South Brooks, a Paddler’s Dream
Submitted to SKABC (Sea Kayaker's Association of BC) Paddle Newsletter 2007
Heather, Harald and I were on the water together for 10 days, paddling from Fair Harbour to the Brooks Peninsula. We enjoyed beautiful sand and pebble beaches (some very wild-looking; others, or at least one in particular, resembling a tropical white sand beach), swam in the ocean and in crystal clear streams, and were energized by the wind, swell and pounding waves of this exposed coast. Also fascinating was the diversity of marine life we encountered, and the massive, towering Solander, a nesting ground for an abundance of seabirds, and its neighbouring sea lion rookery. For the most part we were alone – only once did we share a beach for camping with another group. Spectacular cloudless days, an unprecedented 10 days of no rain on Vancouver’s West Coast, and the absence of fog, contributed to making this trip to the Brooks a paddler’s dream.
Other than numerous sea otter sightings, and my forced swim (I looked up from my lunch just in time to see my kayak silently slip off of the beach and head for deep water!), our first days were pleasant and relatively uneventful. We’d spent the first night on McLean Island (the east side), and the second on one of the beautiful Cuttle Islands. On the third day we paddled effortlessly around Clerke Point and the famed “bowling alley”, only to struggle against 25-30 knot gusts the last few miles to Nordstrom Creek. The gusts stopped us in our tracks, slamming into our chests, and blowing my hat off my head! It was, however, tremendously exhilarating for me, paddling among rock gardens, surge, and sea spray!
Our camp was situated on a gravel berm with an intertidal boulder field below and black rock stacks guarding the shore. That evening we witnessed the most amazing fire red clouds march across the sky over the hills, and stayed up to watch the stars brilliantly fill the sky. We anticipated the challenge of our primary goal and aspiration for the trip: circumnavigating Solander with its unforgiving exposure at the tip of the Brooks. Heather and I had failed in this quest last August (when we paddled to North Brooks from Winter Harbour) due to strong winds, fog plaguing us among boomers, and rough sea conditions.
At 4:00am 20 knot winds were reported at Solander. Given my paddling experience, this was not good. Harald, however, was much more optimistic. He immediately suggested that we get out on the water and assess the conditions for ourselves. This made sense to me, since we were only 3-4 miles away. We could always choose to turn around. Furthermore, there was no indication that the wind and sea conditions were likely to improve in the next day or two. Both Heather and I were game to go!
We launched during another great low tide, giving me the opportunity to get some close-up views of the many healthy, silken kelps and iridescent red algae as we skillfully (well, not always) maneuvered among boulders in the rock gardens – one of my favourite Outer Coast activities. We hadn’t gone far when Solander appeared on the horizon, rekindling our enthusiasm and determination. Unfortunately, we soon began to battle strong wind gusts. Yet, as I looked around me, whitecaps were few, despite the wind. I felt reassured that the paddling conditions remained safe and within our capabilities, and rather than feel dismay, I felt energized. We continued to make our way ever closer paralleling the shore, and then veered out to sea with the massive monolith before us.
We launched during another great low tide, giving me the opportunity to get some close-up views of the many healthy, silken kelps and iridescent red algae as we skillfully (well, not always) maneuvered among boulders in the rock gardens – one of my favourite Outer Coast activities. We hadn’t gone far when Solander appeared on the horizon, rekindling our enthusiasm and determination. Unfortunately, we soon began to battle strong wind gusts. Yet, as I looked around me, whitecaps were few, despite the wind. I felt reassured that the paddling conditions remained safe and within our capabilities, and rather than feel dismay, I felt energized. We continued to make our way ever closer paralleling the shore, and then veered out to sea with the massive monolith before us.
The winds were notably stronger out here, the waves notably higher. But there was no stopping us now! As we approached the steep, green walls of rock bathed in sunlight, gulls hovered, the wind swept through the grass, and then suddenly, “Look! It’s a puffin!” The first puffin I’d ever seen, orange beak and all, flew directly in front of me! It was an awe-inspiring moment. And there were more puffins, and pigeon guillemots, auklets, murres and cormorants swirling and squawking above us and in all directions. The massive head of a bull sea lion surfaced only metres in front of us to complement the cacophony of sight and sound.
With the wind picking up, Heather and I followed Harald’s lead and shot through a channel to the west side of the island. Guano bombs fell left, right and centre (somehow I was spared!), and suddenly we found ourselves in the biggest “washing machine” I’ve ever been in. What an adrenaline rush! The waves tossed us up and down and from side to side. Sea spray blew off the tops of the waves and into our faces. A pungent odour assaulted our nostrils, and soon after we observed sea lions lumbering on an adjacent island. Harald directed me to head between the two islands. All I could see was white spray and more white spray, but I stoically moved forward and picked my way through the turbulence. Once through I needed to round Solander, which meant surfing the big whitecaps! Somewhat hesitantly I proceeded to make a wide turn so that the biggest waves hit me on beam, and then I was surfing smaller waves. All was well, and we soon after surfed back to camp in half the time it had taken us to get here. Back at Nordstrom Creek we plunged into the icy, refreshing water, and then spent the remainder of the afternoon lounging in our chairs, drinking tea and coffee, and gazing out to sea. Harald commented that it doesn’t get any better than this!
And yet, the next six days were far from uneventful. We planned a land day on the big white sand beach west of Jackobson Point, where we swam, hiked forest trails to a fantastic surf beach, observed a mother and baby humpback whale, and dined while orcas fed offshore. We visited the opening to Johnston Lagoon at flood tide. Wanting to view the rapids, but not get swept into the lagoon, we back- paddled close to shore where the current was weaker – it can be a little tricky not getting swept out into the middle! We stopped at Acous Peninsula to view totems covered in moss and lying on the forest floor. A spruce tree grows from one of these, reclaiming it for the forest.
En route to Spring Island from the Cuttle Islands (a very long crossing), we stopped in a Nereocystis (bull kelp) bed for a break, and immediately spotted a curious sea otter approaching closer and closer. It crept over the top of the kelp, dove, reappeared, crept and dove again until finally it was within a metre of my boat! We held our breath as it placed its paws on the bow of my boat and opened its mouth to sample fibreglass!
Another highlight was paddling into Kyuquot from Spring Island (only about an hour’s paddle). We needed to replenish our water supply. The quaint village boasts a boardwalk (reminiscent for me of Bamfield) and an extremely well stocked general store. We bought tomatoes for our sandwiches, a green pepper for the evening’s meal and, best of all, ice cream bars. To my surprise, Harald later produced pudding packs for dessert that he’d also purchased in Kyuquot. On the return trip to camp, Harald caught a sea bass and a kelp greenling, which Heather cleaned and fried up to perfection with garlic, butter and lemon. It was the meal’s appetizer. And what a truly amazing meal it was.
The day we headed back to Fair Harbour a cold breeze blew. Leaving behind the open ocean, we were suddenly aware of the stillness – no surf, no wave action whatsoever. Our dream paddle on the Outer Coast had come to an end.