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. 

The North Coast and Beyond

Stocking up with food in Masset for the next stage around the NW tip of Graham Island and down the West Coast was easy, such a big supermarket for such a small place. It had everything we needed, even huge hot slices of pizza piled up with meat and cheese to takeaway for $2.99. I ate two in the time it takes to read this sentence and could have gone back for more. 

Thursday, morning we were up and about in the drizzle loading Meredith’s Mercedes with all our our food and gear. We pulled away from the slipway at about 9 and out into Masset Sound. The Sound is at most 1km wide and 35kms long, the entrance to Masset and Juskatla Inlets, a huge body of water that has been called Haida Gwaii’s ‘inland sea’. The two Inlets would have a combined area of at least 200km sq so the Sound is basically a big tidal ‘river’ with currents particularly on the ebb of 7kns or more. As we pulled into the ebbing current taking us north out to open sea we also had a 10-12kn headwind. It was a very strange experience working quite hard into the NW wind and choppy sea, yet watching the land wizz by 3kn faster than our paddling speed. 

The NW winds slowed our progress over the next few days but the days we’re generally sunny, clear and warm, with no rain!

Sunday morning we were on the water at 6am and few kms west the ebbing current started drawing us with increasing speed through Parry Passage between the mainland of Graham Is and Langara Is. We pulled out of the current to check the weather on the VHF. In Canadian waters, the same as US the marine forecast is broadcast continually 24/7 on one of ten WX channels. You just scroll through the channels until you find the channel for your location, then listen through the recorded loop until you hear the sea areas you’re interested in. 

The forecast wasn’t brilliant, moderate Westerlies in the morning but strengthening substantially in the afternoon. Given the forecast and paucity of sheltered landing spots as we headed down the West Coast it was looking like we’d be camping early to wait for better weather, either on the north side of Cape Knox or around the Cape in Lepas Bay where we knew they was shelter. 

Some of these possible landing and camping spots require permission from the Haida so we called in to Kiusta Indian Reserve where Haida Watchmen are based through the summer. The Haida Watchmen keep an eye on the area, their clan land. Protocol expects a call ashore on Channel 6 to ask permission to land, this we did and we were greeted on the beach by the two Watchmen. They had mentioned on the radio there was no access to Lepas Bay at the moment. They offered us coffee and we swapped stories of our travels, respective families and their life on Haida Gwaii. Incongruously a few kms north across Parry Passage from their rudimentary hut at Kiusta, Henslung Cove on Langara Island heaved with massive buildings, dozens of boats and helicopters. Fishing lodges full of ‘sporties’ as we’d already learned to call them. The previous clear blue sky days from Masset has been marred by large helicopters flying overhead every 30 mins or so. The Watchmen explained each one held 16 people, cashed up and I mean really cashed up people from all over the world come to assist in the further depletion of the fish stocks in Haida waters. “Haida Pirates” the Watchmen called them. A couple of days before we counted twenty runabouts full of ‘sporties’ off one headland alone. As we talked they relaxed and said we could access and camp at Lepas Bay if we needed to. 

At low tide Lepas Bay provided us with the largest mussels we’ve ever seen. 

Canada

Canada is new country to us. A couple of times over the years we’ve spent a few days here, passing through really so no time to get an impression of the place and the people. The accepted stereotypical view of the country seems to be boring but nice as well of course as being a sane version of the United States - gun control and free health care for example. In addition British Columbia alone offers a few lifetimes of outdoor adventure opportunities of every conceivable type. Just on those first impressions what’s not to like?

On the day we arrived we’d driven from Vancouver to Port Hardy at the northern tip of Vancouver Island and rushed into the supermarket to grab some food. As I was trying to figure out the different coins at the checkout I apologised and mentioned we’d barely been in the country 12 hrs. “Oh, well, welcome to our little town” was the very genuine response from the woman at the till. In our admittedly very brief drive through Port Hardy it looked like a dump to me, rundown and tatty with a number of closed and boarded up businesses but can you imagine having such an interaction in a small town in Tasmania?

