The magazine of outdoor recreation and adventure on Vancouver Island and coastal British Columbia
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The magazine of outdoor recreation and adventure on Vancouver Island and coastal British Columbia |
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By John Kimantas / March 2007 Spend enough time in the outdoors and you're bound to make a few mistakes. For those starting out it's usually errors of neglect, such as forgetting something like tent poles, or maybe carelessness, such as watching as your only roll of toilet paper gently rolls down the beach towards the tide line while you're otherwise indisposed (hint: pack things in twos).
Then there are the problems that, no matter how hard you try, you simply can't anticipate. For instance, partway during an expedition last year I had aluminum tent poles that corroded from saltwater and permanently fused together. Trust me, it's not easy to pack something eight feet long into a kayak. Lastly there are the problems you create for yourself when you should know better. Take, for instance, a trip last spring to the outer Gulf Islands . Saturna Island has long been one of my favourite kayaking destinations. It's the easternmost of Gulf Islands , and if you reach it and travel any farther east, north or south, you'll fall off the edge of Canada and land in the United States . The island's south side is, quite simply, spectacular. Thousands of years ago a violent upheaval in the earth's crust formed a gently sloping north face and dramatic cliffs to the south, particularly at Monarch Head arguably the prettiest cliffs in the Gulf Islands . Next to Monarch Head is a charming little unnamed cove, a tiny indent between the cliffs of Monarch Head and Narvaez Bay . The first time I arrived I paddled into the cove marveling at the sandstone cliffs on both sides and the perfect turquoise water. A trail at a little beach at the head of the cove leads along the headland above the cliffs to the outside edge of the cove. It has a magical air, broken only by the sign nailed to one of the trees: Tree farm, private property, no trespassing. Fortunately the sign is a vestige from the past, as the entire area is now part of the Gulf Islands National Park reserve. In fact, just about half the land mass of the park, created in 2003, is on Saturna Island . A favourite place of mine is Taylor Point and Bruce Bight, where a sweeping beach behind the bight is perfect for landing a kayak. The property was a pioneer quarry and memories of that past are sprinkled throughout the area, including an old homestead with a shed out back. The shed had been insulated with newspapers; the date on one of the articles was 1911. Behind the homestead is a field and old-growth Douglas-fir forest used by cattle. These aren't your regular cows, though. During one visit with my son several years ago we were wandering through the old trees and came upon the herd. Ahead of us stood one particularly large brute with even larger horns stared at us with a malicious eye. Deciding we didn't want to try our fate as wilderness matadors we quietly turned around and went back to the beach, half expecting the sound of charging hooves coming from behind. The Gulf Islands National Park protects 4 km of the waterfront at Taylor Point , making it the longest protected shoreline in the Gulf Islands . It's one of those rare places best explored by kayak. It can be reached by foot, but it's not easy. Unsanctioned trails run down Brown Ridge to Taylor Point , but are steep and can be dangerous, so the national park discourages their use. A road that went to Narvaez Bay is now gated, so feet, bicycles or boats are the only way to reach Narvaez Bay and that magical little cove. The east end of Saturna Island is aptly named East Point , where abandoned lighthouse dwellings sit upon what is now a regional park. The grassy headland is perfect for a stroll, and a beach at the park's west end allows kayakers to survey the outer waters before rounding the point something well advised, as conditions can be ugly on the outer waters where the currents as high as 5 knots from Boundary Pass clash with the water in the Strait of Georgia. Off East Point sits Boiling Reef, the name a nod to the conditions you're likely to encounter. Away from this drama, just to the northwest of East Point , are two more magnificent islands Tumbo and Cabbage islands also part of the Gulf Islands National Park . Cabbage, the smaller of the two, is surrounded by clam and oyster beds and a good sand beach on the south side. This was our destination last spring, and our problems began when we rounded the outside of Saturna Island and found ourselves battling a strong headwind. We arrived far more tired than we had hoped, but things improved after we set up camp and began to happily shuck oysters for an evening feast. There's always a danger in feasting, getting sleepy then deciding to tidy up the camp in the morning. I should have known better. Usually raccoons are the opportunists, preying on inexperienced campers, but on Cabbage Island it was otters. We listened in the middle of the night as our site was ransacked plates tossed about and cans ripped from our shredded tied-up garbage bag. They must have spent half the night jumping up and clawing at it. The next morning we had to forage the beach looking for debris scattered in a swath wide enough to show just how good a time those otters had. We vowed to be clean up before bed the next night. Spring can be a wonderful time to travel the Gulf Islands, as the days are long and the crowds few, but you always take a chance with the weather. On our third day out we walked the trails of Tumbo Island and relaxed on a long beach and picked through the pebbles looking for worthwhile rocks. Leanne collects rocks, so this makes sense to her, and I tried to help, but without much luck. Clouds and wind put a damper on the day, and that night we listened as wind roared through the nearby trees. We could hear it roll across the island before finally touching down on our tent. On our return trip wind wasn't the problem. It turned out to be a tiny passage on the west end of Saturna Island called Boat Passage. It's prone to rapids, but being an experienced kayaker I was sure it wouldn't be a problem. We arrived to find a fairly strong current against us. I edged forward in the calm water along the rocks and decided I could probably beat it by paddling hard. No such luck. As soon as the nose of my kayak hit the current I was washed backwards, straight towards rapids set just off the passage. I turned the kayak as quickly as I could to take the waves head on, and yelled to my partner to keep clear. Too late! She trusted me too much as a guide and followed me right in into the current. Instead of being forced into the rips, she was taken across the passage and thrown onto some rocks on the far side. She sat there, suspended on a semi-submerged rock, until finally the current pushed her free. Shaken, we regrouped to discuss our options and then decided to take the longer but calmer route around Samuel Island instead. It gave me time to think about how foolish the choice I had made. After paddling just about the entire B.C. coast, from Victoria to the Alaskan border and back, I came closer to disaster on a weekend trip to trusty old Cabbage Island than I had just about anywhere else on the coast. Oh, the foolish things we can do in the wilderness when we're not paying attention. This article originally appeared in More Living Magazine. |
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My favourite beginner's error is the fellow who tied his kayak up to a drift log for safety, then had both the kayak and the drift log float away overnight. 