Jonathon loves nothing better than to stand in line for a BC Ferries breakfast, so we queued up with the German tourists for the overpriced and underwhelming meal as the ferry ran out of Hardy Bay. Weather was sunny and stunning, so a post-prandial stroll around the decks was in order. The morning fog shrouded the islands in and around God's Pocket and gave them an unearthly beauty; I've now added them to the list of future destinations.
As we left the protection of Vancouver Island some swell began to be felt. Nearing Cape Caution we entered a blind fog and the ferry bobbed like a toy in the waves. Near Smith Inlet the fog dissipated, and we had stunning views up Fitzhugh Sound. The wave energy smashing on the islets on the outer edge of Penrose Park was exciting. Fitzhugh itself was very placid. Beautiful conditions for a cruise.
Addenbroke Lighthouse
Calvert Island: Mount Buxton (L) and Kwakshua Channel (R)
Leaving Calvert Island behind
Looking west through Hakai Pass, with Hecate Island on the left and Nalau Island on the right
After Hakai Pass we hit another fog bank. Once through, we saw the old town of Namu, which would have to be a destination for another trip. At about noon, we turned the corner south of Denny Island and could spy Bella Bella up the channel. Suddenly, we were on a route that we would paddle later, on the home stretch of the trip. The Germans brought out their huge cameras and began snapping photos of everything. I began snapping photos of their giant cameras, to catch some of their telephoto magic by proxy.
Bella Bella
Rounding the corner into Seaforth Channel, the energy of the ocean met us again. The channel felt large and passionate, if not quite wild. We could see Price Island looming low and dark and unpleasant-looking in the far distance. Jon and I had been debating whether to spend a couple of days to take the west coast of Price as our first few days' route, but this sight inspired us to initiate Plan B — to cross Finlayson Channel and go straight for Dallas Island once we left Klemtu.
Our planned route was as follows:
From Klemtu to Pidwell Reef
A night at Higgins Passage, then down the west coast of Price to Langford Cove
Cross Milbanke Sound to Dallas Island
Dallas to Gale Passage north entrance
Gale to McMullin Group
McMullin to Goose Group
Through the McNaughton Group to Cultus Sound
To the Serpent Islands
To Wolf Beach...
... and wind our way back.
An ambitious trip, and we were prepared to alter our course and plans as weather, conditions, and whim dictated. I wasn't really keen to end up on the far side of Hakai Pass without a few days' grace to get back to Bella Bella in time for our ferry on the 14th. Cutting off the Price leg would leave us much more room to play where we had set our sights: the Hakai Luxvbalis area. This didn't quite work out the way we'd planned, either... but more on that later.
Moving into Finlayson Channel, we could see the beach at Pidwell Reef as clear as day. Milbanke Sound seemed impossibly wide, and the sunny day had suddenly turned very grey. It seemed obvious that the right choice would be to cross Finlayson where it was narrow and head for Dallas Island tomorrow. But where would we camp tonight? The ferry docked at about 3:00, so there weren't many hours to load the kayaks and paddle to a camping spot, if we could find one. Google Maps showed a few potential spots south of Klemtu; otherwise our only confirmed spot would be Rescue bay, over 20km away.
Can you guess which one is Cone Island?
Cone Island was well in view now, and the Klemtu ferry terminal was on the other side. Rainclouds were gathering, but the forecast was for clearer days to come after some rain tonight. We repaired to the car deck as the ferry began to dock, and it quickly became obvious who the other kayaker on the ferry was: the out-of-her-depth hippie girl we'd spied at the Port Hardy terminal. We struck up conversation about our boats; hers was a rental, which she'd had to arrange car transport from Port McNeill to Port Hardy. She was Polish, and her name was Kamila. As we were heading south, she was heading north, to Princess Royal Island, to photograph spirit bears. Oh, my; she was going to be eaten, and her blood would be on our hands for letting her go.
As the few cars that were disembarking at Klemtu rolled off, Jon began to ask around about camping in the area, as Pidwell seemed far and Dallas impossibly so. One of the terminal workers said we could stay the night in the terminal building — what the?! what a stroke of luck! He just kind of shrugged it off as, well, of course, whatever... oh, and maybe we would have to pay a bit for it. This seemed both very unofficial and eminently fair, so we pooled the little cash we had on hand to make up the "fee."
The "kayak launch" at Klemtu terminal
Models, citizens
After the ferry left and the workers headed back home, the place was as empty as an abandoned shoe. Kamila had some business to take care of in town, so we decided to hike the 2km in. As we walked and talked, we realized our first impressions of Kamila were entirely unfounded — 180 degrees wrong. This might have been her first major kayak trip, but she was well equipped to handle what this area was going to throw at her — much more than we were. She was an experienced guide and photographer, led weeks-long expeditions, had biked from Dawson to Iqaluit up the Dempster highway in the winter (!), and was a hilarious storyteller besides. She taught us the phrase "zażółć gęślą jaźń" which means nothing but contains all the most Polish letters and sounds.
At the town, we left Kamila to hunt down her emergency contact and rescue boat while we took in the sights. Lots of run-down portables with painted-on Tsimshian/Heiltsuk art, a funny mix of pride and neglect, traditional and modern.
The ravens were huge — among the biggest I've ever seen — fat on the leavings of the townsfolk fishing in the placid little bay. Many suppers were caught as we walked by — it seemed you could hardly cast a line without hooking a salmon here. Between the protection of Cone Island and the abundance of the bay it was obvious why the Kitasoo and Xai'xais people chose this place as their refuge.
Making friends in Klemtu
We passed a pair of chatting women who were loudly discussing a sasquatch one of them had sighted. I'm not 100% certain they weren't putting on a joke for our benefit — but apparently Klemtu is a sasquatch hotspot, so who knows?
We were running out of time to hit the bank machine at the band grocery store on the other side of town, so we hightailed it over. As it happens, the ATM was out of money — and the vast and nearly empty store was all but out of groceries. Not like we'd probably need any cash out in Hakai, but you never know if you might need to transact with someone in an emergency situation.
Back at the terminal, we laid out our charts end to end and talked about our planned routes, and plugged in everything that might need to be charged for a last battery top-up. We tucked into dinner and watched as the sky alternated between brilliant and eerie.
A sea lion did joyous backflips for us before disappearing into the night. "One less bottle of beer, one less saag paneer" to pack. Heavy rain came and went, and we bedded down, dry as tinder and as full of quiet potential.
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