Sea Kayaking the Broughton Archipelago

Tom: "I have three dry bags." In a string of emails planning this short sea kayak trip on the east coast of Vancouver Island, this one catches my attention. How exactly does one paddle on the ocean with just 3 dry bags? I consider myself a minimalist yet, between Doug and I, we probably have 10 times 3 dry bags. Perhaps Tom has three enormous dry bags? One of each fills the bow, stern and central compartments of his massive Seaward Passat double kayak.

Doug and I are on an extended trip back to Canada, but we have not come equipped to kayak. Back when we lived in the land of snow and ice where summer came on a Tuesday and was gone by Wednesday; for a dozen years, we spent one week a year paddling somewhere on the west coast. We paddled a double Feathercraft, a skin and frame kayak made in Canada, and, at the time one of the best "folding boats" on the market. But, it was a wet boat. Not like a wet bar, where drinks with umbrellas and olives are readily available, but wet as in we sat in a pool of ice cold sea water the entire trip as the deck and spray skirts dripped steadily.

The Feathercraft in shallow water in the Palau Islands

In hindsight, there were perhaps some other weird email conversations surrounding gear for our upcoming trip: "I could find a whistle, if I had to," and "I have a bicycle light but it doesn't like sea water", and even, perhaps most concerning "I don't have a map." But what is a sea kayak trip without a little adventure?

In the end, we did procure a map. And, by scrounging through our relatives recycling bins we managed to scrape together enough water containers to ensure we did not die of thirst while out on the water. British Columbia, despite being awash in water (rain) most of the time does not give up drinking water easily on the small islands kayakers usually visit. The plan,however, should a kayak paddle break was, and I quote Tom freely: "paddle with the non-broken half like in a canoe."

Flashback to kayak camp in Desolation Sound

The black blob is our 32 kg Labrador who came with us

Our destination was a group of closely packed islands known as the Broughton Archipelago on the protected east coast of Vancouver Island and on the edge of British Columbia's fjord country where deep inlets run east up towards some of British Columbia's highest and most remote mountains.

We drove north up Vancouver Island for hours crammed with a week's worth of kayaking gear in Tom's small car, occasionally stopping to reattach the kayaks to the car roof after various parts of the roof rack flew off and landed in the road ditch. Luckily, each time a piece of the roof rack was ejected there was a loud thud as it hit the car on the way past so we could pull over, retrieve it and reinstall the part back on the roof. The rain fell in sheets the entire time, but some how, miraculously cleared when we reached Alder Bay.

Alder Bay is a little further west than the better known Telegraph Cove which throngs with tourists during the short summer season, most of whom come to see the resident Orca Whales that summer in Johnstone Strait. The caravan park at Alder Bay charges a small launch fee and fee to park a car, but in exchange provides an easy kayak launch, drinking water, garbage facilities and showers after the trip.

Does this paddle make me look short?

We had no dry bags, Tom's three dry bags understandably being in use, so our system involved stuffing everything into plastic bin bags tied in knots then stored in Woolies-type reusable shopping bags. Somehow it worked, although this packing system made for an annoying week of continually opening and retying bin bags searching for the one item we needed right now from an array of indistinguishable bags.

Our kayak, kindly provided by Tom, was a monster of a boat. Nearly 3/4 of a metre wide and almost 7 metres long, the Seaward Passat certainly inspired confidence in its stability, although the marketing literature which described the boat as an "extremely fast racing tandem" did seem a bit hyperbolic. Doug and I were both equipped with 220 cm paddles, which necessitated a rather interesting paddle stroke much more like rowing a Viking long ship than paddling a sleek kayak.

It was late afternoon by the time we launched the boats and paddled out to Broughton Strait. Our current charts, which we were inexplicably organised enough to have (maybe as they were free), indicated we were starting out right at maximum flow through Weyton Passage, so we decided to make our destination for the night the Pearse Islands. Sometimes, I feel just getting away from the car on the first day of a trip is success enough.

