i realized with a jolt after the last post that i’ve been lying to you all this time. we actually have been along this stretch of the coast in a boat before… but it was on a ferry! nine years ago aaron and i took our van up to kitimat, then out to prince rupert to take the ferry back to port hardy. however, i maintain that we were heading south, and on a vessel like that it doesn’t really count. and really, we’ve only been in the ferry channel here and there this time around, so most of this is truly new, i swear it!
anyway, it’s been a wild stretch since bella bella, ferry channel and not.
disclaimer: this map is rather vague, but you get the picture
after untying from shearwater, we cruised over to new bella bella to check out the town. we tied up to an incredibly sketchy section of the dock that we assumed was unused (being that it was partly under water) and hung out at the pier for a while. there were a few kids fishing there off the dock, probably around ten or twelve years old. sid and sage were curious, of course, to see what they brought up - a small rock cod or two, and a few attempts to hook a wayward jellyfish caught in the tide.
i learned from one of the kids that bella bella is part of the heiltsuk nation (he pronounced it like heys-chook, but i’ve heard other people pronounce it more as it reads, like hail-tsook, and didn’t get the chance to clarify). he told me the old village site was further down by where the big ferry docks now, south of town, but pretty much everyone lives up in new bella bella. i had a thousand million more questions, but he bailed on me to go fish with his friends - which was fair!
up the pier we met a lady working in the community garden who informed us that, contrary to the sign at the dock, the town is open to visitors. our first destination was to check out the longhouse, visible from the dock with its huge mural and gorgeous totem pole out front. we were curious to scope it out more, but the boy at the dock told me there was memorial singing going on there that day, so we didn’t linger long out of respect for ceremony.
a repeat, now in context
the kids spent a hot minute on the playground at the school (a cool building shaped like an eagle, with a beak and all), then pressed us for the treats they were promised upon arrival (yes, we’ve bribed them up the coast). of all things they chose coke and pepsi - auuuuuugh - which i left them to drink outside with dad while i nipped in to the store.
it’s interesting to see how notions of western glamour fade farther from population-dense places. bella bella is a developed town, but the grocery store was very plain and utilitarian, and maybe slightly unorganized by typical fancy western standards. it was perfectly functional, of course, with friendly and helpful staff and pretty much everything you would need. i just think of, say, thrifty’s, where the building itself is nicely finished, almost like a home, all the way up to the ceiling - which is so unnecessary. i appreciated the bare bones aspect of the bella bella store. at one point i dashed back in to drop a postcard, and the mailbox for outgoing mail was just a tote on the floor of the store with a hole in the lid. it goes to show what we really need to keep things running, and how much froof we can do without.
a sketchy tie-up; looking to old bella bella; pointed from whence we came
we decided to keep going north from there, even though emotions were still high at this point. we left in the evening to anchor out on the north end of campbell island (still the same island as new bella bella), in strom cove. as we came in, i saw deer on the shore - we hadn’t seen hardly any large wildlife on shore, so as soon as we set the anchor i put the spy on them. i was confused - they weren’t deer at all, but it looked like a group of emus. my mind churned. emus? it makes no sense! even if someone had an emu farm (for some quacky reason), they wouldn’t be roaming on the beach. the kids and i piled into the tender to solve this mystery. as we got close, it was evident they were some kind of crane by the way they moved. they took off as we got closer and we could see one of them had a red cap. with that description, we learned from our bird book that they were sandhill cranes. goes to show, when you hope for a bear, you might get a crane, and not be disappointed.
we explored the far beach, finding some old engine bits and maybe some pilings. there was a clearing just behind, but it looked like something big had stomped its way through the grass recently, so we opted to stick to the beach. there was another odd root/trunk of a tree that split two ways, and i think one half was a cedar and the other a hemlock (we call them “hemdars”) - so curious. back near the tender we saw a pile of clam shells with holes poked in them - my guess was the work of an octopus, though apparently that is the handiwork of a moonsnail. i let the kids holler up and down the beach to burn off their sodas before bedtime, then herded them back aboard for the night.
leaving bella bella, exploring a beach
from strom cove we plied our way up the romantically named seaforth channel, detouring briefly to catch a very cannable (not cannibal) salmon. at the end of the channel we had to brave a few swells before slipping in to reid passage, a narrow chute between cecilia island and the mainland. apparently captain vancouver used this passage a lot to avoid exposure to the open ocean on his way up the coast. it was neat to chart waters that old explorers also used, but of course there is the inevitable sadness that comes along with what colonization brought to this coast. either way, in our present day, our drift down reid was highly pleasant, snailing along at 1.0kn. we anchored in oliver cove, and i canned the salmon while aaron and co. looked for the remains of an old settlement in the woods - nothing was found.
