It was good to finally get on the water and start paddling. It had been a long day already: getting the kayaks after work, packing the car, driving to the ferry dock, “sleeping” in the parking lot, catching the ferry to Nanaimo, and driving more than 5 hours to the North end of Vancouver Island. We paddled out of Telegraph Cove at about 3:00 pm and made it to our camp on Compton Island by 6:00. After a good night’s sleep, we headed out into Johnstone Strait. On the way, Marty and I heard a huge splash and turned to see a large fluke coming out of the water. We saw the large tail several times, but never got closer than about one hundred yards. Some said it was a Gray Whale, others said it was a Humpback. All I know is that it was big big big!
This area is considered one of the best places in the world to see Orcas, and we weren’t disappointed. Soon, off Cracroft Point, Mike spotted a large dorsal fin coming down the Strait, and we positioned our boats to intercept. There were three Orcas in all, and, after passing by, they circled back. They kept cricling around us, in fact, for more than an hour. Soon Rolly and Scott joined us, in addition to other kayakers, and we enjoyed the unusually calm and sunny weather.
Marty, Mike, and I brought our fishing poles in hopes of catching some salmon. Mike had tied a whole bunch of nice-looking flies to imitate minnows, shrimp, squid, and other things, so he and I used our fly poles. Marty used a spinning rod and had the most success. The feeding salmon will herd bunches of herring into a centralized school, a “herring ball”, and all of the seagulls within a half-mile radius will rapidly converge on this location to get in on the action. So, every now and then, a mass of shrieking birds would splash over one spot on the water, and we would race over to cast for the salmon that had to be there. Once, we were met by dozens of circling sharks, each two or three feet long, bumping into our boats. How creepy!
Marty caught a few small salmon. We kept one and ate it for breakfast. He also caught a few of the diving birds! He would yell, “I got one … feels pretty good”, only to get it up to the boat and say, “Darn! It’s just another bird.” Later, though, Marty hooked a nice 15 pound King Salmon, but it broke the line at the last moment. The size of the “one that got away” kept growing as time went by, so, to keep the tale from swelling any further, we all agreed to keep the size of the fish at 15 pounds. Marty agreed, “15 pounds – a conservative 15 pounds that easily could’ve passed for 20.”
Marty would yell, “I got one … feels pretty good”, only to get it up to the boat and say, “Dang! It’s just another bird.”
As it turns out, we did get to have a salmon feast one night. Marty signaled some commercial fishermen over to our camp and asked if they had any extra fish. “Sure, no problem, we’ll be right back.” Indeed, they returned with two frozen fillets, and Marty got his big salmon after all. We socialized with the fishermen for awhile. One of them, Godfrey, mentioned that he had accidently run over a kayaker once! The following day, we mounted the fillets on a gridwork of cedar sticks and roasted them over some coals – just like the Indians used to do it.
The stars were beautiful at night, and oftentimes, after dark, we could hear the whales out across the water. The stars weren’t the only things that sparkled, however. The water did too. Late at night, out in the boats, our paddles would generate a great deal of glowing phosphorescence, and the bow wake would stream with watery sparks. Scott played his flute, and the sound floated far over the dark waters, complimenting perfectly the peaceful atmosphere.
One of our day trips took us to Village Island, a former dwelling site for the Mamalillaculla Band of Indians. The beach was white with generations of bleached clam shells. The island holds remnants of a longhouse, and some totem poles, in addition to some abandoned buildings from the 1930′s. Black bears are commonly seen in the berry patches, although we didn’t come across one. Paddling back to our camp, we saw a faint red pictograph painted on a cliffside.
I could’ve easily spent another couple of days exploring the islands. They say that if you go deeper towards the mainland, you can hear wolves howl at night. But, after five days, our water supply had run out, and our beer supply also. On the way back, some of the guys saw Godfrey in his fishing boat and wisely decided to give him a wide berth.
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