We keep extra space in these unsteady waters. Occasionally the whales surface at a distance. Sometimes we have to choose wisely and give up on immediate gratification for a bigger outcome… we intend to catch the ferry home tonight. Let’s raft up and watch.” “No, let’s keep moving.” A little disappointed by the sensible husband, I must agree… it is best we carry on the crossing. Sure enough, humpback whales are out on the passage. Suddenly, I hear the sounds of large objects hitting the water surface through the wind.
There is something special about moving along on the water in a small vessel while being so close to the water surface, occasionally touching it. In these waves, the mind reaches a meditative state I feel one with the ocean. Thirty minutes into the crossing we find ourselves in tune with the rocking waves, the paddle controlled by us, steadily moving us closer to the destination stroke by stroke.
I am glad that we planned the crossing and have kayaked together enough to know the other’s ability, limitations and needs. The wind and waves sound loudly, and our voices don’t carry far. We stay reasonably close together to be able to see and hear the other. This sea state demands focus on the waves and limits your ability to turn around and look for one another. Winds shift and change here, so does the direction of the waves, sometimes lifting our kayaks up high, sometimes lowering us down, unable to see the other. We understand that our skills fit this sea state and that it is in the upper limits of when we paddle. In our kayaks we appreciate the skills we have learned over the past few years that help us make better judgement and deal with the dynamic conditions. We should be able to get there within two hours, though the ocean is stirred up with variable winds and confused seas. The way back to our car is a five nautical mile paddle, not too long. We make sure to leave the islet as we found it, just taking with us what we brought, and beach found garbage we can fit. Skies clear, the sun gently warms and dries the ground as we break camp and pack our gear. We have had this islet to ourselves over the past days. This place is serene, wild and beautiful even in the rain. Being located in the fog bank, the Deer Group Islands allow campfires year-round. We watch the rain drizzle over the ocean with the warmth of a small campfire that Fred built under our tarp shelter. Fred joins me for hot tea and a bowl of steaming cinnamon oatmeal with nuts and fruits. I am proud of the small accomplishment and glad to have shelter from the ongoing rain. The other side pools up, quite useful for washing dishes under the draining area when lifted slightly to roll over the edge. I watch how the rain slides off one side in a controlled stream as intended. Two more long sticks will help lift the edges. I inspect my back then first solo tarping job in action and troubleshoot it. Our green lightweight tarp is strapped over a ridge line and four corners connected with rope nicely tightened, up as high as I could reach. I had put up a shelter when we first arrived to be prepared for potential rain. We opt to head back home later today.Įquipped in rain jacket and rain hat I crawl out of our tent to prepare breakfast. The weather forecast predicts three more days of rain for this late autumn adventure. We enjoy some downtime after yesterday’s long paddle. The shiny thin layer of water on rocks, shells and trees gives their subtle natural colours life.
The air is moist, and you can smell the earth and ocean. Just odd splashes of irregular waves coming into the bay 30 feet away spark my curiosity to peak through the opening of our well-used tent. The sound of the ongoing dribble keeps us cozy in our sleeping bags, reading. A previous article told the story of humpback whale encounters that we made during the second day of a multi-day kayak camping adventure in this gorgeous area. The Deer Group Islands are in the south east corner of Barkley Sound off Bamfield, British Columbia.
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