By John Kimantas / May 2001

There's a gem hidden deep in the forests of Vancouver Island - and uncovering it can be quite an adventure.

Such gems should be no surprise to those who know Vancouver Island. Paddlers should be familiar with the warm and placid Gulf Islands on the southeast coast, or the more wild Broken Islands on the West Coast, or even Telegraph Cove and its killer whales to the north.

What most paddlers don't know, however, is to travel inland to explore the Island. Too many campers and trailers wind their way along the shorelines, hopping port to port, from Victoria in the south to Pacific Rim National Park in the west. But Vancouver Island is Canada's playground for those in the know, with top whitewater rafting (try the Nimpkish or Chemainus rivers), some of the best spelunking in the world in hundreds of caves near Gold River, and some of the best rock climbing, mountain climbing and hiking imaginable in Strathcona Park - the home of the Island's highest mountain ranges.

And probably the most under-rated attraction of them all is Della Falls, the tallest waterfall in Canada.

Della Falls is a secret even to most Vancouver Islanders, and for good reason. It sits deep in the heart of a vast wildnerness area on the southern edge of Strathcona Park. It's so inaccessible there's no direct road access; those who want to take in the falls must approach it from Great Central Lake, a huge body of water north of Port Alberni that in turn is accessible only by a maze of logging roads.

Great Central Lake is a paddler's paradise - wide and bordered by imposing mountains, secluded and, if one ignores the helicopter logging, relatively pristine.

There are only a few entry points to the lake. One is the Ark Resort, which also has canoe and motor boat rentals, and another is Scout Beach, a forestry campsite a little farther north along Great Central Lake.

Once you pass Scout Beach, there's little else - a few cabins dotting the waterfront, some logging stations and just you, your paddles and the wilderness.

Great Central Lake has one fault. The steep slopes, rocky shore and thick foliage make picnic sites few and far between. You may find yourself having lunch on a rocky outcropping with your canoe nestled in amongst some rocks.

Great Central Lake is perhaps thirty miles end to end, and there are only a few camping areas of any real merit. Two campsites stand out. Both these campsites are set on flat outcroppings bordered on three sides by water. Trees - mostly hemlock in this part of the island - provide cover but don't obstruct the views of the nearby mountains soaring toward the north end of the lake - the eventual goal. Both camping areas have room for a good many campers and still provide lots of privacy, though we were alone most of our journey.

The first campsite is a headland on the east beyond the ‘hook' where Great Central Lake turns northward. The second is a little farther north, only a paddle of an hour or two from the trailhead which leads to Della Falls. An official campground at the trailhead to Drinkwater Creek isn't nearly as pretty, and is also prone to be home to a tremendous number of mosquitoes.

The base camp does, however, have the advantage of toilet facilities (easily under-rated until you spend a day or two in the bush), a canoe rack and a bear-proof storage area for food. That's a nice touch if you don't want to cart everything up the trail.

And yes, there's a trail. That's beauty of this trip. Della is so secluded that after the paddle you must hike in the rest. And it's not a casual hike either. It's at least a two-day, best as a three-day journey even after the paddle, making it a truly multidimensional trip.

The trail, in the beginning, is wide and relatively level, though you are always gaining elevation. How much you gain is almost misleading as the hours pass, because soon you'll find yourself in snow.

How much snow you find depends on the past winter. When we arrived the heavy prior winter had damaged a number of bridges, though all were passable but one. We donned backpacks at the trailhead and stored the canoe away on the conveniently constructed rack. Our plan was to camp at the so-called main camp after the first night of hiking. There are other camps lower down, but the main camp seemed a good target. In the end it proved to be too far - and that was a good thing. Two other hikers returning from the falls were camped alongside a sandy strip next to Drinkwater Creek. They informed us that the main camp was still under about six feet of snow (it was August 23 when we arrived). We took their offer to camp in the sand near them, and were even more glad to take their offer of sharing their fire. They also had good tips for the journey ahead, which would be mostly on snow. Enough snow remained, we found the next day, that even under the heat of a blazing summer sun the main campsite's outhouse was almost completely buried. You know you're in the world of the offbeat when your campground is snowed under in late August.

Our goal became visible early the second day of hiking. While walking along a snowy expanse we got our first sighting of Della Falls - and it is spectacular. At 440 metres, it's the tallest waterfall in the country, made more picturesque by the various cascading tiers that appear like ribbons of water from a distance.

Views became more frequent as we neared, and soon the waterfall loomed above us. We could actually sit on rocks 20 feet away and stay dry. I asked my 13-year-old son if it was worth the trouble to get here. He could only smile, hold up his thumb and in a worldly, street-wise way say, “Oh yeah.”

The return trip on the trail is generally a breeze. On the paddle back the first clouds of the trip appeared, which was a blessing after the blistering sun of the past three days. But the wind picked up as well, and blew us back to the Jeep in less than half the speed it took to arrive. We were relieved to not have to fight against the wind, but I would have been content with a longer, calmer paddle. After all, with the Jeep loaded again and the engine warming up, we were once again back to relying on machines to convey us.

If you ever want to leave that feeling behind, the trip to Della Falls - a trip that needs both paddles and feet - is the cure. And be sure to bring along a 13-year-old. The thumbs up that you get at the falls will be worth it.

This article originally appeared in Kanawa Magazine.