WIND AND WONDER: Kayaking Haida Gwaii

Summer 2009

Exploration of Queen Charlotte Islands is at first intimidating, then enchanting - once the wind calms down.

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Other articles in this series: Fiordland The North Coast Trail Kyuquot Sound's Mission Group

Rennell Sound.

By Sheila Porteous

South end of Gillan Tombolo.

Buck Tombolo.

Kelp blown up by the windstorm litters the beach at Refuge Island.

The winds were blasting over the diminutive island at fifty-plus knots. The tents looked like soggy clumps of paper huddled in the grass; and me, I was standing with my head cocked to one side, with raindrops pelting my face, wondering what I was doing here. After spending the first two nights of the trip on the aptly named Refuge Island holed up in a rustic cabin, the thought of kayaking down the West Coast of Graham Island seemed barely plausible.

The plan to spend two weeks here was conjured up by a well-traveled group of Vancouver Island paddlers. I had been sucked in by the romantic notion of unspoiled shorelines, endless beaches and the adventure of a lifetime. (I never stopped to consider why this ‘spectacular destination’ was still relatively untouched.) Graham is the largest of the Queen Charlotte Islands, or Haida Gwaii in the more traditional name. Being unfamiliar with rainy expeditions that lasted longer than one week, I was truly beginning to panic. I wanted to go home. Fortunately, I was too ashamed (and afraid) to turn my kayak around, head back to Old Masset and beg the wise village elders to take care of me for a few weeks while my friends continued on.

On the tail end of the storm we set out to tackle Virago Sound, soon to be the most challenging kayaking I had ever done. With the current and swell opposing, the seas were a confusing mix of waves. As I floundered across feeling like a kernel of corn in a hot pot, all I can remember is chanting “paddle, paddle, brace! Paddle, paddle, brace!” The drunken fishermen that were rushing toward their luxury lodges in their 14-foot runabouts yelled over the wind that we were “crazzzy.” That didn’t help. And the trip had just begun.

But eventually the weather did break and the spectacular sights began to emerge. I never understood that a rainforest is really a temperate jungle until I paddled and camped along the shores of Graham. Wandering through the forests I realized that I could dig down with my bare hands for several feet and still not reach hard-packed soil. The vegetation was so abundant that I couldn’t take a single step without crushing a living organism, and I always felt like I was walking on the clouds. The dampness of Haida Gwaii permeated my clothing, my shoes and my heart, yet I never felt cold; quite the opposite. I was left feeling warm, nourished and somehow revived. The more time I spent the more content I became.

The bountiful plant kingdom was matched by the abundance of ocean creatures. Almost every day the majestic humpbacks kept us company throughout our long and sometimes lonely journey. Each night we hiked a bluff to look toward the next day’s destination, and gazed upon distant whales that were setting out toward the horizon. The eagles and ravens clung to the mountainous shores like bees to a hive, crying to each other with their haunting prose. Incidentally, it wasn’t all smooth sailing in the animal world. Black bears posed no trouble. Instead I was beset by the intertidal life. Setting up a tent meant clearing pristine moon snail and top shells off the beach, plus I almost flipped my kayak more than once staring at the myriad of colored urchins just under the waves.

I must mention that my paddling partners were some of the most exciting wildlife on the trip. An eclectic mix of unique individuals, they are imbued with a profusion of wilderness survival skills. From repairing a flat tire using driftwood for a jack, to building ovens big enough to bake goodies to feed the whole group, to packing enough construction tools to make a handyman proud, they could do it all. Thanks to a cooking competition that began with the first collective meal, my diet and waist-line both expanded more than one could imagine while traveling in the middle of nowhere. One of my fondest memories was gazing at the peaks of the snow-capped Queen Charlotte Mountains while noticing that the stern paddler in our team's canoe was sitting back, sipping hot tea and appreciating the sights while his wife propelled them along.

As the trip neared its end I was able to finally appreciate how the Haida people had developed their culture over some 10,000 years along these remote and hostile shores. The fantastic remains of the Haida settlements are scattered throughout the islands at regular intervals. (Surviving villages have protectors called watchmen who may grant permission to respectfully explore the remaining village sites. Dustin Edgars took us on our own personal tour of Kiutsa, the largest original native settlement in the area.) Throughout our travels we appreciated the wise territorial choices of the preceding native people. We often camped on ancient Haida territories where the beaches were protected from the incoming Pacific swells, where the headlands sheltered us from the winds and provided lookouts to scope out the next day’s paddle.

Material sources were infinite. Our own diets were supplemented with the same abundant seafood the Haida would have consumed. Even with all the hardships of the trip we were well protected and nourished by the very lands that I had feared just a few weeks before.

Kayaking around Graham Island I experienced much more than the rugged coastline, crashing surf and unpredictable winds that the West Coast of the Queen Charlottes is infamous for; I was stimulated by a landscape that hums with the perpetual spirit of life. I was honoured to experience the underlying rhythm of this stunning archipelago. Although I have been home for many months, my dreams are still filled with vivid yet indescribable sensations from these intriguing islands. The mountains and surrounding seas resonate with an unseen energy that left me looking for something that I will never be able to see or touch, but I may spend the rest of my days searching for. The essence of Haida Gwaii, or “the Land of the People,” has penetrated my soul and I ache to return to this desperately beautiful haven to search for the ancient spirits, and myself, once more.

Sheila Porteous is a certified kayak guide with the SKGABC and Level 1 sea kayak instructor with Paddle Canada. She hopes to use the skills and knowledge she has gained so far to encourage people to break through their barriers and join the paddling community. sheilap@shaw.ca