Dan, Joy, Cynthia at Nanaimo Bakery |
John, Christine, Tina at Nanaimo Bakery |
Marina at Telegraph Cove |
The Broken Group Islands trip last year was so much fun that we set out on another week long paddling adventure.
Fortunately for us (and our lead plated kayak), John and Christine are tall and able to assist with putting the boat on the car. We did have a minor adventure loading onto the ferry in Tsawwassen as we were put on the upper deck of the ferry, but the crew realised once we were there and approaching the covered area there that we were too tall. They ended up having to stop traffic so we could drive back down the ramp and get loaded on the lower deck.
We met up with Tina's car at Nanaimo Bakery, where we grabbed lunch. They left for Telegraph Cove while we made brief stops in Nanaimo for gas and, more importantly, a fillet knife and a glow in the dark fish whacker that shall not accompany anyone into a tent. Nope, no foreshadowing at all.
They got into Telegraph Cove early enough to poke around a little and check out the museum. We caught up with them again, found our campsite, and had some dinner in the village. Erica's car rolled in around when we were getting ready for bed.
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Dan, Joy, Cynthia at Nanaimo Bakery |
John, Christine, Tina at Nanaimo Bakery |
Marina at Telegraph Cove |
Bright and early we packed up our stuff and unloaded it by the dock in town. We were mostly ready to go by 7am, but the water taxi which was to take us across the strait was nowhere in sight. Larry showed up an hour later, and still didn't seem to be in much of a rush. We loaded the boat with kayaks and gear and set sail.
Fearing that we might be windbound on the west side of the strait, we had arranged the water taxi to take us across to start the trip. Of course, the water was glass calm, but that couldn't have been predicted. And we wouldn't have gotten to meet Larry otherwise. He gave us a good introduction to the area (including places to drop our crab trap), and we settled on Mound Island as the destination for the taxi. He also reassured us that he would be in the area should we require any assistance, and that we could contact him by phone or VHF if necessary.
John being structural |
Human chain to load the boat |
Dan working on his first catch |
Bemused girls |
Catch! |
We made camp on Mound Island and set off on a short day trip around Leone Island and visited the fish farm between Leone and Larson Islands. A boat came out to meet us, and instead of admonishing us, they welcomed us and took some time to chat. Apparently we had missed the fish because they were in the process of moving the pens to another location.
Nap time |
Too many cooks |
Steak |
Chef Erica |
Nut crust halibut |
Tina and Dan enjoying dinner |
There was one other group on Mound that night, similarly sized to ours. The campsite at Mound is quite large, providing many areas under a forest canopy for tents, and easily accomodated our two groups with lots of room for more campers. The other group left the next day and we got to enjoy the island all to ourselves for the duration of our stay there.
We set out for Village Island the next day, dropping the crab trap in the passage between Berry and Leone Islands. Although labelled Mamalilaculla on our chart, that was actually the name of the tribe, and the village was called Mimkwamlis. Potlatches were outlawed from 1885 to 1951, and this was the site of the last potlatch in 1921. The potlatch was raided by police (although accounts differ as to whether it was a sting or if the police were tipped off) leading to seizures of cultural artifacts and over 40 arrests, about half of whom were sent to prison. The village was abandoned in the 1960s, with residents encouraged to move to Alert Bay.
We spent the afternoon exploring the village site, and enjoying a good round of swimming and relaxing on the beach before paddling back to Mound for dinner.
Longhouse remains |
Abandoned house |
View from upstairs |
Chimney |
Peeling paint |
Porch windows |
Totem pole |
Napping Michael, hiding Cynthia |
Vietnamese rolls |
Moon over Harbledown Island |
While we were having breakfast (it was smoothie day for our food group), Larry dropped by to say hi. We told him of our adventures so far, and he scoffed at the use of scrap meat from dinner and random shellfish as crab bait. We must use a fish head, he said, and insisted that we go out with him so he can fix that. Erica gets the last laugh however, as the fish head failed to catch anything, while her beef trimmings at least got some crabs.
We paddled through the passage between Swanson and Crease Islands, arriving at (I think) Lone Tree Island where we stopped for lunch. On the way back, Erica escorted the fishing boats (John/Dan and our boats) took a detour around the outside of Compton Island. Once we got outside of the rockfish conservation area, we put the lines in the water. Fishing from a double kayak works quite well: one person angles while the other paddler happens to provide a speed suitable to trolling.