did i mention it was raining all this time? our afternoon in bella bella was sunny, but little did we know it would be our last for a very long, very wet four days. leaving oliver cove in a deluge, we were briefly rocked by swells before gliding through perceval narrows into mathieson channel. under the rainiest of skies, we puttered among birds and whales for a good thirteen nautical miles before swinging west into rescue bay for an even wetter night.
rain cruise; salmon; preparing fish for the canning
one perk of the rainy night was it snapped me out of my dark mood. as i said in the last post, things were feeling rather dire in terms of not only the survival of the trip but also to some degree the cohesiveness of our family; we’ve had some hard times as a team. maybe i was being dramatic, but even berating myself about feeling pouty didn’t help. yet i awoke in the night to the sound of rain pattering on the deck above us, and it suddenly made me so happy. i love being here, and i love doing this. the endless plipping of drops and the occasional ting as they struck the vent over my head somehow inspired a strength in me to move on from my gloom. even though it all rolled through my brain in a sleepy haze, it totally turned me around, and things have been pretty awesome ever since.
in the morning, under a still-drizzling sky, we weighed anchor and chugged through jackson narrows. rafiki only draws 4.5 feet, so we are able to get through some sneaky spots that a larger boat might have to wait on the tide for. jackson narrows nearly had us bottomed out though - it was shallow!!!!! even up on the bow keeping watch and knowing the water was deeper than it looked, it was a breath-holding passage. fortunately it was brief and soon opened up (kind of) into the slip of water that is jackson passage. there were so. many. waterfalls. they poured down everywhere into the sea around us; some mere trickes, some charging down with vehement force, some alone, and some in groups of three or four. even though it was still pretty drizzly, sid had his head poked out of the companionway for most of the passage and we ogled waterfalls together and enjoyed the freedom of the water - by which i mean i did donuts so we could make whirlpools with our own wake, hehe.
jackson passage dumped us out into finlayson channel, a scanty two miles wide there but seeming quite broad after the body of water we just left. the far shore was barely apparent for the fog, yet visibility was good enough to get a nice wave from a whale tail as we crossed. a sweeping waterfall off our port greeted us as we entered klemtu passage, wind-blasted hilltops looking down on us over our starboard. we puttered up the passage and soon rounded into trout bay where the village of klemtu is located.
i was down below as we entered the bay, but i popped my head up and my first sight of klemtu was the mural of the longhouse looking down over the water, illuminated by the morning light. houses hug the shore of the tight bay and a few quiet docks jut out into the water. our navigation program said that the docks were free, but there was nobody around to ask, so we tied up at the inner dock and tried to find someone. the town is quite clearly a quiet place; we didn’t see a living soul walk or drive by for the first half hour we were there. but also, it was still pouring rain, so i wasn’t surprised. there was also a huge sign plastered to the building on the dock saying that visitors were currently not welcome due to the pandemic, which threw us for a bit of a loop. we figured it was old, like the one in bella bella, but of course we didn’t want to intrude where we weren’t welcome.
it turned out that was not the case. a boat finally came in, and we asked the fellas on it about the sign. they said we were more than welcome to go ashore, and also welcome to stay at the dock but to keep an ear out for the floatplane the next morning, as that was where they came in. excited at being welcome (and a free dock, woot!), we geared up to adventure on shore. i had called the stewardship authority office to see if the museum was open, but it sadly was not. however, the lady on the phone told me of a trail we could hike up to a lake, so we opted to scope that out.
the road in klemtu is right tight to the shore, but spares a side for pedestrians. there used to be a massive boardwalk that ringed the bay, built by the community back in the day (my salty grandma remembers it from when she visited way back when), but it was eventually taken down to accomodate the buildling of the road. all that remains is a few pilings here, some mossy boards there, and an extremely weathered sign telling the tale of the boardwalk that is no longer.
a dirt road led us to the comunity’s hatchery, which we passed to go across the creek and into the woods along a well-used trail. the trail followed the rushing creek and passed under tall spruce trees, with summer greenery pushing in from all sides. we passed by a backeddy in the creek that looked like a local hangout, then turned to follow the less-used trail up the hill. it was a bit of a rocky scramble, so the kids took a break with dad while i scouted out the trail ahead.
as i came over the crest of the hill, the trail flattened out some, which seemed to promise of the lake close by. but i was distraced on instinct by a path that branched off to the left. i delved into the bushes and soon found myself on a boardwalk. abruptly, i was out of the woods and looking onto a boggy bluff, barren of large growth and with the promise of a good view. thinking that the kids may or may not make it up the hill, i dashed out along the boardwalks over the bog to take a peek, and sure enough there was a beautiful view looking back down into trout bay.
