Kayaking Hacks ~ The Throwing of Sticks

In many parts of the kayaking world the choosing of a tent site is easy business.  Expansive dry beaches or open uplands make it a simple thing to set up a tent and have a pleasant night’s sleep.  In such locations if you wish to put some space between you and your trip partner(s) you can simply take a stroll and choose a place that is flatter, softer, firmer, has more sun, more shade, is more spacious, more intimate or maybe just out of range of their snoring.  In that perfect camping world, there are no losers because everybody gets a great tent site.  Everybody wins. 

Elbow Camp ~ Meyers Passage

Unfortunately, where I travel, less than ½ the beaches allow for everyone to win the Tent Site Lotto so we have come up with something that works for us and we call it The Throwing of Sticks.  Invented by my trip partner, Dave Resler, it is used for determining the daily order of choosing tent sites. 

Clifford Bay ~ 52˚34'16"N   129˚08'52"W

At the put-in we play Rock-Paper-Scissors to determine the order of Throwing Sticks and it remains in place until the end of the trip.  When landing at a potential campsite a quick assessment is made to determine if decent tent sites are plentiful or if stick throwing needs to be invoked.   If good ones are scarce, each paddler picks up a stick and walks the beach.  The paddler with first choice throws their stick down on the spot he/she wants to claim.  Then, number two throws followed by number three, etc.  Once all sticks have been thrown any paddler is free to pick up their stick and choose a different unclaimed tent site.  The next day, camper number two gets to throw first.  The day after that belongs to camper three.  If a paddling day ends at a beach so sweet that every spot is a winner and no stick throwing is required the order is carried over a day or until a less than stellar campsite is encountered. 

A veteran tip for new players is to know that there is a bit of gamesmanship involved for the paddlers early, but not first, in the order.  For instance, if you throw second or third you want to take your time in prioritizing your choices and not tip your hand.  You may see something in a tent site that the paddler throwing ahead of you doesn't notice.  If you fawn over your first choice and stand in it before your turn others may take a closer look at it and choose it before you get the chance to.  Just sayin'.

Crap Camp ~ 53˚22'59"N   130˚16'01"W

Sometimes a stick thrower may claim an upland site that isn't a site at all but appears to be more level or require less clearing.  At Crap Camp on Banks Island there wasn't a single site above high tide large enough for a two-man tent.  It was Dave's turn to throw first so he claimed the only level spot on the 15 meter wide beach.  It was above the driftwood and only large enough for his tent to be partially spread, but it was the best site.  I was second so I picked an uneven sloping spot atop a pile of logs pressed tight against the rocks lining the beach.  It was way too small for my Hubba Hubba but was the second-best tent site in our tiny cove.  There was no third spot left large enough for Greg's one-man tent, so he had to sit in the rain and wait until the tide ebbed sufficiently to allow enough wet sand between the driftwood and water for him to set up. 

Safety Cove ~ 51˚32'07"N   127˚54'30"W

The three of us have covered a lot of miles together on the outer BC coast and Edge of Great Bear route.  I suspect that without our stick-throwing-code we would have killed and eaten each other just to make it easier to set up camp. 

 

Morning on Cockle Bay

 

We bedded down for the night in the large Heiltsuk cabin on Cockle Bay.  In the morning, we planned for a short 9 mile paddle to Gale Passage where we would spend the night.  From there, Greg would leave and paddle 16 miles solo to catch the ferry at Bella Bella while Dave and I carried on to Port Hardy. 

Since our planned mileage to Gale Passage was modest I had anticipated sleeping late so I was surprised to be wakened by Greg before sunrise.  He had been up a while drinking coffee and relaxing on the front porch but was now bent over my bunk with a finger to his lips signaling me to be quiet.  He whispered that he heard something walking on the rock shelf in front of the cabin.  He thought it might be a wolf. 

