Kayaking points north

Hanson Island, Canada

There is a place in the Canadian coastal wilderness that epitomizes my idea of heaven on Earth. The islands dotting the Inside Passage, a glacier-carved waterway to Alaska, sandwiched between Vancouver Island and the mainland coast of British Columbia, are lined with western hemlock trees reaching into sapphire skies. Bald eagles sit on treetop perches, their shrieks drifting in the saltwater breeze. Ravens soar overhead, their reflections mirrored in aquamarine waters that teem with whales, porpoises and seals.

It was here last July that I had one of those rare and fleeting moments that seem hard to believe even while they are happening. On an uninhabited island off the northern tip of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, nine campers and I waited on a rocky ledge 15 feet above a frigid inlet. We stood, cameras in hand, eager for an announcement on our two-way radio. “A super-pod is heading in your direction,” a voice crackled. Winding their way through the passage’s maze of islands were 72 orcas.

Near the mouth of the channel a quarter-mile away, the whales came into view. Through binoculars we tracked black fins slicing the placid waters. We heard them blow as they surfaced for air, showering the breeze with a mist of seawater. A few broke from the pod, drifted into our inlet and then fanned out across Johnstone Strait. Four hugged the shoreline leading to our ledge. Showing off as they approached, they arched their tail fins high in the air before abruptly slapping them down.

Three whales suddenly stopped directly in front of us. One by one, as if on cue, they shot straight up like rockets, their massive bodies suspended in the air. We watched, stunned into silence, as the three curious killer whales glanced our way before quietly disappearing back into the sea.

Pampered at camp

I love wilderness adventure travel partly because it’s unpredictable. A day spent kayaking among the Inside Passage’s islands is shaped by nature, your itinerary determined by tidal currents, the location of wildlife or the whim of the wind.

But I am not an experienced kayaker, nor do I camp regularly. In fact, it’s been a few years since my 47-year-old bones have slept on the ground with a pad not much thicker than a fat slice of steak. But experience was not necessary on this six-day kayaking and camping trip organized by Northern Lights Expeditions, an outfitter based on Vancouver Island for more than 20 years. Only a sense of adventure was needed, but that eliminated my husband. Along with his unnatural aversion to salt water, he is no Daniel Boone. His idea of camping involves room service and cable TV, so I went with my friend Mandy Bauman.

Our group of 10 campers and three young guides -- Luke, Michelle and Joi (pronounced Jo-ee) -- gathered the night before our departure in the lobby of the Haida-Way Inn, in the small logging town of Port McNeill on the northeastern shore of Vancouver Island. Our guides gave each of us five dry bags in which to stow clothing and gear. They were color-coded and printed with names of wild creatures so we could easily recognize our stuff. Mandy was “black bear.” The others had cool names like “eagle” or “wolf,” but I was amused to be dubbed “river otter” -- a weasel.

From the moment we met, our group fit like old chums gathering after a long absence. My fellow campers ranged from mid-30s to 60 and came from both coasts of the U.S. Amy and Ray Mathis had traveled from Florida; Alan Thompson, Beth Light, and Mike and Nadine Nielsen from Seattle; Rob and Kelly Easley were honeymooners from San Francisco; and Mandy and I are from the Bay Area. Our shared appreciation of wildlife and the outdoors created an instant bond, and we were eager to get started.

The next morning a water taxi shuttled us 15 miles to Compton Island, where the Mamalilikulla tribe lived for thousands of years. All that remains of their village is a blanket of crushed white seashells on the beach. Compton, like many of the islands in the Inside Passage, is uninhabited, and it would be our camp for the next two days.

Camping along the Inside Passage is not for fair-weather vacationers. Rain is always a possibility here. The group before us had rain every day, but we were fortunate to have a dry week. The mornings and evenings were cool, so I wore layers of clothing: three shirts and a jacket, tights under shorts covered by long pants -- excessive maybe, but I tend to get cold in a sauna. By noon temperatures warmed, and I went sleeveless under cloudless skies.

Insects were not a problem either, other than an occasional mosquito trying desperately to enter our screened tent. Our snug nylon domicile was impervious to most of the elements, even if it didn’t always feel that way.