i scooted back to the main trail only to find that aaron and the kids had indeed made it up the hill and felt the same pull; they were just nearing the edge of the treeline as i came upon them. they popped out of the forest onto the bluff with wonder in their eyes at the sudden change of scene. aaron even said aloud, “what just happened? where are we??” - a befitting query.
what exactly was this ecosystem?? it looked very boggy, with super spongy moss, puddles of water, bog laurel, sundews, the lot. but it was atop and among bald rocks, exposed to an endless torrent of wind and rain. it made sense, but it also didn’t… i don’t really now how to explain it, but somehow the ecosystem as whole was very surprising.
it was also delightful, and we hiked for ages over the boardwalks and spongy trails - sometimes a little too spongy, and only occasionally muddy. most of it was moss, moss, moss, with a plethora of other tiny plants and shrubby things stuffed into it. there were also rock pools with silty bottoms all around; it felt like a terraced garden with charmingly placed rock and water features throughout, but way bigger than anyone would bother to create.
we hiked for over an hour, finally stopping for a snack break where some brave soul had carried enough lumber to make a scrappy table. we were looking right down into the bay and we could see further up klemtu passage, where we would continue in a few days. the rain had let up somewhat, so we hiked and snacked in a light drizzle. it seemed fitting to be dotted with water from above when surrounded by dots of water below... they don’t call it the wet coast for nothing.
after snacks we wandered back, marveling over the quickness of a return journey. in no time it seemed we were back to the road, and the kids still had energy to spare, so we went to take a closer look at the bighouse. we chatted with a few people in passing along the way, and found everyone to be exceptionally friendly. we also noticed all the vehicles drove really slowly, which added to the quiet ease of the place - it felt very island-y.
the bighouse was closed up, of course, but had plenty of neat art on the outside. the large mural and the doors of the longhouse had four animals: a raven, an eagle, a wolf, and what looked like a two-finned orca (disclaimer: these are my best guesses, as i thus far have not been able to confirm!). out front there was a totem pole of a human figure clutching two shields - a similar thread, that shield shape, strung up the coast that we’ve traveled so far.
klemtu is a unique place in that two separate nations were relocated to the same piece of land. the kitasoo (pronounced as it looks) and the xai’xais (pronounced like hey-heys, but say the h like ‘chh’, “as if you have a piece of popcorn stuck in your throat”) at this point are represented as a single entity, referred to as the kitasoo xai’xais nation. according to one local i spoke to, the two nations came together amicably, since there were so few people left in each group after being ravaged by smallpox. they also saw an opportunity to profit there in klemtu, as large vessels would stop in there for firewood to fuel their ships, and so worked together to become a new joint group. in present day, everyone born of the nations has mixed bloodlines.
the bighouse was our last stop for the day (except for the part where i told sid i would give him $10 if he licked a slug - and he did!) and we walked the road back to the dock for a quiet night in klemtu.
in the morning the float planes did indeed come in, since the skies were clearing up. as the first one landed, we shuffled back on the dock to make room. it was a regular pontoon-style float plane, delivering a pair of humans to klemtu. once they were all unloaded, sid got to take a peek in the plane. the pilot even let him sit up front and wiggle all the controls to see how the plane moved. it was fun to see the plane start up and putter away beside us, the pilot waving out the open door, before gearing up in the channel and taking off (the door was closed by then).
after the float plane was gone, a boat bearing the words kitasoo watchmen came in. sid, of course, wasted no time in connecting to the guy there, and i was not far behind. the fella’s name was brady, and i picked his brain about klemtu and the first nations. he is a wealth of knowledge and was an excellent person to talk to for the information i was after. he asked where we were going, and when i said khutze inlet was our next destination, he said that was where the watchmen were building a cabin, and if we came by he would take us for a bear tour! that solidified our plans on where to go next, that’s for sure.
we left them to load their boat up and loaded our own packs for the day’s adventure to the lake. we didn’t make it far from the dock before the next float plane came in. this one was a goose, meaning it had no pontoons and landed on its belly in the water! it seems a strange design to me, but i’m sure it has a purpose. however, since it is low to the water, they have to make a weird manouevre to put one wing up in the air to get it over the dock, and that meant rafiki was right in the way. aaron dashed back down to the dock as we watched a second plane land. he quickly hopped aboard rafiki and untied, then puttered over to another vacant dock just down the bay. in no time at all he was back and we were on our way.
we followed the same path as the day before, but instead of turning left to the trail on the bluff, we continued on the main trail. it soon turned from an old road to a meandering forest trail, full of roots and rocks - and water. so much water! the north coast is a soggy place. we climbed up, we climbed down, always with the open trees belying that the lake was somewhere - somewhere! - ahead. sage was a total champ, literally hopping up and down the trail, falling on every tenth step and saying “i’m okay!” almost before she hit the ground, every time. it was a big hike for a little girl, but she hiked steady the whole way.
