Broken Islands trip report

Last month, I took a five day kayaking trip to the Broken Islands in Barklay Sound, off the west coast of Vancouver Island. It was something I'd been talking about for at least six years, despite the fact that I have only spent one night of my adult life under canvas. Since then I've been editing photos and working on and off on a trip report that just kept getting longer and longer as I remembered things and looked up details. It was just about an ideal trip. The setting was beautiful, ideal for kayaking, our guides were capable, mellow and entertaining, the group just gelled, and after the rain and wind of the first day, the weather was as good as it gets in September on the west coast. And everywhere we turned, we saw a whale. Here's the full trip report, on a separate page over on my other blog: Broken Islands trip page.

And should anyone wonder: yes, my missing sock reappeared.

A Sad Reminder -- Wear That Safety Gear

To me, this is a clear example of people not getting it. One survivor described the conditions when they launched as "about seven-foot swells and 85-, 84-kilometre-an-hour winds." How eight experienced adventure racers could launch into extremely rough and cold ocean water without wetsuits, some in a racing kayak as opposed to a sea kayak, and apparently without radios or other communications equipment is beyond my understanding.
We kayak. What we do can be dangerous. Even on the calmest days, we are taking a risk going out on the ocean. Going out without doing everything possible to mitigate those risks is foolhardy at best.
These experienced people made poor decisions on Sunday. A rescue worker said, "The weather conditions were forecasted. They were known. It was a poor choice on their part. They wore life vests, but otherwise they were all poorly dressed for the conditions."
It might be unfair to Monday morning quarterback this awful accident. I don't know these paddlers; I have no idea if they were capable of paddling in these conditions or not. I wasn't there, I wasn't privy to their decision-making process. But somewhere along the way that process went awry. They were woefully under-equipped and unprepared for being out on the water, and two paddlers didn't come back.

Sunday weather

Sunday weather was challenging all round, in this part of the world. The paddle group didn't have an outing set, so Bernie went out for a solo paddle. I carried some of his gear down to the beach (we live a stone's throw from the water in Cadboro Bay) and saw him off, saying "Paddle safely!"
That's the same advice other paddlers were giving each other in Howe Sound that day.
Bernie didn't paddle all that safely. Not all that bad, of course, as he did return. But two of the other paddlers in Howe Sound didn't make it.
Bernie went out across Baynes Channel to Chatham, and coming back, he got caught in the freight train, as our neighbour calls it. The current in that channel runs like a river, and makes a series of standing waves.
The good news is that Bernie now knows his new wooden kayak can handle metre and a half waves. (That's something I can't see over when standing, let alone sitting in a kayak!)
The bad news is that the paddlers in Howe Sound must have made mistakes, by the definition of our black-humoured joke: "It isn't a mistake if nobody dies."
Go to the following URL for CBC's story about the two who died, the two who went to hospital, and the other four on that adventure:
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2007/10/08/kayak-death.html
It seems like these were extremely fit, healthy and adventurous paddlers and sports enthusiasts. But even all their experience and strength wasn't enough when the wind crested to 80 klicks or more, and the waves reached seven feet or so. The group were wearing only sports tights instead of wetsuits or drysuits, and nobody wore a PFD. Apparently they didn't have cell phones or a marine radio, as the call for help didn't go out till one of the double kayaks got to shore.
Yes, I feel like a harping auntie and a coward on our own groups' outings. And it's so easy to second-guess someone else's mistakes. But part of why we talk about our outings on this blog is to second-guess our own mistakes, laugh at them where we can, and learn from them.
We have been so lucky on our own outings. Part of that is absolute luck when the weather changed or we mis-read the currents.
But a big dollop of that luck is being prepared.
Safety gear (ropes, pumps, paddle floats, spare paddle, lights, whistles, air horn). Cold water clothing. Drybag with clothes, food & mini-stove for a hot drink. Cell phones and marine radios. Compasses. Look back through our posts since this blog began, and it shows that we gradually got all this gear together, as we gradually began paddling in more challenging places than a small, sheltered lake.
Looking at Bernie when he returned from the freight train, still shaken, was not a heart-warming experience. But he came back, and an hour later was already making light of the challenge he'd faced.
Two of those paddlers in Howe Sound didn't make it. Two went to hospital for hypothermia. And four did the best they thought they could.
I don't want the same thing to happen for our paddle group -- for anyone else, frankly -- and I'm trying to figure how it would be less likely. The big one that comes to mind (after ensuring each paddler has cold water clothing, PFD, safety gear and a drybag) is not setting out from Anvil Island into rough weather. Camping on the island overnight should be an option, even if only with space blankets, granola bars and hot drinks.
Our group talks about how each of us is feeling, and we try to admit our fears. The conditions probably became abruptly worse for the paddlers in Howe Sound. When luck is a factor, you have to bring all the best luck with you.
My paddle partner brought planning preparation and strength to his challenge. He came back.

