View from the kayakers' campsite at Halkett Bay Provincial Park on Gambier Island. Bowen Island is in the distance.
Howe Sound by Kayak
Nature abounds on and around the many and varied islands just west of Vancouver
This story appeared in The Vancouver Sun, Travel June 22, 2004
BC is a nature lover's paradise. For adventurers chained to their desks who can rarely co-ordinate their schedules with friends, or those with more leisure time than chums, activities groups are an ideal way to help yourself to a healthy portion without any fuss.
David Mitchell, a Vancouver-based I-T consultant, started the Vancouver Activities Mailing List, a free, automated e-mail list, so that people who might otherwise never meet could get together as a group to enjoy sports and activities in common. Whoever had time to organize a trip posted an e-mail. Whoever was interested replied. This is how our motley group came together for weekend jaunts kayaking B.C. waters.
On this second annual weekend wilderness getaway, there were 14 of us, including Bowen Island Kayaking guides Mike and Sue, a transplanted American and an Ontarian.
There was David, whom you just met above; Jim, master group-rate negotiator and paramedic; and Philip, an industrial mechanic who used to tow logs behind his kayak -- just for fun. There was Kathy, a graphic designer; Karen the nurse; Celene, whose tanned and toned arms made mine look pale in comparison; and her new beau Gord, an engineer. On last year's trip, he climbed nine metres up the slippery sides of a waterfall with no climbing gear. Marianne, high-tech manager, and Doug, teacher and budding entrepreneur, were new to the trip; while Nicole was in the midst of finding a new career. Janet was the group's bird expert and I, a journalist, was going to play cook.
This year, our getaway was a convenient 20-minute ferry ride from Horseshoe Bay, but it had all the promise of a remote wilderness adventure. We'd be exploring the clusters of islands, islets and channels in Howe Sound, home to bald eagles, black-tailed deer and harbour seals. Howe Sound is, of course, the intensely scenic body of water that makes up the "Sea" part of the Sea to Sky highway between Horseshoe Bay and Squamish. The highway lies on steep mountain slopes perforated with rivers and small streams that pump fresh water into the inlet from the east. To the inlet's northwest is the Sunshine Coast.
We take the 8 a.m. ferry to Bowen Island, the second largest in the sound. There, we load our kayaks and head northwest for the biggest island, Gambier. There is a variety of serene paddling in and around the numerous bays dotting these two islands. There are also the smaller islands between and around them: Keats, Hermit, Popham, Pasley, Worlcombe and Hutt -- all named, as is the sound itself, by Captain George Vancouver after admirals, captains and knights.
But we have bigger plans: the seal sanctuary and bird colony farther north into the 42-kilometre inlet. It involves a laborious six-hour paddle back against the current and 20-knot winds, but our group of relatively experienced kayakers was betting it would be worth the sore arms.
I pair up with David to take my turn in a double and soon we discover that the best way to pass a spicy chicken wing to the rear person in the kayak is by way of paddle. It's so much fun, I pass him another one from my bagged lunch, and apologize to Philip who zooms over in an attempt to get one himself. (Later I would learn this lesson: Always share with the person who can paddle a dozen metres to you before the words "chicken wing" leave your lips. He just might have boundless energy and a handy towrope to help you out in a tough paddle back because you are freezing from having stupidly jumped into waist-deep water to go for a pee on shore thinking there's only another hour and half to go and then the wind picks up again.)
The 12-kilometre paddle to our campsite on Gambier Island is soothing, with a cooperative current and a slight breeze at our backs. The water is calm, and orange-barked arbutus trees -- found along southwestern B.C. coastal waters -- adorn Gambier's rugged coastline as we hug it north to the uninhabited provincial park at Halkett Bay.
Home to bald eagles, western red-backed salamander, northern flying squirrels, black-tailed deer, marten, mink and raccoon, the wilderness campsite welcomes us with a dock and a single outhouse. We set up camp, while Philip, who has been doing circles around everyone in the water, climbs more than six metres up several giant western cedar trees to tie a tarp over the picnic table, just in case the intermittent clouds turn into rain. They don't.
After lunch, we take on Mount Artaban, the second-highest peak in the sound. Mike, one of the guides, advises us to wear pants. Although well-marked, the trail is full of wild bushes and plants that can scratch your legs. David gets a bloodied shin from slipping on loose rock, but it's not serious enough to make use of any of our four first-aid experts. The rest of us -- mostly in pants -- hike through without incident, winding our way west then east, doing a half diamond up to the summit five kilometres away. We see wild foxglove, and huge Douglas firs, western cedars, alders and maples, whose blackened bark stand as evidence of past forest fires.
Up top, we take in a view of Howe Sound where a B.C. forest service lookout tower once perched. Because of the cloudy haze, the view isn't spectacular, especially compared with the panoramic view at the top of Stawamus Chief just south of Squamish. Still, the four-hour return hike allows us to get to know each other better in a way that only group treks in the woods can.
For instance, we find out that Jim had been a prison guard before becoming a paramedic. In fact, he was voted by his peers during his six-month training program as the most likely to NOT survive a prison riot. Why's that? "Because I would have taunted anyone who would have provoked me," he deadpans.
Active tides and a continuous supply of fresh water into the sound makes for some of the cleanest and clearest water I've seen along the islands' shores -- despite past pollution from surrounding pulp mills and the leaching of heavy metals from Britannia mine. Water quality is improving and it's a delicious swim after a sweaty hike.
For dinner, it's spaghettini with fresh basil, tomatoes, leek, garlic and olive oil; Greek salad; blackened Cajun chicken and wine savoured under the dim light of miniature candle lanterns.
We take the dessert brownies to the shore rocks for a little after-dinner conversation. High tide has turned a large rock on the sandy beach into a poetic islet with a single tree sitting at its centre.
Pam Rocks, where the seal colony and nearby bird sanctuary are to be found, are another eight kilometres from our camp. But after only a few minutes of paddling Sunday, we encounter a female seal and her pup sunning themselves along Gambier's rocky coastline. Shiny grey heads of several more disappear into the water as we draw near. I wonder if seals are strong enough to flip over a kayak.
Gambier's eastern coast is an interesting collage of unexpected splashes of colour: Orange bark on arbutus trees and what I first think is neon purple seaweed turns out to be starfish. The seagulls grab them with their beaks and swallow them. Then just around the corner, we almost have a multiple kayak collision. Behind an arbutus tree, is an adult black-tailed deer staring down at us as we look up in awe a mere four metres away.
Despite tales of abundant wildlife in any wilderness getaway, you always feel a little cheated if you don't get to experience it yourself. We were getting the full-meal deal. Would Pam Rocks also deliver on its promise of seals and birds galore? To get there, we have to cross the Ramillies Channel. And again, there's no lack of wildlife to observe as we do.
A family of seabirds glides across the water ahead of us, careful not to let us get too close. Janet, the birdwatcher, explains that they are mergansers, fish-diving ducks. Bald eagles and vultures soar above. Life is good.
Two soul-soothing hours later, we don't need to ask if we've arrived at Pam Rocks. We are literally surrounded by harbour seals -- playing in the water or sunning themselves on the grouping of rocks, several feet apart.
Mike says he's never seen seals here before, despite its renown as a seal colony, but it was high tide then when the rocks were under water.
Cormorants fly overhead as we spot a gaggle of oystercatchers with long red beaks singing loudly on the largest of the rocks. Kingfishers and sandpipers join in their song.