Graham Island, West Coast Blues

It tested us and we’d barely rounded Cape Knox and headed south. It was a grey day not a lot of wind, much less than forecast, but a good 3m swell and poor visibility, probably only a km. The first West Coast since getting trashed in Christmas Cove 15 months ago. The offshore rocks of Cape Knox were being pummeled by massive breakers and plumes of spray as the swell rolled in from the west. We kept well off shore and turned east into Lepas Bay heading for the NE corner where behind a small island we knew from the guide book there was sheltered landing and camping. 

As we constantly do when paddling an unknown coastline we were scouting for alternative landing spots in case the weather, a problem with the kayak or some other issue means you have get ashore in a hurry. Quite often our quiet paddling reverie is broken by one of us commenting on a landing place one of us has noticed. 

As we closed in on the gap between the island and the shore the swells started steepening up alarmingly, the occasional larger one even having a small white horses along their crests, then they just seemed to just dissipate into nothing but a bit of messy water. We’d had a wary eye on the ~200m gap since we could first see it and we’d not seen any breaking across the opening but it would be an ‘interesting’ few minutes to get there and through into shelter. Becoming a tad concerned, Lynne particular so, we turned away not liking the look of it at all and headed out to go around the outside of island but not only did the outer surf line on the beach look only just inshore of the island but the occasional swell in our path around the island was peaking with white water a little more than the ones we’d just left.

Let’s get out of here.

Back to the easy landing beach we’d passed and commented on only half a km behind us. For us an easy landing beach in this part of the world is steep and pebbly with no offshore rocks at low tide, steep means less distance from the water to the high tide line and the kayak slides smoothly on the pebbles. Offshore rocks at low tide often make it impossible for us land or launch. Our camp a few days ago at Christie River was very rocky, we could only launch from the beach about 2hrs each side of high tide. The morning we left high tide was at 3am, we were on the water at 5am!

The sheltered little cove we’d spotted was perfect, surf plopping on a short stretch of sand then steep pebbles to the high tide line and the usual jumble of driftwood. It was also quite hidden, if one us had not looked back over their shoulder we would probably have missed it. 

The situation was a classic case of ‘guidebookitus’. If we hadn’t had the guide book information, we would have taken more notice of the map and spotted the little cove as a likely sheltered landing place in the conditions that day and headed straight for it, avoiding the steepening swells in the corner of the bay completely. 

On the other hand though the guide book information could have been a life saver despite the approach to the gap. If there were no other options. 

That night lying sleepless for what seemed hours I decided we should change our plans and head back to Masset and not paddle the West Coast of Haida Gwaii at all. I felt too intimidated by the unknown and exposed coast ahead, we’d had rudder problems and the boat leaks so there’s a greater chance our gear and food getting wet. The headwinds from Masset meant we had taken a lot longer to get this far then we’d anticipated. We’ve plenty of food at the moment but if, which is likely, we get held up by the weather again those stocks are diminishing further with no progress. 

All this and more churned through my mind during the night. Have we just lost our nerve? To use an awfully un-PC term - perhaps we don’t have the balls to take on such coasts any more?

The alarm went off at 5, Lynne stirred and looked out the tent, visibility still a few hundred meters, the thick fog that had rolled in yesterday afternoon hadn’t cleared. The forecast was 15-25kn NW, so possibly a bit too wild, even sailing downwind if it reaches 25kn.

Without saying anything we both turned over and went back to sleep. 

Over coffee I broached my plan to return to Masset, Lynne was surprised, we talked it all through and as is often the case we left it for the weather the next day to decide. 

We have now acclimatised to the fog, visibility has been between 300 and 500m all day apart from a glorious few hours of hot sun in the afternoon.

The next morning on the water at 7 with the fog clearing slightly, we could just make out the southern side of Lepas Bay 4km away. The swell had dropped too. As we crossed the bay the visibility improved even more, still low cloud but it enabled us to paddle through the area of rocks, reefs and boomers that we planned to avoid if the fog had not cleared. By the time we reached the beautiful sweeping sandy beach of Peril Bay it was lunchtime. The low cloud had cleared completely so we sat steaming in glorious hot sunshine. 