We’re camped at Masset’s Hidden Island RV Resort, the first night here we were heading in to town to eat so Lynne popped into the office to ask where they would recommend. Within seconds they’d poured us both a glass of wine, and were passing dips and cheese platters across the table to us. 

We like Canada!

Monday evening we caught up with Meredith and her family who live along North Beach not far from Masset. A Tasmanian friend put us in contact and we had a wonderful evening getting a feel for living on Haida Gwaii, drinking wine and solving all the world’s problems. Meredith is the skipper of the inshore rescue boat based in Masset and has roamed the world on boats and ships of all sizes. Great times. She lent us an old battered rusty Mercedes which enabled us to roam a little wider than otherwise and made the shopping and carrying everything back to the kayak so much easier. Thank you Meredith!

Just about everyone we’ve met on Haida Gwaii when they’ve learnt of our circumnavigation plans have reacted with overwhelming excitement and enthusiasm. Then usually they go on at length about where on the West Coast they’ve visited and the places we just must go. There’s often a note of caution, which is fair enough but in a positive way and it’s all forgotten when we mention we’ve done a bit of this before and that we’re West Coast junkies here for a fix.

Yesterday in one of the Haida art galleries in Old Masset Indian Reserve we got chatting to a fella in front of a map of Haida Gwaii. He recounted at length Haida creation and other stories relating to the people as a whole but also his own Raven clan. He pointed out islands, bays and beaches where his ancestors lived for thousands of years. He told us contemporary stories of his visits to the West Coast by boat and helicopter. If we both had not been dying for ‘the washroom’, desperate for some lunch and he hadn’t had an appointment we’d probably still be there now listening in fascination. 

We’re back on the water tomorrow morning with a couple of weeks food on board, plenty, hopefully, to get us back to Queen Charlotte. It’s approximately 300km, less than a week’s paddling in settled conditions but..... 

The next few days, at least in Masset, look relatively tropical with temps up into the high teens and moderate 10-20kn NW winds so maybe just maybe we won’t get blown off the water for days on end. 

Haida Gwaii

Paddling day two of our planned circumnavigation of Haida Gwaii and we’re pinned down on a lee shore by 30-40kn winds. The sea is a white maelstrom and the wind, whistling through the trees is competing with the roar of the surf to drown out the sound of the rain on the hut roof. It seems hard to believe we left our camp on Gooden  Island just offshore of Queen Charlotte yesterday morning at 7.30am in mirror calm water and not a breath of wind. 

The coast of Haida Gwaii between Queen Charlotte and Rose Spit, the far NE tip of Graham Island, is a more or less featureless stretch of beach for 130km. It’s wide open to the east, no headlands, no harbours, no shelter. The first 40km or so to Tlell is rocky and uninviting and the Yellowhead Hwy, the main road to Masset on the north coast, follows the shore closely so as we plodded medatively north in lovely sunshine through mirror calm water the sound of traffic was never far away. 

We were aiming for Tlell to camp but with the ebb tide on our side and at first just a zephyr of a southerly breeze barely enough to fill the sails we were making good progress. By the time we reached Tlell it was time for a late lunch and the wind had built to a healthy 15kn so with both sails up we had probably surfed the best part of the last 10km. 

By now the sky had clouded over to a menacing overcast and the wind was cold so we draped our tarp over a rough driftwood structure on the beach and huddled in the lee for a hurried lunch and cup of coffee. 

As forecast the day was getting wilder but there was no hesitation to continue on as with the southerly wind behind us we were making such good progress. 

There was a hurried consultation of the guide book (‘Boat Camping Haida Gwaii’ by Neil Frazer) and with cold fingers a few more waypoints were logged into the GPS. Even though on this featureless seemingly endless beach we could land anywhere there are very few places where gaps in the dunes or low cliffs allow easy access behind the beach to find water and sheltered camping. These identified spots as well as the three basic 3-sided shelters provided for walkers were entered in the GPS, as without the waypoints these critical landing spots are very hard to pin point from the water. 

