pacific Coastal Airlines (www.pacific-coastal.com)
offers daily flights from Vancouver to Port Hardy, B.C. Taxi service
is available from Port Hardy airport to Port McNeill, and is arranged
by Northern Lights Expeditions.
WHERE
TO STAY:
Haida-Way Inn,
1817 Campbell Way, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (800) 956-3373, http://www.pmhotels.com
. Modern 70-room hotel. Doubles from $48.
Broughton Manor,
P.O. Box 44, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (250) 956-4202, http://www.broughtonmanor.com
. A three-room B&B on the waterfront. Doubles $90-$104, including
breakfast.
Roseberry Manor,
810 Nimpkish Heights Drive, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (888) 956-7673,
http://www.bbcanada.com/roseberrymanorbb . A three-room B&B
in a wooded setting. Doubles $47-$68, including breakfast.
WHERE
TO EAT:
Northern Lights
Restaurant, 1817 Campbell Way, (250) 956-3263 (not affiliated with
the outfitter), is convenient because it is inside the Haida-Way
Inn. Dinner entrees $9.50-$18.
Sportsman Steak
& Pizza, 1547 Beach Drive, (250) 956-4113, has Italian, Greek
and Canadian food. Entrees $6-$22.
McNeill's Inn,
1597 Beach Drive; (866) 888-3466. Entrees $6.50-$11.
OUTFITTER:
Northern Lights
Expeditions, P.O. Box 4289, Bellingham, WA 98227; (800) 754-7402,
http://www.seakayaking.com . We went with this outfitter, which
offers a variety of trips along the British Columbia coast. A six-day
Inside Passage trip costs $1,299.
— Janet
Williams
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Janet Williams is a freelance writer living in Marin County.
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