Caddy Bay Turkey Day Paddle

It's with thanks on this Thanksgiving day that the weather gods blessed us with a few hours of sunshine this morning between weather fronts, so a quick paddle at Cadboro Bay was in order.
Louise and I drove there listening to a CD I'd made of songs from various "Simpsons" episodes. It didn't go over as well as I thought it would. This really has nothing to do with the paddle, but it does set up my closing joke for this paddle report.


Here's Bernie's new boat. We haven't made fun about how pink Paula's new boat is, so it wouldn't be fair to make fun of how yellow Bernie's boat is.


Unfortunately, Bernie's new boat doesn't have any room to store gear so he has to keep it all on his deck. Ha! I'm kidding -- got ya!
Actually, it looks like he has quite a lot of room for storage using his own patented design for the hatch covers. And as Bernie says, he'd rather have a kayak that when upside down looks big, yellow and unnatural than like a piece of driftwood.


Here's Bernie boat in action.


Paula is still enjoying her new Eliza.....


...while Louise just can't wait to get going.


This was my first paddle with my new carbon shaft. (You heard right, ladies.) I picked it up at the Ocean River sale a couple of weeks ago. I love it. It's a little shorter than my usual paddle (a 240cm paddle, down from a 245cm paddle), so that took a a little getting used to. But it sure is light and strong.
It was a sunny day when we started -- here's the picture to prove it.


We made it to Flower Island and were planning to cross to Jemmy Jones Island. Louise was having contact lens trouble, one had fallen out, and so her vision was not reliable. The wind had come up and was making waves, not enough to be a real issue, but enough to combine with her lens trouble and put Louise out of her comfort zone. So while Paula and Bernie headed out to Jemmy Jones, Louise and I stayed behind at Flower.


This gave me a chance to try out my other new piece of equipment, a new Sony DSC-H9 digital camera. I've retired my film camera. I just paid $75 to develop three rolls of film, get one set of prints each and a digital scanning of each roll. So this camera will save me money, save a little piece of the environment, and it has a monster zoom lens on it to take some great pictures. Check out this heron!



We saw these gulls that we've not seen before. They looked like regular seagulls, but were gray and smaller with bright orange beaks. They also sounded like they were barking when they chirped.


Bernie came in close to check out the gulls.


We headed back to shore as the wind came up.


We headed to the beach and to the end of our quick paddle, but as you have probably guessed, by the time we got the kayaks all loaded up, the sun came out again.


Next week, we had the idea to paddle at....never mind, maybe it's more of a Shelbyville paddle idea...

John's photos are here.

Another Inflatable...

Yakka: the world's first rigid-hull inflatable kayak. The Yakka gives you the paddling performance of a rigid-hull kayak with the added safety and comfort of an inflatable. Even better, it folds in half and can be easily stowed in a van or SUV. The integrated transport wheel lets you pull the Yakka to the easiest launching spot before unfolding it. Hull is made of a rigid polyethelene. Inflatable top section is made of nylon.
Folded dimensions: 59"L x 27"W.
Unfolded length: 9'4".
Width: 30".
Weight capacity: 264 lbs.
Color: Red/White.

Sunday Non-paddle

Welcome to the first Sunday paddle day of Fall. You can tell it's a Fall paddle day because it's so windy and rainy that we didn't actually paddle. Sort of like much of this year's summer. In fact, it feels like December out there after the first storm of winter blew through last night.

So without any further ado, here's a kitty in a kayak!

Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast

As Bernie and I were headed up the Island Highway, we passed a young guy walking along the shoulder. With one hand he was pulling along an orange kayak that looked like a good one for playing in the surf, on a set of wheels, with a bag of gear in the cockpit. In the other hand, he held up a piece of cardboard with the word "Tofino" written in large, friendly letters.
Now that's an optimist.
I would bet just about anything he got his ride before many minutes passed.
Heck, if we'd had enough room under the truck's canopy for his boat (there's a loom and a CPU in the back of the truck, don't ask why) we'd have taken him to Tofino. We had our kayaks strapped to the roof, and our gear loaded. Who needs more luggage than a drybag, really? This guy didn't.
I have so much to learn.

Sunday to Newcastle Island

The day started with everyone meeting up for breakfast at ToHo's. It was a nice, relaxed breakfast with conversation and a chance to read the Saturday Globe and Mail over coffee and a couple of those still-some-ways-from-good breakfast sandwiches they sell.
The idea of a long-ish drive up to Nanaimo and then a paddle was discussed and finally rejected in favour of the far better idea of a return to the lovely community of Cowichan Bay. As this would be Bernie's fifth trip to Cow Bay in the last ten weeks, he was selected to lead the convoy over the Malahat.
It turned out to be a most beautiful morning in CB, the tide was ebbing, the water glass-flat. The sun was out, the temperature about 15°, and while the boat ramp was in use, it was by no means busy.
Before even begining to unload the boats, there was much delight in watching the local harbour seal fishing in the shallow waters; he (or she) cruised about near the dock, plainly visible even while fully submerged. Once the boats were in the water, there was the added bonus of seeing a large number of Dunganess crabs, various jelly fish, multiple sea stars, and at least three moonsnails. With the water so clear and the sun out, it was also possible to do a lot of fish watching, with several species of fish being observed.




The group headed across Cowichan Bay to Genoa Bay(?), where there was a very busy marina. After paddling across the channel in front of the marina, we pulled into a midden beach where people have been eating clams and oysters since about six minutes after the glaciers retreated. We perched ourselves on the top of the small bluff overlooking the channel--really, the most obvious place to sit--where we saw that the practice of eating oysters and tossing the shells back towards the water continued right into the present day (probably less than two hours before we arrived, actually).
After a brief lunch, the group continued down the north(ish) side of the bay out to the light on the point. Here it was not much more than spitting distance across to Saltspring Island. So, after taking turns spitting, we decided not to paddle across (the people on the other shore waving their fists and yelling about having been spit at was only one reason for the decision).
Across the mouth of Cowichan Bay to the south shore and then back along that shore to the boat ramp completed the eleven kilometres or so of paddling for the day. By this time, the parking lot at the boat ramp was full and over-full, as everyone had decided that it was a good afternoon to be on the water, and once again we'd already had the best part of the day on the water before the rest of the world showed up.
Then it was into town for coffee and dark chocolate buns (Mmmmm, Callebeaut chocolate....) from the artisanal bakery and a refreshing wander through the cheese shop, and then it was regretfully time to come home.
Once again, Bernie and Paula led the convoy of one back over the Malahat and into the comforting confines of Cadboro Bay, having finally paddled both their new boats together for the first time.

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So where was Bernie?

Spent last weekend testing out the new boat. 5 metres is supposed to be long enough for expeditioning, so how better to test out the proof of concept than a long trip? Okay, maybe not so long, but we'll get to that.

I had planned to set out back on tuesday the 11th, but fog got in the way. As it did wednesday. As it seemed ready to do thursday (but finally did not). So friday, once it became clear that the fog probably wouldn't re-develop, Paula and I set off to Island View Beach to check on conditions there. Clear! And looking to stay that way! Woohoo!





Straight ahead paddle to D'Arcy. The outflow current from Sidney Channel met the wind, creating some rather large-ish waves (say, 3/4ths of a metre or so), but the new boat (no, it still hasn't told me it's name) handled them well. Even when there was two sets of waves at 90° to each other, I found that 5 metres tended to deal quite handily with the action of the water. And the curve on the forward part of the kayak shed water very well--even when the bow plowed through a wave, the water would break off well before reaching the cockpit. Very nice indeed.
Not so nice, it turns out, was my attempt at hatch covers. There was enough leakage that they are up for a complete re-design.

