Saturday, October 3, 2026

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.  A tent site is claimed when a paddler thows a stick on a site and says "I throw my stick".  This throwing is done in a predetermined order.  

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

Invented by my trip partner, Dave Resler, it is used for determining the daily order of choosing tent sites.  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. 

 

Monday, January 19, 2026

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.