Not even five minutes after we dropped the lines, I got a bite. It was a beautiful fish that we later identified as a greenling (using the booklet that used to be provided when one purchased a fishing license). There were some strange currents where West Passage opens into Blackfish Sound at the time as we could see standing waves on the surface all around us. Around the same time, we were suddenly surrounded by birds that clearly knew the bounty beneath the surface. They swarmed and dove for 5-10 minutes, then dispersed. We did not catch anything after that, and gave up after another hour or so of trying.
None of us had ever cleaned a fish before. Our primary source of information was Dan "I watched it on youtube" Georges. We weren't terribly efficient at the task (and now that I know better, there were many steps that we could have skipped entirely). But we eventually got fillets that made a tasty addition to dinner.
Greenling (male) |
Greenling |
It was this big! |
Fishers Dan, Andr&eactue;, Debra |
Showing respect for our catch |
The fishing crew |
André and his catch |
André and his catch |
The contradicting interests of the group finally led to a choose your own adventure day. Michael and Tina went off to far away lands (with some debate regarding how much gear they should bring should they get caught by inclement weather or currents). Marsha and Christine set off on a whaling expedition. The two fishing vessels headed back out to Blackfish Sound.
We spent a couple of hours trolling with no bites. As the need to visit pee beach grew, we decided to call it a day. Dan and John kept fishing while we detoured to pee beach. We had devised the clever signal of madly waving one's arms from the kayak to indicate that a fish was caught and assistance from the other boat was required. So as Deb and I returned to our boat, we saw Dan and John flashing our clever signal. We zipped out to help them stash John's catch - another greenling - into the fish hatch (front hatch of their kayak).
Then it was their turn to visit the pee beach on Compton Island. Conveniently, that let us hang out in the channel outside of the rockfish conservation area, so we trolled while we waited. And when they returned to their boat, they also saw us signing the clever signal. This time, it was Deb that snagged a fish - an exceptionally ugly one with the biggest mouth to body ratio I've ever seen on a fish. I wanted to throw it back, and Deb agreed, but John thought we should keep it, so into the fish hatch it went.
The greenlings are mild, with very tender flesh. The cabazon meat is quite firm, and also fairly mild. Most of us preferred the greenling, but John made the right call keeping the cabazon since he definitely liked it better. Incidentally, I've seen live cabazon at T&T for $15/pound.
Finally it came time to start staging our return journey. As marine conditions can be quite unpredictable, we left ourselves several days to attempt the crossing of Johnstone Strait. We packed up quite early to ensure that we could round Cracroft Point by midmorning when the tide was slack. So serious about departing on time we were that we imposed the wet German protocol - if everyone wasn't ready to leave by 10am, we would start throwing people in the water, starting with the Germans.
Johnstone Strait was quite calm when we got there. But we decided to stay outside the strait for one more night and camp at Swaine Point. There might have been some bias as it puts us physically closer to Robson Bight, and hence increases our chance of seeing whiles. Unlike Mound, the campsite at Swaine is quite limited in capacity, and some of the tent sites are just platforms of driftwood perched in crevasses in the rocks on the headland. Fortunately there was nobody else there as our group of 11 was barely able to find adequate sites for all of our tents.
We had lunch on the rocky point, then relaxed for the afternoon. We watched fishing boats pass, kayaks paddle (one of whom was none other than Larry), sea lions swim and feed, and our first whales of the trip! Larry had said that there weren't many whale sightings lately, but we did hope that we might be able to see some once we moved our base to the strait. Besides, our trip last year set pretty high expectations for whale sightings. So we were quite pleased to see the orcas swim westward up the strait. (Happy birthday!)
Attempting to cross the strait, we once again invoked the wet German protocol to maximise the chance of favourable conditions for the crossing. Our party successfully launched right at 10am, and we hadn't even left the cove yet when we were greeted by a pod of killer whales swimming west up the channel. They swam right by us, not more than 20m from some of our boats.
The plan was to travel west a bit, then turn and make a straight crossing, aiming for a small beach. Fortunately for our travel plans, the whales were heading in the same direction as we were (as some in our group have a tendency to forget all about plans in order to follow whales). Even more fortunate were the appearance of more whales out in the channel around when we were to begin our crossing. The main obstacles we encountered were the trawlers and the nets they had laid all over the channel.
Looking out from the tent in the morning |
Nutella pb bagel, shroom scramble |
We arrived at the beautiful rocky beach less than an hour and a half later, and took the chance to soak up the sun. While we were out on the water, there were lots of salmon jumping out of the water, so after lunch, Dan decided to take a single kayak out to try his luck. It was doomed to failure though, as the current dragged him eastward, away from Kaikash Creek (our destination that evening), and away from shore. Being a solo paddler, he could not manage a course for the boat while he worked the rod. Not only that, but he even had a segment of his rod detach and fly with his cast.