scramble up, scramble down, repeat.
some lovely souls had pieced the trail together with chunks of wood and boards and even a rope to help with the steep parts. the final descent brought us to the lake at long last - the access being a gap in the trees with a morsel of shore in front of it. the lake was stunning, if not huge. the mountains rose steeply to either side, with the obligatory coastal mist whispering among every fold, the peaks a well-kept secret that only the sky must know. trees and plants grew right tight to the waters edge, the only exception being what appeared to be a patch of sand on the far shore.
kitasoo lake, in all it's misty glory
perhaps the same rugged souls that had built the trail had hefted a pair of canoes up to the lake, which we assumed were for the sharing. however, there was only one short paddle fashioned from plywood… but we went for it anyway. aaron found a “wide” stick, and we all piled in, staying close to the shore since we had no lifejackets. the stick worked surprisingly well; we crossed the lake in probably twenty minutes.
the far shore was indeed a beach, or rather several small beaches that would be large on a year the water was low (if that ever happens here), as the sand flats stretched way out into the lake. behind the beaches was a bit of a swamp land, which we didn’t deek too far into. instead we spread our lunch fixins out on the beach and snacked on canned salmon and crackers, trying to keep the sand out. we felt like real adventurers there, at the far end of a lake in a remote town on a vast coast at the edge of the great wilderness… and the fjord-like setting only amplified the feeling. (we later learned that the far end of the lake is a very sasquatch-y area, and a lot of locals won't even go there! sadly we didn't see so much as a bigfootprint.)
the wind soon picked up, coming towards us on the lake. like practical adventurers, we opted to cut our beach stay short in order to ensure a safe return - again being that we had only half of a paddle and a stick to make the journey back against the wind. for the sake of exploration we opted to paddle along the other side of the lake. not far from the beach we got bombed by gulls; we figured they must have a nest or something to protect, as they were doing the sam to an eagle earlier. even though we tried to steer wide of them, they persisted in diving right close to our heads, screeching in our ears as they came down.
eventually we left their protected zone and made it back down the lake in peace. just like by the ocean, the devil’s club at the lake grows right down into the water, dipping it’s lowest leaves. the density of the foliage is staggering; whatever space isn’t occupied by huge trees is crowded by shrubs, and the space below filled with moss and grasses, no matter the angle of the slope or the material beneath.
we made it back to the trail-end of the lake and tucked the canoe back as we found it, with much gratitude to whoever portaged the thing up there. sage led the way back, slipping and tripping and i’m-okay-ing her way all the way back down the hill. the promise of a treat may have helped with haste, and we arrived back in town with ample time to find the store.
well, if i thought the store in bella bella was utilitarian, it had nothing on the klemtu store. the store was conveniently right next to the dock that aaron had moved rafiki to, but it didn’t look like a store on the outside, and so i nearly passed it by but for the help of a local standing by. it was really a warehouse, plain on the outside and plain on the inside, accessed by a rolling door like a large garage. but it served it’s purpose plenty fine, regardless of the no-frills visage; there was quite a variety of food inside and honestly things weren’t a whole lot more expensive than elsewhere.
we topped up on apples and a few things and headed for the checkout. as i was loading stuff into my bag, a lady walked in the door and stopped abruptly. i looked at her, then looked back to my bag… then looked up again. “irene?” i said. “what are you doing here? how did you get here?” said irene - for it was indeed irene, the mother of a friend of mine from elementary school who i sailed with way back when! i said “i sailed here with my family!”, to which she asked where we were docked and if they could tie up there and that we would catch up soon! she whisked off to find what she needed and i stood there staring at my groceries being like… what? what are the chances? we’re in the middle of nowhere, at this place and this time, and found someone we know! this is my mother’s kind of luck!
treats in hand, we went back to rafiki, where al and irene soon came and tied up across from us. they were returning from a summer in alaska (a sigh of envy!) - the very, very salty pair had started back in april and were making their way back down to vancouver, but perhaps not planning to return home until the fall. they’ve sailed the world over many a time, and the coast as well, so of course we questioned them on where to go and what to see. we got to explore their boat, and the kids basked in the spaciousness of it. it was only six feet longer than ours, but comparitively it was huge. and they didn’t have kids aboard, so it wasn’t ajumble with stuff - another sigh of envy!
the evening was bright and lovely, and the blue holes soon opened wide across the sky. clouds persisted on the mountain tops, making for a dramatic sunset in klemtu. eagles of all ages prowled the beach by the bunch, picking away at who knows what, perched on poles and trees, lending their aura of wild to the shore around us. we said goodnight to our neighbours and tucked ourselves away in our cozy little haven, another day full of discovery - and random reconnection - behind us.
photo credit to irene! many thanks for a rare gem
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