Gabriola: All the Way Around

June-July 1995

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Peter Huston

Sandstone formations of Gabriola

Kayakers and other small boat people who live on an island sooner or later want to circumnavigate it. The paddle around my home island, Gabriola, is over 20 nautical miles (about 25 land miles), but with help, I have done it in two bites.

What inspired me was the Save Georgia Strait Marathon project-an annual fundraising trek across Georgia Strait made by person-powered craft of all types with careful supervision and escorts . At the time, the route started at Sechelt on the Mainland Coast and finished some 29 kilometres (17 miles) later in Nanaimo.

I and my writing friend Frank Bond decided to try this challenge, and put ourselves into training in my old but renovated folding kayak. This kayak had been found in a semi-wrecked condition on Hornby Island by my daughter several years ago. We cleaned it up and enjoyed paddling it around the area. But time and hard use had taken their toll, the skin fell into holes, and when we moved to Gabriola a major refit was undertaken, largely by my second son and his wife.

In order to participate in the Save the Georgia Strait marathon, Frank and I had some sea trials to perform. We had to be prepared to cross 29 kilometres of open water, from Sechelt on the BC mainland to Nanaimo, under our own power. We would have to train for it.

Our first paddle was from Descanso Bay to the Malaspina Galleries (named after Spanish explorers), and it was the first time I had seen these elegant sandstone formations from the sea. We found many examples of viewing from the close intimacy of a kayak which were different from the same sight seen from the beach or from further off in a larger boat.

We went out every two or three days on progressively longer expeditions. We launched from Degnen Bay several times, and learned to study the times of the fierce tides in the Gabriola Passage (site of a proposed Marine Protected Area now under consideration) and False Narrows. At the height of the flood or the ebb it was quite futile to paddle against these strong rivers of the sea, but at other times we could make use of the current, or paddle comfortably against a gentle tidal drift. Wind variability and the consequent size of waves was a more serious and unpredictable problem. However, the old double kayak proved quite seaworthy in modest wave action, with hardly any splashing into the cockpit. There was a tendency for it to carve to the right, and Frank, once a high powered engineer, studied the problem and improved matters with the use of the rudder and much careful adjustment.

Our training voyages took us from Degnen Bay along the south side of Gabriola to Descanso Bay, and another run took us past the peninsula between Twin Beaches to Orlebar Point (also known as Berry Point) to meet the noticeably bigger waves of the open Strait of Georgia. Here we landed with some awkwardness, particularly in getting the kayak up the rugged beach, having had a prolonged close-up view of the Gabriola cliffs and the reefs and rocks along the western end of Gabriola, where disembarking would have been difficult and sometimes impossible.

We were becoming accustomed to some of the living marvels of the shore and sea - the eagles sitting in their trees or circling overhead, the cormorants spreading their wings as they perched on rocks jutting from the water, the herons stalking solemnly in the shallows, and the seals coming up to look at us and smoothly slipping away as we passed.

One week before the Marathon we made our longest passage. We launched at Degnen Bay and went through the Gabriola Passage between Gabriola and Valdes Islands with the current, past the beach at Drumbeg Park into the Flat Top Islands. We took our time finding our way through these picturesque channels and came out into the Strait to meet comfortable sea conditions. Steady paddling westward along the north side of Gabriola took us off the Whalebone area. Respecting the rocks along that open shore, we stayed well out to sea, and I was surprised how difficult it was to locate landmarks.

I was unable to positively identify Hummingbird Park, where my eldest granddaughter and her chosen man had been married two months before, or Sperm Whale Lookout where my third daughter and son in law and their girls live. As we progressed past Lock Bay we found a fairly strong current causing us to track right, out to sea, and we had to do some quite heavy compensatory paddling on the right of the kayak to keep us on course. The wind was getting up as we rounded Orlebar Point, but in its lee, the water was quieter and we found the paddling fairly easy as we passed Twin Beaches, Malaspina Galleries and the ferry dock to our launch and landing site at the corner of Descanso Bay. We considered going on to Degnen, but the day was getting on. We had covered about 24 kilometres of sea and felt we were about ready for the Marathon.

Later, we attended a rescue class in Degnen Bay under the tuition of Howard Stiff, an experienced kayaker and a real expert. The course was really intended for those using much narrower rigid fiberglass kayaks. Howard and Alan Wilson (the WaveLength Magazine team) practised self-rescuing the double kayak they were paddling in the Marathon, but we did not think our wider, slower and more stable craft would take kindly to this so we opted out of the exercise. Nevertheless, we learned valuable lessons and equipped ourselves with a pump and a superior paddle.

Our last training episode was two days before going to Sechelt. Meaning to familiarize ourselves with Georgia Strait, we set out from Pilot Bay at Twin Beaches. The fresh breeze in the bay seemed a lot fresher out on the Strait, and the size of the waves seemed rather large for an unescorted voyage. We abandoned the trip and substituted an easier one, launching at False Narrows and proceeding down the shores of Mudge, Link and DeCourcy Islands to the marine park at Pirates' Cove. The waters between the islands were much calmer, as many navigators have found. We came back by way of Valdes and landed at Degnen Bay, feeling about ready for the epic voyage.

Our training program had benefitted us both in health and endurance. It would have been much more difficult without the backup provided by my wife and our van. She patiently delivered us to our launching sites and came to pick us up, and provided nourishing food and drink to take with us. A wonderful service, essential to the enterprise.

The gathering of people-powered small craft in Sechelt for the Marathon itself was interesting, as was the journey there, as I had never visited the Sunshine Coast before. But the weather was restless: cool, cloudy, and a wind was coming up.

The next day we were up early on the Sechelt beach, under a cloudy dawn. Whitecaps could be seen about 200 yards off shore, and the escort boats were bouncing up and down vigorously. Those responsible for the race looked more and more anxious as the wind got up and soon the whitecaps were only 50 yards out. Safety inspections were carried out on boats and people. The swimmers, three valiant and experienced long distance watermen, were started on their way. Eventually word from rescue boats moored at strategic points on the way across told of ten foot waves, getting worse towards the Vancouver Island shore.

Alas, the crossing was cancelled for all but a few expert kayakers who were to follow the swimmers. Our sponsoring moneys were symbolically transfered to their shoulders. But within a half hour they were cancelled too. Only one swimmer made it all the way, and it took him eleven hours for a passage he had done the previous year in eight. It was all something of an anti-climax, but most of us standing on that beach, looking at the fierce sea in the cool dawn were glad not to spend the day on it or in it.

Yet it was worth it. The practise runs had shown us our own seas at close quarters, the many colours of the water, the feel of wind and current, the touch of the kelp, the relief of approaching a landing after many hours of paddling. As for me, I had satisfied an ambition. I had, in my 73rd year, circumnavigated Gabriola Island.

Peter Huston is a retired doctor living with his family on Gabriola.