At the cost of some immaturity points, Michael paddled out to keep Dan company (and safe), and eventually they returned to Lazy Beach. Almost immediately, a fishing boat came and landed. Were they here to check our fishing licenses? No! The captain said that our captain needed some help, and asked for a couple of strong people to come over. He then handed Dan an enormous chinook salmon. We thanked him, but he wasn't done yet. He reached into his coolers and pulled out a second enormous chinook. We thanked him some more and offered to pay for the fish (which, of course, he declined). He then pulled out a third fish to hand over. By this point, we were quite sure certain that there was no way we could eat so much fish, and we all stepped back from the boat, explaining that there were only 11 of us and we had no way to store the fish. He would have none of that, and tossed the third fish in the water by our feet and putted off.
After a short whale distraction, we finally packed up the boats to head up to Kaikash for the night. Based on Michael and Deb's previous experience, we had expected that there would be many campers there to share Dan's catch of pity fish. It was not to be though, and there were only two groups there and one of them declined our offer. The other was a guided group, and their guide Kate not only accepted a fish, but she also shared with us the secret of backcountry refrigeration, her large pan, and demonstrated how to fillet the fish. She too fishes from a kayak, and she explained to us how she fashioned a rod holder for the kayak with a piece of pipe and bungees which allows her to paddle while fishing by herself.
The smallest fish had been taken by Kate, and the middle sized one was a marked hatchery fish (missing adipose fin), so we opted to eat the largest one. Dan and John cleaned it following Kate's example, and cut the meat into a dozen or so fillets. Tried as we might, we only got through about half of the fish.
I cleaned the third fish before dinner (keeping the head, of course, to deposit in the DFO freezer as they want to recover the heads of all caught hatchery fish for research). We wrapped that fish and the half eaten fish in garbage bags. Using a partly broken paddle as a shovel, we dug holes just above the high tide line and buried the bags. Carefully marking the locations so that we could find the fish again, the technique kept the fish cold enough to ward off spoilage for the next two days.
The hourly whale shows started early. Having already slept through a 7am show, we were up for the first encore. Deb was actually in the wooden closet some 100m up in the woods, but was encouraged to run out quickly by the sounds of a whale blowing just off the beach.
Dan and Erica went for a day paddle down towards Robson Bight (including being offered beverages off of a sailboat). The rest of us had an incredibly lazy day on the beach, watching the hourly whale visits. It seemed that the pods mostly went westward early in the day and back eastward later in the day. We learned that apple pies do not bake well in a deep pot; it turned out much more poached instead.
For dinner, Dan and Tina joined forces with our food group (Cynthia, Michael, John, Debra, me). We laid out on the table all remaining ingredients from the various meals past and yet to be. With salmon as the secret ingredient, we had a cooperative episode of Iron Chef. Our dishes were: nut crust salmon, maple syrup salmon, salsa and mango salmon, hoisin sauce salmon, and soy and lemon salmon. After two dinners, we finally finished off one fish.
Iron chef secret ingredient: salmon |
Scenic kitchen |
One of many courses of salmon |
Tranquil sunset |
The site did get a bit buggy after dusk. Enough so that some of our ladies converted to Islam.
Burka ladies |
Deb is converted |
The group efficiently packed up and headed out on the water so that some of the paddlers could return to Vancouver that day. The weather finally took a turn for the worse, and it started to rain on our paddle back to Telegraph Cove (although that was not enough to deter Michael from going skinny dipping at one beach in a cove). We were back in Telegraph Cove by noon.
John, Deb, and I had no plans after the kayaking. There was talk of doing something up north on the island since we were already there, and it's a long enough drive that we don't head that way often. However, the rain convinced us otherwise. We stopped in Port McNeil for a cheap cooler, ice, and lunch before driving down to Duncan to visit Jim and Alana.
We gave the extra salmon to Jim and Alana (especially since we didn't know if anyone could store it until the next episode of Iron Chef). In exchange, we got some really nice smoked salmon. We also got to see Jim fillet the fish in less than five minutes (on a plank on the washer/dryer).
John, Deb, Jim looking out over the fountain |
Deb and puppies |
Fish on fillet board |
Expert filleter at work |
We had time before our ferry to get dinner at Friend's in Nanaimo.
Friends course 1 |
Friends course 2 |
