Kayaking Off British Columbia
Recreational river travel, including: packing the boat, gear.
July/August 1983
By Barbara J. O'Neill
At least one hundred years ago, Indian canoes were traveling among the islands of the Queen Charlotte and Johnstone Straits off the northeast corner of Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. Today, the rugged beauty of the waters cape there remains almost untouched, and small craft still ply through the channels . . . but now many of the boats are made of brightly colored vinyl, and brand-not family-names are emblazoned on their sides.
If you're in that neighborhood some summer and happen to see a group of five of these boats paddling along, with a blond, bearded man sitting in the stern of the leading vessel, you can be pretty sure that the fellow is Bruce Freeman . . . co-owner and -operator of Pacific Rim Expeditions. Bruce is out doing what the Indians did: looking for wildlife to shoot. But, unlike the old-time native Americans, he's scouting up suitable photographic subjects.
Bruce and his wife Gail manage their commercial venture from a base in Bellingham, Washington, and the area around the Straits is their favorite splashing ground. Every summer, they lead groups of ten (or so) on kayaking adventures about the Gilford Island cluster at the mouth of Knight Inlet (east of Queen Charlotte), the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington, or the Prince William Sound in Alaska.
The two of them are particularly fond of the Gilford area because of its wild creatures: seals, dolphins, eagles, ravens, and-more rarely seen-orcas or mine whales. Bruce admits, too, that he's fascinated by the "spookiness" of the place . . . the feeling that the ghost of the local Kwakiutl Indian culture lingers on. Time and again, he and Gail find themselves drawn back to a deserted native village-Mamalilaculla-on an island in Elliott Passage, where totem poles and the remains of a long house (communal dwelling or council hall) still stand amid decaying homes built by missionaries at the turn of the century. To Bruce's mind, it's a happy circumstance that the shallow flats fronting the beach keep big boats-and gobs of rubbernecks-at bay, yet allow a few visiting kayaks to slip quietly in to shore.
If you were to sign up for one of Bruce's expeditions, you might paddle to that intriguing abandoned island. Then again, you could spend much of your time venturing into the woods of other desolate isles that dot the waterways . . . singing or whistling (on Gail's advice) in order not to startle any bears that happen to be nibbling on berries. When you're not feeling that energetic, you could laze on the shore, watching clouds drift by snowcapped mountains, or keeping a lookout for dolphins, seals, and whales.
BAG YOUR BOAT?
But let's suppose you'd rather explore the Vancouver Island area on your own, with a group of personal friends. In that case, you're going to have to figure out what kind of craft you'll want to use.
Conventional kayaks or canoes-your own or rented-will maneuver well in these waters, but Bruce and Gail Freeman carol the praises of Folbot folding portable boats, which are approximately 17 feet long and 39 inches wide, and weigh about 70 pounds. The amazing thing about these craft-which essentially consist of vinyl-covered boat skeletons-is that they can be taken apart and put into bags, one around four feet long, the other the size of a suitcase! The unusual kayaks also have sharply pointed hulls, which give such stability that it's easy for even a beginner to paddle them . . . along with plenty of room for gear and the necessary flotation bags. And although the idea of jockeying through the awesome arctic waves in a "collapsible novelty" may seem a little dismaying at first, the Folbot does make a good, seaworthy craft.
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