The forecast winds for later in the day and at least the next were horrendous so we definitely had one of the huts in mind for the night. The first wasn’t far, about 8km, the next though was a further 12km or more, just a bit too far with the wind and sea building steadily so about 4pm we had tackled the messy steep short surf to land on one of the wildest stretches of coast we’ve been on for ages. 

The shelter turned out to be a small log cabin with sleeping benches and a wood stove! A comfy home for at least the next day probably more until the wind abates and seas drop enough for us to leave the beach and continue northwards. 

Cape Ball shelter, our home while sitting out three days of gales. 

East Beach at Cape Ball. 

Whose turn is it to get more firewood?

Thursday 7th June. 

“As all voyagers know the best way to deal with rotten weather while voyaging is to make a camp so fine that you don’t want to leave when the weather clears”

‘Boat Camping Haida Gwaii’ by Neil Frazer).

So true, though of course our fine camp came ready made in the form of a small cosy log cabin with wood heater and an infinite supply of driftwood on the beach. The three days here have gone quickly, much faster than one would expect. There are always little jobs to be done to fine tune our gear, especially so early in a trip. We’ve walked ‘our’ beach for kilometres north and south. 

We’ve learnt to light a fire with firewood from driftwood pine and cedar. We’ve learnt that with the heat of an established fire, wood straight off the beach, covered in wet sand and seemingly wet through, will burn readily. A number of people gave us the tip to carry fire lighters but we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to buy some when stocking up in Queen Charlotte though I think we might when we get to Masset! The wind and sea had dropped to quite acceptable levels this morning and we very nearly packed up and continued north. The forecast though was for strengthening winds up to 35kn from midday until early evening. Being new to the forecasts here, we wondered just how accurate are they? The uncertainty gnawed away in the back of our minds as we had breakfast. Was such a comfy camp too hard to leave? Had we lost our motivation? We certainly hadn’t, after only one day in the water, got into the daily rhythm of the 'job’ of expedition paddling. 

Prudence won in the end and we roamed the beach southward to Mayer River. Sure enough just as we got back to the cabin the forecast proved spot on and it’s blown a gale and poured with rain all afternoon. As I write this about 6pm the wind has died away so that all that can be heard is the rumble of the surf. Tomorrow’s forecast is Southerly 10-20kn, so no rolling over and going back to sleep - into the rhythm and northwards to Rose Spit. 

Friday 8th. Back on the water, finally, for another fast day running downwind with 15kn behind us to another cosy night in an even grander cabin with an early season walker for company. Tlell to Tow Hill is a popular 3-4 day bushwalk. Saturday dawned clear and dry with a gentle southerly that died out completely by the time we’d paddled the 10km to Rose Spit, one of the most amazing places I’ve been. An ever narrowing spit of sand extending NE for many kms from Graham Is. Off shore it’s shoals, conflicting tides and the differing sea conditions between Hecate Strait and Dixon Entrance make for such ‘interesting’ sea conditions that the common advice for kayakers is to portage over the tip rather than negotiating the rips and confused seas. We landed right on high tide a couple of hundred meters from the very tip where the it was less than 100m wide and barely 2m ASL, just dying to know what Dixon Entrance had in store for us on the other side. Open to the Pacific swells there could have been big surf, unlikely but possible. With relief we found the waves were plopping lazily onto the beach on the western side. Looking NE off the end of the spit there was maybe 500m of jobbly water where the very end of the spit was still submerged, and there were overfalls and clashing waves a couple of kms out near the visible “Overfall Shoal”, but around a horizon of almost 360deg, was smooth calm water with hardly a ripple. We dragged the boat over anyway and continued on towards Tow Hill for lunch. Today, Sunday, it was an easy 10km to the entrance of Masset Sound then a further few kms with tide and wind behind us to the fleshpots of the town itself. Fleshpots for us meant a shower and clean clothes, the first for a week and half. Absolute bliss!