John Owrid finds the rugged beauty of Vancouver Island’s Kyuquot Sound is best savoured on a camping and kayak adventure.
The VHF radio crackled noisily as our water taxi pulled away from the jetty. The look on the driver’s face completed the words eaten by the static interference. ‘‘There’s a fishing boat missing,’’ he said. ‘‘A small boat, probably turned by a freak wave.’’
These are probably the last words you want to hear at the start of a family sea-kayaking adventure on the edge of the world’s largest ocean yet, perversely, they added an appropriate touch of gravitas to our undertaking.
Our four-day trip was the highlight of a fortnight on Vancouver Island, which we’d largely spent on the sheltered coast that faces mainland Canada. The other coast, lining the island’s western perimeter, is its mirror opposite. Overlooking the Pacific Ocean, it is exposed to every meteorological element in the book, from raking wind and surf to dense banks of fog.
Our destination was Spring Island, perched on the mouth of Kyuquot Sound, high on the north-west coast. Uninhabited during the winter, in summer the island becomes a camp and a base for exploring enchanted temperate rainforests and glassy waters teeming with sea otters.
From the prow of our water taxi our destination initially appeared devoid of signs of civilisation. Yet as the engines calmed to a mechanical purr, we entered a small bay where the shoreline was sparsely punctuated by the familiar triangular shapes of tents – our shelter for the next few days.
Once our party had unloaded onto the pebbled beach, all preconceptions about camping on an island were dismantled peg by peg. The settlement we’d reached wasn’t just a camp but an architectural triumph, largely sculpted from materials brought in on the tide.
Washed-up timber posts supported a clear tarpaulin-clad kayaking equipment store, kitchen and dining area. Bleached seashells lined pathways and strategically placed solar panels provided enough energy to make the appeal of the outdoor shower irresistible.
It would be an insult to the inventiveness of the place to call this temporary accommodation yet everything we could see would be gone by the end of summer. It was as if our host’s goal was to leave not the faintest trace of occupancy.
Our own goal was to spend time on the water, yet we’d also heard that the island’s interior repaid serious investigation. And so it proved. Following a trail that was imperceptible to all but the highly trained eye, our guides led us into a densely green arboreal wonderland covered with ferns, moss and lichen. The cedars that formed the spine of this forest are estimated to be at least 1000 years old and, judging by their ample girth (sometimes of more than 20 metres), are still in rude health.
The beauty of this everglade was obvious enough, though its more magical properties are revealed only by years of study. Luckily, our guides weren’t just able route masters but masters in the botanical secrets of the forest. Plucking a stringy piece of lichen from one cedar tree, they explained how this particular species (known as old man’s beard) provided antiseptic healing properties when wrapped tightly around a flesh wound.
The morning of our first kayaking excursion arrived with a signature coastal mist, which was good news for the less-confident members of our party because the lack of wind meant calmer waters. The restricted vision was also a boon to the art of propelling a double kayak, as it meant fewer visual distractions from the challenge of keeping rhythm with the person in front. As the colours of sky and sea melded into a gunmetal grey, our small armada of vessels snaked around the rocky outline of our island in search of sea otters.
On previous trips to Canada, the sight of a sea otter was always a noteworthy event. Hunted to the edge of extinction, these super-furry mammals have been making a slow journey back to critical mass.
Fortunately for us, the waters of Kyuquot Sound have become the launch pads for this survival mission. As our flotilla edged into more open water, what initially seemed yet another stretch of kelp undulating with the swell quickly became an entire raft of otters.
As many as 100 bobbing heads formed a line broken by occasional splashes whenever one lost, and attempted to regain, its place.
If there’d been any reservation that kayaking might prove a laborious form of water transport, the next few days capsized the notion. As the weather cleared to a series of golden days, our party took to the water each morning with an expectation of seeing the familiar from a new perspective. By the time our water taxi returned to collect us, we’d acquired the confidence of people who have tamed an unfamiliar world – though this was a conceit, as we learnt on discovering from our taxi driver that the fishing boat that went missing at the start of our trip had now been found, without any survivors.
Trip notes
Getting there
Air Canada flies direct from Sydney to Vancouver priced from $2730. 1300 655 767, aircanada.com. Hire a car at the airport. From Fair Harbour you can get a water taxi to take you to Spring Island.
+1 250 332 5301,
voyagerwatertaxi.com.
Touring there
West Coast Expeditions runs four-, five- and seven-day kayaking trips in Kyuquot Sound between mid-June and mid-September, priced from $C1399 ($1350) a person, twin share. +1 250 338 2511, westcoastexpeditions.com.
Staying there
Inn at Laurel Point, on the Inner Harbour, has doubles from $C149 a night and is the best base for a trip up the island. +1 250 386 8721, laurelpoint.com.
Wickaninnish Inn on the west coast has doubles from$C300 a night. +1 250 725 3100, wickinn.com.
The boutique Abigail’s Hotel in Victoria has 23 charming rooms, from$C323 a right.
+1 250 388 5363, abigailshotel.com.
When to go
Wildlife viewing is at its best between the end of May and the middle of September.
More information
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