I slipped out of my sleeping bag and we tiptoed across the rough, uneven floorboards to the deck where we sat in the dark and calibrated our ears to the pre-dawn silence.  Listening carefully, we could just make out the faint footfall of an animal walking on the shelf out of sight to the left of the cabin. 

Soon, a wolf came into view, head down, intent on scavenging the tide line.  We held our breath and didn't move yet the wolf sensed our presence, looked up at us and froze a moment before his posture changed to prepare for flight.   He glanced back from where he had come and then walked quickly past us looking back as he went.  We heard the soft sound of more paws on the rock to the left and another pair of smaller wolves stepped in front of the cabin.  They quickly spotted us and took off back the way they had come. 

The larger wolf sat on the beach 50 meters to our right and began to howl.  The smaller pair answered him.  I had heard wolves before but these didn’t sound like anything I had ever experienced before.  Back and forth they called in an eerie, otherworldly language.  We could hear the smaller pair calling as they moved through the forest behind the cabin.  Soon, they joined their alpha and went about their business. 

I've never had a single bad morning on Cockle Bay.

 

Morning at Baker Point

 

We crossed Caamaño Sound to Aristazabal Island beneath thick fog and rising winds that would hit 25 knots before day's end. Landing in the lee of Baker Point before things got too sporty, we scouted for a campsite and found a small forest clearing—coated in eagle poop and barely big enough for one, maybe two tents. None of us fancied sleeping in that mess, so we opted for the logs instead. The weather radio warned of sustained northwesterly winds at 25 to 35 knots for the next couple of days.  It howled through the night.

Around 3:30 AM I got up to pee and assess the weather.  Crawling out of my tent I stepped towards the beach and on to something soft and alive.  Looking down, my headlight illuminated more toads than I had ever seen before.  The ground was covered with them feasting on insects that had come out of the beach detritus.  Stepping carefully, I walked forward towards the water until I was in a no toad zone.

I stood there and did my business while looking the four miles across Laredo Channel to where the mountains of Princess Royal Island were backlit with the dark rose promise of sunrise.  The sound of the wind in the trees and the chattering of the whitecapped seas provided the soundtrack as I looked straight up at black sky that was jampacked with stars. Suddenly a large yellow/orange meteor came into my vision from behind the trees on a NE heading.  It was colorful and shedding fiery debris, seemingly slow-moving and just before reaching the horizon, it faded and disappeared. 

After that I couldn't sleep so I fired up my Jet Boil to make coffee.  At the sound of my stove Greg crawled from his tent as he can never pass up the possibility of a cup coffee. 

Perched on a log, coffee in hand, we spoke of wind and water and toads and meteors while watching the sunrise paint the morning sky.

Blue Highways of the Inside Passage - Part I

Originally published 11/30/2016

Paddling the Inside Passage changes people forever.  Attempting it is bold.  Completing it is remarkable.  I stand in awe of those who have attempted or completed that task.

Living in Seattle I have the good fortune of being just a day’s drive from Port Hardy which is located at the north end of Vancouver Island.  That allows me access to the Canadian Coast that most North American paddlers would die for.  While I have paddled parts and pieces of the Inside Passage I lack the commitment that is required to do it from start to finish.

The planning and logistics of a trip of that magnitude are daunting and the time requirement can be tough to accommodate with our busy lives.  The Canadian and Alaskan Pacific Coastline is probably a long way from your home.  It certainly is for most North American paddlers so just getting to and from your put-in and take-out isn’t easy for most.   It takes tremendous commitment from beginning to end and I suspect that this combines to make the Inside Passage trip a one-and-done sort of experience for many paddlers.

The IP is well established and serves as the primary route for all water craft with only minor variations that are focused on efficiency of staying on task.  Little is mentioned about what lies just off the route by a day or of lesser-used parallel routes and from an efficiency standpoint that seems wise.