First camp at the Pearse Islands

There was no wind, and, of course, no swell, but there was a tidal stream near the southwestern tip of the largest Pearse Islands, although once nearby, the current seemed to amount to little more than surface riffles. I've certainly been swept further off course when crossing to Montague Island from Narooma.

There are almost 10 little islands squashed together in a couple of square kilometres at the Pearse Islands and it was pleasant paddling through them. The current didn't seem to matter. If the tide was flowing the wrong way, we simply paddled in eddies along the shore line. We found a pretty little camp-site on a small peninsula and set up camp for the night.

Tom

Next morning, we got up early, 5.30 am, to catch slack current as we crossed Weyton Passage heading east. We managed to breakfast and pack in a lull between rain storms, and admittedly felt quite smug passing by another group of kayakers camped at the Plumper Islands and looking miserable in the steady rain.

We paddled perhaps 20 or 25 kilometres that day. After lunch the weather cleared and a watery sun came out. There were seals and sea eagles, tiny rocky islands covered with evergreen trees, bouldery bays, narrow passages. As we paddled north through Swanson Passage we entered into an ocean amphitheatre of small islands that had the most amazing echo. This kept us entertained for a full half hour as each cat-call was bounced back around half a dozen times, the volume gradually fading away with each bounce.

Misty Morning

Our camp that night was on Sedge Island tucked deep into a heavy dark cedar forest. It was a bit of a tough carry bringing the boats up from a dead low tide through slippery tidal rocks. There are no sandy beaches to land on when paddling the sheltered waterways of British Columbia. The bays, which Canadians call "beaches" are all rocky and hard on composite boats.

The weather next morning was gloomy with low cloud again. Somehow Tom managed to fall out of his boat and into the water when launching in the morning. It turned out that, despite his three monster dry bags, he only had one set of clothes, so he sat in wet clothes all day. We were heading south to Hanson Island area. Again, we paddled through passages and channels passing many small islands. Tom, who loves to chat, had discovered that we were perhaps too taciturn companions for him and engaged any and everyone we passed in long conversations. His opening gambits ranged from the common "Catching any fish?" to the desperate "That's a flat bottomed boat you have."

Tom, in search of more loquacious paddling partners

As we were crossing Blackney Sound we come upon a pod of Humpback Whales and a separate pod of dolphins. The dolphins are smaller than we species we commonly see around NSW but they were just as frisky, following along beside our kayaks for a long time. Tom had not seen either whales or dolphins from his kayak before so it was a real treat for him.

Gratuitous shot of False Killer Whales really close 

to my kayak on the south coast of NSW

We found a delightful camp-site on Little Hanson Island sitting up on a promontory overlooking Johnstone Strait. It was our last chance to see the resident Orcas before finishing the trip and this was a good spot to watch from.

It was hard to get the boats up as we had to land in a gulch between two small islets that are connected at low tide. While we were carrying loads, we took our eyes off the boats and the Seaward Passat gently glided out into the channel on the rising tide and, once in the current began swiftly slipping away from us bound for the middle of Johnstone Strait.

Another gratuitous shot, this one taken a 

couple of kilometres from our local beach

My intention to be the heroine of the day by striding out into the water to save the boat was quickly quashed when I saw that I would have to swim after the boat, not merely wade. BC water is cold! So while Tom and I watched wistfully from the shore, Doug, looking like a pallid, albeit skinny, David Hasselhoff stripped off his shirt and plunged into the water after boat. Any resemblance to Baywatch quickly disappeared, however, when he emerged white with cold and shivering from the water, but, with the Passat in tow.

This was our best camp as the sun came out and we spent the evening sitting on logs watching Humpback Whales in the current in Blackney Passage.

Excellent camp on Little Hanson Island

Our last day, we paddled west along the south side of Hanson Island to look at the sea kayak glamping sites. These are run by commercial sea kayak tour groups and the camps are pretty nice, situated on rock platforms with rain shelters. Sea kayaking is a really big thing in Canada.

Finally, we crossed to the south side of Johnstone Strait, paddled a lap through busy Telegraph Cove and ended up back at Alder Bay, just before the next round of rain set in.