From there to camp at Tian Bay was a fast down wind run, as the NWesterly picked up. First with both sails then as the wind and sea built one sail came down to make things a bit more controlled and sensible. As we turned SE around Tian Rock the wind died away almost completely so the second sail went back up. Within 10mins the wind was back again with vengeance, 25kn plus, the second sail came down pretty quickly as suddenly things were getting a bit wild. The remaining sail was strung so tight it was vibrating with humming sound as we closed in on the gap between the Tian Islets and the mainland. A prayer went out to the sea Gods that we’d be able to get through the narrow gap and into the lee of the Islets and not have to paddle out around the them in these conditions. 

An off shore rock and the offset between the reef stretching out from the mainland and the Islets allowed us through and suddenly we were in calmer water. 

The next morning the fog reduced visibility to a couple of hundred metres so we felt our way along the coast and then followed a compass bearing across to Louis Point. Visibility improved somewhat, it is nice see where we we going but the mountains and distant views were still thickly shrouded in cloud. We were both feeling tired and the rebound off Louis Point wasn’t helping so we turned into Athlow Bay and found a sheltered beach to land and set up camp. Following a pattern we’d experienced on previous days the fog cleared for a few hours of glorious hot sunshine in the afternoon as snoozed on the beach. 

The daily chore of readying the next days maps. 

A lovely steady NW wind the next day enabled us to cross Rennell Sound easily and quickly and we realised how close we were to Skidegate Inlet and end of the circumnavigation of Graham Island. 

The forecast the next day couldn’t have been better, 10-15kn NWesterlies so not was Skidegate Inlet in reach but if it kept up all day we’d be well on our way back to Queen Charlotte City. Kept up it did too, both sails were up all day and as the wind funnelled up Skidegate Inlet we were moving along at 10kph without paddling. Now to tackle the Skidegate Narrows the very narrow channel separating Graham Is from Moresby Island. The slack water times in the guide book didn’t seem to match our observations and our attempt to calculate the timing and direction of the tidal flow in the Channel given the widely different tidal ranges between the east and west coasts just confused us more. 

The first peek from the tent early the next morning and the flow in the Channel was easterly. Quick let’s go! We ready to launch about 7.30, just in time to see the flow reverse and head west. Oh well, it might mean an uphill paddle for 4 or 5kms until the Inlet widened but at least now we know relative to LW at Queen Charlotte when the flow changes direction. 

We’d waved to a solo paddler as we’d shot downwind in Skidegate Inlet yesterday and waved again as they passed while we were packing our kayak this morning. An hour or so later as the Inlet widened we could see them ahead and slowly but surely we caught them up. The next hour or more all the way the beach in Charlotte we chatted to Jonny. It was great to chat to a local and a paddler too. We’d read quite a lot about Haida Gwaii but of the more you read the more questions there are. Jonny lived in Charlotte with is partner Steph and young family who were on the beach to meet us. Jonny offered to drive us and our gear up to the campground. It was only a couple of blocks but an offer that was readily accepted as one gets a little tired of the drudgery of multiple trips carting gear and food backwards and forwards between kayak and camp. 

It turned out we’d landed back in Charlotte on just the perfect day. It was Hospital Day, an annual day of celebration and fund raising for Charlotte Hospital that started in 1908 to fund the very first Hospital in Charlotte. More importantly today was a pole raising day, a ‘monumental’ pole was be raised in front of the brand new Charlotte Hospital at 4pm. A significant event in itself but particularly so now as Haida art, like the people themselves, almost became extinct during the colonial era is making a strong comeback. This pole is the first to be raised in the Charlotte area for 200 years. 

We hurriedly set up camp and not so hurriedly had hot showers, bliss, and walked into town. It was buzzing with all usual activity of similar community days the world over. 

The pole though resting at 45deg on a framework of massive logs and festooned with ropes and pulleys was something very special. 

The design of the Medicine Pole represents welcoming, healing, unity and traditional and Western healing practices. 

All the Elders and Chiefs were introduced and ceremonies to bring life to the pole were carried out then  hundreds of people, locals, Haida and tourists grasped the thick ropes and heaved it upright. It was a wonderful thing!

Locals, Haida and tourists alike hauling the pole upright. 

Many of the Haida were beautifully dressed in traditional clothing including these woven cedar bark hats.