Tuesday 5 August 2014

BC Coast Solo, 27 days



To find out that your kayak is taking on water in the middle of a 4 hour crossing is never a good thing I suppose. Making this type of discovery at the end of a 14+ hour day during a month long solo paddling trip along a remote coast can also add a little spice to such situations. “Saddle up!” sang the little voice in my head. “It is getting dark and its instant mashed potatoes for dinner!”.


After a long winter working as a Registered Nurse on Haida Gwaii, I was searching for a little excitement to kick off the summer. Born and raised on Haida Gwaii, I was doomed to be a paddler ever since my dad had me in a kayak when I was less than 2 weeks old. After paddling across the Hecate Strait from Masset to Prince Rupert in 2008, I have since toyed with the idea of connecting Northern BC all the way down to Southern Vancouver Island. During a nightshift in January I settled on the idea of paddling the length of the BC Coast from the Nisga’a Village of Gingolx in the Nass River valley and ending in Victoria, BC. The trip would take me through 10 separate First Nation’s lands and cultural boundaries and I was very much interested in speaking with the youth who lived in these remote First Nation communities. With a bit of prep and some wonderful hospitality from some good people in Terrace, I soon found myself sitting in my kayak floating down the Kincolith River in a fully-loaded boat with Alaska to my immediate right, a month of paddling to my left, and some friends waving goodbye from the shore. 

6 weeks of gear


  


 One of the most significant things that hit me as I began making my way south was the history of people who have called the West Coast their home. Beginning with First Nation people who have been here for thousands of years, to European settlers who arrived a mere few hundred years ago, it is easy to say that every single beach that I stopped at or camped on was once inhabited. A few times during the trip I paddled around a point or corner and came face to face with a deserted cannery town site. With empty windows staring out at the water, trees growing through the roofs of houses, and not a single living soul within miles, these were places that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up and made you feel like you were being watched. A good example of this was when I passed the abandoned town of Butedale located approximately two thirds of the way between Prince Rupert and Port Hardy. A fishing, mining, and logging town, Butedale was established in 1918 and at its peak the town had over 400 occupants. In its day, Butedale had regularly scheduled steamboat dockings, and was a hub of the Northwest Coast. The town sits directly beside a massive cascading waterfall which dumps into the Princess Royal Channel, and through the use of a hydroelectric dam connected to the falls, Butedale had full electrical services. This was evident by the large rundown sign boasting “Icecream!”. My imagination was running strong by that part of the trip, and when I closed my eyes I could easily see Butedale during its glory with numerous steamships, the sounds of machinery working in the large cannery warehouses, and the yells of men, women, and children selling goods on the wharf to passing boaters. When I was there, all that greeted me was the whistling of wind through abandoned wharf pillars and the occasional bark of a passing sealion. Spooky stuff!
Butedale
whitewater potential Everywhere!

 There is something to be said about solo multiday trips. With no distractions other than immediate surroundings, I soon found myself completely immersed in the present with little thoughts other than when to eat, where to sleep, and how far to paddle each day. I have to admit that the first few days were a bit intimidating as the magnitude of my venture began to sink in. However, always the optimist, I trained myself to focus not on the long-term goal, but instead began to set achievable daily goals in order to avoid overwhelming myself. I will be frank, I am in no way the first (or last) person to attempt a journey such as this. However, the prospect of spending 6 weeks kayaking on the ocean by oneself can be daunting. In order to be successful, you really have to focus on the positive side of any situation during time spend alone in a remote setting. If you let yourself dwell on negative thoughts, things can get a bit scary out there!

somewhere on the Central Coast

By the end of the first week, I felt that I had really settled into a comfortable groove. From the moment I woke up in the morning and opened up my tent to the moment I curled up in my sleeping bag for the night, I was constantly on the move. Things became easier and easier and the days all began to blend in to one another. Life was simple and I loved it.
exposed westcoast camp, best ever
For the most part the weather held well during the trip. This was especially true during the times when good weather was necessary to make specific daily destinations. Granted, I spent a few days dining on large slices of humble-pie. Generally the beaches that I camped on were mixture of sand and shale, but a few memorable nights I was forced to surf land on rocky ‘beaches’ in order to safely get off the water due to bad weather. I chose to use a plastic boat on this trip for specifically this reason. While fiber glass and composite boats paddle much nicer, I was all alone and needed to rely on a kayak that could take a solid beating. That memorable moment when I felt water sloshing at the back of my knees during an open ocean crossing was a direct result of a forced landing on rocks earlier in the day which had allowed me to scramble up a cliff to fill my water bottles from a questionable looking muddy stream. Luckily, the mini crack in the hull of my boat wasn’t too serious and with regular pumping every 20 minutes or so, I was able to successfully complete the crossing and make it to camp where I promptly set about to patching the hole with a lighter, Aquaseal, and gorilla tape (a must for any kayak repair kit!). I am happy to say that the patch held, my will-power did not waver, and after 4 weeks of kayaking I arrived at the harbour in Victoria a full 2 weeks ahead of schedule.
day 27, tasting it!
 During my 27 days on the ocean, I underwent all the ups and downs one can expect when pushing personal mental and physical boundaries. I experienced pain, sweat, bled, felt pure bliss, spent days in absolute silence, growled, sang my heart out, laughed like a maniac, foraged for fresh food, ate stinging nettles, fiddleheads, urchins, roots, and grubs, bathed and drank from fresh springs, ran out of water and drank from mud puddles, caught fish, ate a life supply of trail mix (and still lovin it!), paddled with dolphins, porpoises, and humpback whales, was chased by sea-lions, discovered instant mashed potatoes, got the ultimate hand-tan, spend days and days soaking wet, paddled through sleet, rain, wind and tide, got caught in breaking West coast swell, camped on haunted shores, slept on moss, sand, and rocks, raced super-tankers (and lost), told myself I would never paddle again, and swore I would never stop kayaking. In the communities that I paddled past, I met old friends and made new ones, was taken into peoples homes and experienced the epitome of human compassion and hospitality. I am thankful for my dad and uncle Don for their infinite paddling wisdom, my trusty Necky kayak and Werner blade for not breaking apart and delivering me safely to my final destination, and Mountain Equipment Coop for supporting this adventure and providing the necessary gear which helped me achieve my goal of paddling the length of the BC Coast. My heart is warm, and my soul is strong. Sahgwii hla ang.Ga aalaay isda Guu (Lift your paddles up). Haawa.


classic camp shit-tornado
      











vancouver island sunset








                                     












Summertimes

Non-stop this season! Last months have consisted of class-act whitewater in Terrace including 2day BIG volume Nass trip with Ali Marshal and Benni Seeberger, creeking down in Whistler an Squamish including Sam Drouin and I placing 5th on the Callaghan Creek race amongst a stacked crew of boaters, Ashlu box canyon and 50/50 (finally!), and lots and lots of ocean kayaking with my company Kitgoro Kayaking! In non-paddling news, my sister Thea had a beautiful baby girl named Meta who will be the future of female kayaking. You heard it here first. Check out some footage from Terrace this summer!

http://www.kayaksession.com/exploring-terrace-bc/

Much more to come!