I am a light sleeper, cursed with an active imagination. One night I awoke to winds whipping through the trees and twigs dropping on our tent. Lying in the dark in a sleeping bag, I envisioned that the forest was falling or that we might become airborne like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz.” Come morning, though, hardly a leaf was out of place.

It didn’t take long before we realized that this trip was not for sissies. There were chores to be done. Although our guides worked hard to indulge us, a willingness to work was necessary if we wanted time for fun. We unloaded gear, helped carry kayaks, set up tents and collected firewood. It was like being in the Boy Scouts -- without the merit badges.

In exchange for washing the dishes, we were pampered with scrumptious, hearty meals -- burritos, pizza, smoked salmon, lasagna, baked biscuits with cheese -- in a makeshift wooden lean-to dubbed the “Blackfish Cafe.” (Natives call orcas blackfish.) For breakfast, Michelle made Tasmanian French toast, a delicious concoction of cream cheese sandwiched between slices of bread dipped in butter and eggs, then grilled to perfection and topped with blueberries, peaches and syrup. Luke was a wizard with pasta, and Joi created artistic dishes of vegetarian sushi and fancy desserts. Coffee and bags filled with snacks were always at hand.

The Biff (an acronym for Bathroom In Forest Floor) was a short hike from our campsite. The rolling trail, cushioned as thick as carpet by the fallen needles from fir and hemlock trees, was marked with rocks and red ribbons tied to branches so we wouldn’t get lost. We took showers -- spit baths, really -- with solar-warmed fresh water that hung in plastic bags from tree limbs. But our guides were hardy souls. They took their biodegradable soap and bathed in the 47-degree seawater.

Though it could feel primitive, camping gave us experiences we wouldn’t have had in a lodge. At 3 o’clock one morning, Mandy and I rose to use the Biff. As we left our tent, we saw the silhouette of Vancouver Island. Stars glistened like millions of stationary fireflies. As we watched and inhaled the crisp salt air, a cruise ship appeared from behind an island to our right. Bedecked in strands of brilliant white lights from bow to stern, it moved silently through the darkness on its way toward Alaska, 300 miles distant.

There were other magic moments: the sight of a thick sheet of fog sweeping over the top of Vancouver Island, rolling down the hillside like a blanket of white cotton batting. The sense of peace we found when waking to the hypnotic cadence of waves hitting the shore or listening to a bald eagle calling in a treetop high above the tents. Or walking through tide pools in the early morning, coffee cup in hand, while our guides pointed out anemones, limpets, sunflower stars, sea urchins and sea cucumbers only a few feet from our camp. Our guides were encyclopedias on the region, and they educated us each day while we rowed through postcard inlets.

Wildlife bonanza

On our first day out, we practiced paddling around the 150-acre Compton Island. The two-person, 21-foot boats were surprisingly stable, especially when loaded with gear. Most of us were novice kayakers, but we quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. By the second day we were concentrating less on steering the boats through the eggplant-colored sea kelp and more on enjoying our surroundings.

We kayaked about six hours a day -- 16 nautical miles -- through glassy waters, paddling down Blackfish Sound and through Johnstone Strait. Along the way, we stopped daily for lunch on one of the area’s many uninhabited islands.

Nearly everywhere we went we saw seals sunning themselves on rocks, salmon springing into the air or porpoises swimming under our bows. British Columbia has about 600 species of birds and mammals. And of course there were whales, which we encountered nearly every day.

More than 200 orcas inhabit the waters from northern Vancouver Island to the southeast tip of Alaska. Researchers can identify whales by the shape of their dorsal fins and the saddle patch below the dorsal fin. In one of our first orca sightings we saw Springer, an orphaned juvenile that strayed to Puget Sound before being relocated back to her pod in the Inside Passage. She had become so fond of following boats that her surrogate mother had to repeatedly nudge her back to the pod.

Whenever we heard the radio announcement that whales were sighted, we jumped into our kayaks quicker than firefighters on a three-alarm call. Luke would drop a hydrophone into the water so we could hear them clicking and singing -- incredibly moving vocalizations. One day we sat awed as five orcas came toward us. They were sleeping, pressed together on the water’s surface.