In 1982 William Least Heat Moon released the book “Blue Highways” which was his account of traveling around the United States using lesser used roads which, in the days of paper road maps, were blue in color.  Avoiding the interstate highways/established routes his experience was enriched by traveling the “road not taken”.  since it may be hard for you to return to this remote paradise consider incorporating some “Blue Highways” into your route planning. .………..just in case you don’t get back that way or you need fodder for planning another trip.

As Robert Frost once said:

I shall be telling with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Continued.........Hakai Luxvbalis.

Blue Highways - Hakai Luxvbalis - Part II

Traveling northbound on the IP you exit Fitz Hugh Sound by hanging a left into Lama Passage and following the shoreline of Denny Island to Bella Bella.  Most folks stop at Bella Bella / Shearwater to pick up a resupply, do laundry, take a shower, sleep in a real bed and/or to eat a real dinner of pizza and beer.  “Blue Highway-Hakai” recommends that you cross Fitz Hugh Sound after visiting the Addenbroke Light Station and work your way up Calvert Island’s steep eastern shoreline to Kwakshua Channel or Hakai Passage.  Both will take you west into the heart of Hakai Luxvbalis Conservancy Area which is an unspoiled region of magnificent beaches and stunning beauty.  Kwakshua is more protected from winds and its currents are light where Hakai Passage is magnificent but may display both in spades.

The Northwestern corner of Calvert Island is comprised of the Choked Passage complex with famous Wolf Beach, No-Name Beach and enormous North Beach.  Wolf Beach is well-named for its wolf population,  You may not see them but they will be all through your camp at night so don’t leave anything important out for them to steal.  No-Name Beach seems to have no name so that’s what I call it.  It is the least visited and most intimate but can be awkward if your comings and goings are at low tide levels.  If bigger is better then North Beach is the place to be.  At a little over ½ mile long it is the second largest beach on an island renowned for its deserted beaches.  It is also right on the corner of Choked Passage and the open ocean.

Blue Highways - Queens Sound / Bardswell Group - Part III

Swordfish Bay

An option to picking up your resupply in Shearwater is to have it sent to Klemtu, instead.  That makes Shearwater a discretionary stop rather than required and makes it easier to exercise the Queens Sound / Bardswell Group Blue Highway option.  Klemtu is a dry community, though, so no pizza and beer dinner.

If you are in a hurry to get back on the IP you need to reach Seaforth Channel.  From Cultus travel up Queens Sound on a strong flood and blow through Raymond Passage to Seaforth.  You will miss a lot if you do but will be back on task.  Instead consider stops at the Goose Group, the McMullin Group and the transit of Gale Passage.  That is a much more interesting route but more time consuming.

Blue Highways - Beyond Seaforth - Part IV

If you pick up your resupply in Shearwater be sure to take the time to visit the Heiltsuk Cultural Education Centre in Bella Bella.  You won’t regret it.  When I was there they were closed but opened up to us and provided a personal docent to help guide our journey.

Leaving Bella Bella you are on Seaforth Channel and can stay on task by following the IP north or take Seaforth out to Milbanke Sound and transit the Higgins Passage Blue Highway that separates Price and Swindle Islands.  It’s a good one.

Blue Highways - Laredo Channel - Part V

Morning on Laredo Channel

In the event that you are still outside and heading north up Laredo Channel you will soon face a really tough decision.  Do you stay out here or go back in to the IP?  Do you follow the Princess Royal Island shoreline into Whale Channel or travel up Estevan Sound along the western shore of Campania Island?  Your next supply stop is Prince Rupert and you can carry enough food from Shearwater or Klemtu to go either route.  Choices.

Both shorelines along Laredo Channel will hold your interest.  PRI features multiple inlets, tidal flows and First Nations significance.

Blue Highways - Campania - Part VI

You’ve done it now.  You crossed Caamano Sound to the south end of Campania.  You have been adding a day here and a day there with these route deviations but you were smart and included enough food in the Bella Bella / Klemtu supply drop to allow some choices and the weather days that the largest intact temperate rainforest in the world may choose to exact.  Your crossing was blessed with decent visibility that allowed for you to compare the vista looking far up Campania Sound towards Grenville  and towards the granite cliffs of Mount Pender and beyond.  No contest.

