Kayak Bill Camps - Dallas Island

Originally published October 17, 2017

Dallas Island was one of Bill’s primary camps.  At ~21NM from Shearwater it was midway to his camps on Aristazabal.  Dallas is located along the eastern edge of Milbanke Sound and at the entry to Finlayson Channel where it provided superb shelter and a clear view of conditions on Milbanke Sound prior to committing to crossing over to Higgins Passage.  It was a one or two day paddle from his shack on Brian Clerx’s property that he referred to as “Denny Island Camp”.  By leaving Shearwater near the turn to ebb he could get to the Ivory Island / Blair Inlet complex at the turn to flood.  This would give him a push north to Dallas for the final 7 NM.  If conditions or tides didn’t cooperate there were bivy camps scattered along Seaforth Channel and a couple of camps in Blair Inlet where he could hole up.

In 2007 Dave, Greg and I stayed at the Dallas Island Camp.  Bill had spent eight days here in June 2003 on his way out to his more remote camps and had spent two more nights in October on his way back to Denny Island Camp.  He was headed back to Shearwater to do some painting and resupply for what would turn out to be his last trip.  He had just two months to live. 

The camp was still in decent shape and we were astonished to find a narrow boardwalk that left his shelter and wandered through the forest.  At a fork in the boardwalk was a signpost with fanciful carved arrows pointing in both directions.  There was no lettering on the arrows to suggest where they led but choosing the right fork we found a platform built over a freshwater seep surrounded by Skunk Cabbage.  It was Bill’s water supply.  Following the other fork we found that it branched across the island and led up the hill. 

Ramps, stairs and flat catwalks wound through the forest in ways that suited Bill.  Seldom direct and often incredibly indirect to visit a favorite tree or to cross a ravine that didn’t need to be crossed.  The boardwalk was constructed of available materials.  Some of the stairways that climbed up the hillsides were made from round sections of logs cut to length and set into the ground.  Handrails were the norm and were built of long straight-ish sections of driftwood while the upright standards were often twisted and appeared to have been purposefully chosen for their artistic value rather than their function.  Some trees that had fallen across ravines had been shaved flat to provide a walking surface.  Some exhibited a cross-hatch pattern that had been hand-carved for traction while others had crushed shells pressed into their surface to provide secure footing.  One large sloping tree bridge had shallow stairs cut into it which could have only been accomplished with a ridiculous amount of effort.  Part of the path was constructed of 16 foot lengths of 4 x 12 lumber that he had found somewhere.  These pieces of lumber were very heavy and placed far into the forest.  He had to drag them for hundreds of yards along a winding up-and-down boardwalk to set them in place.  It had all taken a tremendous amount of time and labor.  Hung along the trail at strategic distances and at head height were small pieces of brightly colored plastic doo-dah flotsam to mark the way.  He had a large pile of them stored at his camp.

Due to soaking rainfall and our non-waterproof cameras we took just one photo that failed to show anything of what we had seen. 

Two years later while paddling the Outside Passage Dave, Greg and I stopped off at Dallas Island to eat lunch and see how the camp was faring.  Blessed with sunny weather I intended to take all of the images that I hadn’t taken on my last trip.  A bright new blue tarp had replaced the old and smoke stained one but the “trail” to the boardwalk showed no sign of foot traffic and was blocked by a fallen tree.  Picking my way through the branches and over a tree trunk I searched for any sign that would point the way but the forest had overtaken the trail.  The path was no more.  I retreated to Bill’s shelter and looked around.  The fire stand had been disassembled and replaced with a crude fire ring that was littered with beer cans.  The bed and bench were no longer in place.  Bill’s piles of odd and carefully sorted flotsam were scattered or gone altogether.  The windbreak had been modified and whole sections were missing, again, probably cut up and burned as firewood.

On August 1, 2017 I stopped at Dallas for the night.  I was expecting the worst but was pleasantly surprised to find that someone had put a tremendous amount of work into cleaning the camp up.  The frame of Bill’s shelter was in place and some of the windscreen was still standing.  Large pieces of wood that I recognized as furniture components had been pulled out of the camp and neatly stacked nearby.  The fire ring remained but all trash was gone.  Curious about the cleanliness of the site I searched the edges of the beach and forest and found the trash piled behind a large log and covered with a blue tarp.  In some plastic buckets I noted bits and pieces of Bill’s life style that would be hauled off and disposed of.  Just as well as it looked like garbage. 

Through the efforts of others, the site has been returned to a fairly pristine condition and the cleanliness will discourage power boaters from littering.  Once again it is a very nice place to camp.  My hat is off to whoever put the effort into making this site whole again.

Continued..........