On Day 3 we moved camp to Hanson Island to explore the waters beyond Compton. Our campsite, Shaker Point, was near a rock outcrop overlooking Johnstone Strait. At the end of our days, we congregated there and shared stories, lounged in the late afternoon sun or read. At night after dinner we gathered around a bonfire toasting marshmallows as Joi played guitar and serenaded us.

A full moon fell on the last night before our departure, so Mandy and I joined the group on a midnight paddle to see the luminescent plankton that thrive in the waters along the coastline. With the moon illuminating our way, we tossed rocks into the water and watched the plankton burst into a sparkling mass of colors, like underwater fireworks.

On our departure day, the winds were so fierce we couldn’t kayak, so we followed Luke on a hike to the top of Hanson Island. We picked salmonberries while he talked about the vegetation, land mammals, forestry and native culture.

On our return to camp we learned the water taxi that was to take us back to Port McNeill was delayed. To pass the time, Joi strummed his guitar, some read, others napped. I sat on the rocky ledge savoring the panoramic view and thought about our six days. After the Inside Passage, I’d say heaven has a hard act to follow.

*

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

At home in Canada’s great outdoors

GETTING THERE:

From LAX to Seattle, Alaska and United offer nonstop service. Southwest offers direct flights (one stop). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $178.

To Vancouver, Canada, Alaska and Air Canada offer nonstop flights, and United has connecting service (change of plane). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $167.70.

From Vancouver, BC Ferries, 1112 Fort St., Victoria, B.C., Canada V8V 4V2; (250) 386-3431, www.bcferries.com, operates ferries to Victoria, Canada. One-way fares $7 for adults; $3.50 for children 5-11; younger than 5 free. Cars $23 one way.

From Seattle, Victoria Clipper, 2701 Alaskan Way, Pier 69, Seattle, WA 98121; (800) 888-2535, www.clippervacations.com, has passenger-only ferries to Victoria. One-way fares $77 adults; $71 seniors; $38.50 children 1-11.

In Victoria you can rent a car for the drive to Port McNeill.

WHERE TO STAY:

Haida-Way Inn, 1817 Campbell Way, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (800) 956-3373, www.pmhotels.com. Modern 70-room hotel. Doubles from $48.

Broughton Manor, P.O. Box 44, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (250) 956-4202, www.broughtonmanor.com. A three-room B&B; on the waterfront. Doubles $90-$104, including breakfast.

Roseberry Manor, 810 Nimpkish Heights Drive, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (888) 956-7673, www.bbcanada.com/roseberrymanorbb. A three-room B&B; in a wooded setting. Doubles $47-$68, including breakfast.

WHERE TO EAT:

Northern Lights Restaurant, 1817 Campbell Way, (250) 956-3263 (not affiliated with the outfitter), is convenient because it is inside the Haida-Way Inn. Dinner entrees $9.50-$18.

Sportsman Steak & Pizza, 1547 Beach Drive, (250) 956-4113, has Italian, Greek and Canadian food. Entrees $6-$22.

McNeill’s Inn, 1597 Beach Drive; (866) 888-3466. Entrees $6.50-$11.

OUTFITTERS:

Northern Lights Expeditions, P.O. Box 4289, Bellingham, WA 98227; (800) 754-7402, www.seakayaking.com. We went with this outfitter, which offers a variety of trips along the British Columbia coast. A six-day Inside Passage trip costs $1,299.

Some other companies offering kayaking trips from Vancouver Island:

Coastal Spirits, P.O. Box 630, Quadra Island, B.C. V0P 1N0; (888) 427-5557, www.kayakbritishcolumbia.com.

Discovery Expeditions, 221 Ferntree Place, Nanaimo, B.C. V9T 5M1; (888) 756-0099, www.orcaseakayaking.com.

Pacific Northwest Expeditions, P.O. Box 97, Station A, Nanaimo, B.C. V9R 5K4; (866) 529-2522, www.seakayakbc.com.

TO LEARN MORE:

Port McNeill & District Chamber of Commerce, 351 Shelley Crescent, Port McNeill, B.C. V0N 2R0; (250) 956-3131, www.portmcneill.net.

Canadian Tourism Commission, 550 S. Hope St., Los Angeles, CA 90071; (213) 346-2700, www.travelcanada.ca.

-- Janet Williams

Janet Williams is a freelance writer living in Marin County.