You have taken one more step towards forsaking the purity of the Inside Passage.  You rationalize the move by telling yourself that you can still get back to Grenville Channel through Otter Channel at the north end of Campania but the truth of the matter is that you are really starting to like it out here.  You like the big sky, exposure, large beaches and lack of wildlife drama.  If you want to share your beach with bears this isn’t the place to do it.

Blue Highways - Principe or Grenville? - Part VII

Afternoon on Campania

The morning forecast is for good traveling weather but Campania is special and worth spending a weather day on so you may choose to sleep late, drink coffee, read, do laundry, filter water, take a cold swim, nap on the warm granite slabs and catch fish for dinner.

  

You get an early start and travel up Estevan Sound along Campania’s convoluted shoreline for about 4 hours before reaching Otter Channel.  Otter separates Campania from Pitt Island and feeds into the waters stretching to the east and the Inside Passage.  It is your last chance to connect with Grenville Channel.  Whether you go for Grenville or Pitt you have to negotiate Otter Channel and it can be a crux move.  Ideally you are arriving at Otter at the turn to flood which will aid whichever choice you make.  A Spring ebb will thwart a direct line to Cherry Islets if Grenville is your choice and will work against you if traveling up Principe Channel. 

Blue Highways of the Inside Passage - Northern Outer Passages - Part VIII

If you decided to bail on the promise of the outside in order to experience Grenville Channel then you have already returned to the narratives of others.  Though the camping opportunities out here are not all roses the sky is bigger, the air is fresher and the chance of bear encounters slim to none.  Grenville does offer amazing, if somewhat claustrophobic, vistas of peaks plunging into deep water.  It’s the classic fjord experience.  I wish you the best.

Since you stuck around your next task is to paddle from Monkton Inlet to Ralston Islands.  It’s about 15 NM and Ralston sets you up at the south end of Anger Island where you are poised to choose between continuing up Principe or opting for Petrel Channel.  

Ralston has signs of First Nations significance with small clearings for single tents scattered throughout the forest above the beach.  If visiting during Springs you will need to tie your boats securely at the top of the beach or drag them up the slope into the forest.  Take some time to pick through the fist-sized rocks that the beach is composed of.  Really fascinating geology. 

Blue Highways of the Inside Passage - Stay Outside - Part IX

 

If you choose to travel up Petrel Channel I expect that you may camp across from Elbow Point.  From there it’s around 10 NM from Elbow Point camp to Gilbert Island which is just across Ogden Channel from the mouth of Petrel Channel. At Gilbert you will find good upland camping but a long slippery beach at low tide.  If you have another 7 or 8 NM in the tank you can make it to Oona River where lots of paddlers have sought civilized refuge.  Check out the accounts of others for details.  I know that Susan Conrad has stayed there and can help. 

From Oona River to Prince Rupert you are looking at a 20-plus mile day which is going to expose you to a change of currents and tide height.  Be aware that a strong ebb added to the outflow of the Skeena River can be a real treat (NOT) but might work in your favor.  The Skeena deposits huge amounts of silt between Kennedy Island and Port Edward.  Aside from impressive tide flats you may encounter surprising currents so do your homework.  I’ve only been that way once and I didn’t do enough study so I had a long day learning what not to do. 

If you travel up Principe Channel and camp at Hankin Point with the intent of spending some “exposed time” outside of Goshen, Porcher, Prescott and Stephens Islands you are in for a treat and this is where you carefully check the weather forecast to insure nothing crazy is on the way.  If weather has turned or is threatening you can turn into Ogden Channel and head towards Oona River.  On the other hand, if you stay outside, you will find a nice gravel beach just 12 NM away at Joachim Point on Goschen Island.  I’m not aware of any upland tent sites there but if I am going to camp on a beach I want it to be like Joachim Point.