D'Arcy was interesting. First off was the old caretaker's cabin on the western side of the island.



For much of the 20th century, D'Arcy was a leper colony--most specifically, a leper colony for immigrant workers diagnosed with the disease.
The campground on D'Arcy is located on the opposite side of the island--pretty much where the housing for the inhabitants was located. That's a very strange feeling, sleeping with the dead.

I was woken up the next morning by a deer bouncing through my campsite at 4:30 am. Eventually I got up and was on the water at about 8:00am, headed for the south end of Sidney Island.




I travelled up the outside/Haro Strait edge of Sidney, finally stopping at Sidney Spit. An hour later, I headed out towards the Little Group, stopping on Dock Island.
Dock has what I thought was a built inlet:



But I found several other of these straght-sided square inlets on Coal Island as well. I have no idea how they formed or why they took this shape.
Carried on up the side of Coal Island--I was getting kind of tired at this point, as all my paddling had been in opposition to the current, and I was pushing 135 kilos with every paddle stroke. So when I made the long(ish) jump across from Coal to Portland, I was looking forward to finding the campsite quickly.
And I did; the capsite in Portland was right at the tip of the island where I arrived. There was one small problem though; two dozen double kayaks that had been filled with teenagers. Tents had been set up everywhere and the kids were in highly excited high drama mode. Thankfully a passing group of kayakers mentioned that there was still room at the Arbutus Point campsite, another twenty minutes or so ahead. Well, twenty minutes at the rate my tired body was paddling.



Nice campground, and thankfully peopled only with adults. I wasn't the only one who needed the services of the sun. The day had been overcast and damp, with humidity at or above 100%, so nothing had dried in the least during the day. And with the amount of moisture I'd generated paddling, everything needed to be hung out to dry.



Everyone had a laundry line hung with all their paddling gear.
Portland Island also had toilet facilities. Now, normally I wouldn't mention them, except that this was different; a composting toilet (the first one installed, according to a sign) was tucked off in the bush.




Oh my, what a difference. No smell, no flies, and no nasty moisture build-up in the outhouse. The sooner these go into every park, the better!
I could barely wait for dark before crawling into my bivvy. But dark also brought out the monsters. Well, the growling, snapping, screeching raccoons, anyway. At least five of them, fighting and scavenging around the campsite, waking everyone. Nasty words were hurled (along with the occasional stick) but they did leave my site pretty much alone. Guess I was clean enough that they went looking elsewhere.
When I got up at 6:00am (yeah, really slept in!), I spotted the last of the raccoons headed up a tree for the day. By 8:00 am the rain had arrived, so I put off plans to head over to Cowichan bay, and instead headed back to Sidney for pick-up.




But before I left Portland Island, I was gifted with this sight over Saltspring:

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Broken Island photos

I've been ambushed by assorted imaginary people, expecting completion of their novel/story, so I haven't finished my writeup from the Broken Islands yet, but here's the Flickr set, and here are the panoramas.

Thetis Lake Raw Bacon Practice Extravaganza

Well, where to start.
The idea was to have a practice session as Paula wanted to try getting in and out of her new boat, and I wanted more self-rescue practice to try a few new rescue techniques out, and to practice some new assisted rescues that Bernie had learned. We were also going to enjoy our new tradition of cooking breakfast on the beach before heading into the water.
As it turned out, it was just Louise, Paula and myself today. As for breakfast, Bernie decided to do an over-nighter on Portland Island. Why he felt he needed all three stoves for a two-day trip is something that is puzzling. One thing for sure - my breakfast of raw bacon was sure yummy.
Louise was suffering from contact lens trouble and had forgotten her paddle jacket, so she ended up not paddling.
But Paula and I were still keen to practice, so already wet from the rainy day, and hungry from no breakfast we set out.


Paula steeled herself.....


...and in she went!


Oh, yeah. We're having fun now.


We tried a couple of rescues. First, I helped Paula in an assisted rescue, then Paula did a solo paddle float rescue.


She had a wee bit of trouble figuring out how to get in...


...as her new kayak has a smaller cockpit than her old one.


But she did it! Then I took a couple of turns getting dunked and did a couple of solo paddle float rescues.


Enough playing in the water... time to get warm!


John's pictures are here.

Why I'm Not On Darcy...

Mostly because, contrary to popular opinion, I'm not an idiot.




This is what the beach looked like halfway out of the bay a little after 3:00pm. Looks kinda foggy, doesn't it? Looking the other way--out towards Baynes Channel and Haro Strait, there's Paula headed out into a wall of fog.



After we rounded the point by Flower Island, things got worse.



And worse.



Visibility was pretty bad--we couldn't see Jemmy Jones from Flower, for example--so I decided that Darcy wasn't in the cards today. It had been sunny and clear when I carried the boat to the beach, and fogged in by the time I got three days of gear loaded. It didn't clear until we got back to the beach [Hey, Frankie! Hi, Annette!]. The weather had made it clear; no trips today.
On the plus side, we did see this heron at the rock garden!



yeah, he's there. That stick with the spot of colour at the top. That's a heron, trust me....

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Egg Sac Hunt and Tillicum Road Portage

Last year at this time, we paddled into Portage Inlet and found these strange little sacs in the ground in the far arm of the Inlet.


We were quite puzzled by them (some sort of egg sacs were our guess), and Paula and Louise did some investigating. Eventually they ended up in contact with Dr. Kelly Sendall of the Royal British Columbia Museum (free plug: go see their Titanic exhibit!)
Dr. Sendall expressed an interest in joining us for a paddle to look for more egg sacs and today he joined us far a paddle in the Inlet.


It was, finally, a beautiful summer day. Too bad there's only 12 days left in this summer.


Paula is the proud parent of a new Eliza kayak. She likes it a lot. And I won't make any jokes about the colour.
None at all.
Nosiree.
It sure is pink, though.


As we headed out, this seagull was munching on an early Sunday brunch.


And away we go into Portage Inlet! It was Paula, Alison, Louise, Dennis and myself joining Kelly who was borrowing Bernie's boat as he skipped the science part of the paddle.


Soon we were out at the first point where we found some of those sac thingies. They were few and far between compared to the prime spot last year which was at the far end on the inlet, and the floor was also very thick with algae or muck, so they were tough to see, much less photograph.


I took about 100 pictures of people leaning over their kayaks looking down.


We headed down to the far end of the Inlet but just as we were getting near to where we found fields of these egg sacs last year, we discovered that the tide was too far out. We all grounded and couldn't proceed any further. We might have gotten out and walked, except that the bottom was really squooshy and that probably wouldn't have worked. So if you've ever had a desire to see a panorama picture of five kayaks stuck in the mud, your wish has just come true.


So with mission not quite accomplished, we headed back.



We bid goodbye to Kelly, and Bernie joined us to continue down The Gorge.


The game of musical kayaks continued as Paula and Louise swapped boats, giving Louise a chance to try Paula's new ride. Louise likes it a lot, too. Will the fleet pick up another Eliza? Stay tuned next year!




No paddle would be complete without a picture of a heron. Today's paddle was no exception.



We approached Tillicum Bridge. This would usually be the turn-around point, as most times going under the bridge is problematic due to fast currents and a large rock. You can get through easily during a slack high tide, but that's a rare moment in the tide cycle.


Today it wasn't at it's worst, but we could see there was some whitewater, so we turned around. Well, some of us turned around. Bernie and Dennis decided to run the rapids.
No pictures exist of this event, but we watched as first Bernie then Dennis went under the bridge. We heard no Crazy Bernie Laughter™ or shouts for help, so we assumed they made it okay. But we weren't totally sure as the rapids washed them out of our sight.
Paula put her feet up and relaxed -- she's had years of experience dealing with Bernie.

And they did turn up eventually. After they went through to the other side, Dennis and Bernie realized that the current was strong enough that they wouldn't be able to paddle back against it so they would have to put-in and portage back. The problem was that there isn't much in the way of pull-outs on either side. Both sides of the channel on either side of the bridge are rocky and steep. Eventually, they found a spot and then carried their boats back through a park, up the hill to the top of Tillicum Bridge, and across four lanes of traffic.
Then they realized that there was no place to put-in. They had to walk a long block to the Victoria Canoe and Kayak Club and there they re-entered the Gorge after completing our first official portage.
It was a great day for a fun, relaxing paddle. Even the seagulls were relaxing.


John's pictures are here.