One of the most exciting mornings of my travel experience was the day I hopped into a rental car with my parents to head to Vancouver Island to kayak with orcas in Canada’s Johnstone Strait.
There is never a dull moment driving through British Columbia towards Horseshoe Bay to catch the ferry across to Vancouver Island as you are entertained by the constant flow of changing vistas and you can’t help but gush “wow” after every turn in the road.
Once on board the ferry to Nanaimo, all the passengers strained their necks and had their cameras poised ready for that Kodak moment if Canada’s famous wildlife – the orca – decided to make an appearance. Sadly all were disappointed but I had a secret glee as soon I would be out in the strait kayaking, probably with a whole pod of orca.
With a long drive ahead to Telegraph Cove in the north of the Island, we pushed on as many others from our ferry headed south to Victoria, the capital of BC. The further north we headed, the more we were absorbed into the Canadian wilderness, only stopping in the small town of Wuss to fill up on gas. Wuss sits in a clearing surrounded by a dense forest of pines. There are only a few cottages, caravans and a gas station also comprising a shop and café, but Wuss holds a special place in my heart. The locals were all friendly and welcoming and I experienced the greatest most mouth-watering grilled chicken breast burger I have ever tasted and it still holds this title.
Many twists and turns and thousands of acres of forest later we rounded our last bend into Telegraph Cove with a “Wowww” in unison as if we were the Von Trapp family. Telegraph Cove is an idyllic village with a very small local population. Many residents are temporary, just there for the summer season or for the logging companies found throughout this part of the island. Most tourists visiting the Johnstone Strait to experience orca, drive no further north than Comox which is a larger town, boasting more accommodation, dining and tour choice. For us, Telegraph Cove was perfect: cabins perched on the pier, filling the left side of the harbour and the locals having reign on the opposite side.
After checking in and receiving a verbal map, we headed to the whale museum. The whale museum resembled a small boat house/shack at the edge of the harbour bordering the vast Johnstone Strait. The building was dimly lit, but we were welcomed by the curator who filled us in on all there is to know about orca and the other whales that move through these parts.
We all have seen the footage of orca on nature documentaries throwing their meal (seals) up in the air and hitting them with their tails as if they’re playing a game of tennis. This was a fear that I had buried deep down. It fuelled my excitement and adrenaline but it also threatened to nail me to the dock and not allow me to brave the waters beyond the harbour. To our relief, the curator taught us about the three different types of orca: residents, offshore and transients and how only the transients play with their food. In the Johnston Strait we would be encounter the resident orca pods which were peaceful and had not taken up the game of playing with their food. Phew!
The next morning we packed our small dry bags with toiletries and a change of clothes with unbridled excitement, then set off to North Island Kayak to begin our adventure (http://kayakbc.ca/). This is where we met Brad – our amazing guide who comes to Telegraph Cove every summer to take kayak tour groups out to meet the local orca populations. After teaching us the basics and packing our hulls with all the equipment and food we would need over the next few days, we were off with Brad and our two new companions, a lovely American couple from Philadelphia.
Kayaking down the Johnstone Strait is an amazing experience in itself, with its awe-inspiring scenery of tall pines growing on steep craggy cliff faces with bald eagles perched on top. After a leisurely day of kayaking and stopping off at various beaches for a picnic we arrived at our isolated campsite, exhausted and sore. This is when Brad triggered our fear and adrenaline again “You don’t need to worry about orca but there was a black bear here a couple of days ago so let’s keep any food or scented toiletries in our kayaks to be safe.” No one had told us about bears when we enlisted to camp in thin unprotected tents. After a delicious meal of freshly caught fish grilled to perfection, we all headed for some rest with tension pumping through our veins.
When camping in the middle of nowhere with the imminent threat of a bear attack, the worst thing that could happen is needing to go to the bathroom which was about a 1km hike through the forest. Creeping out of my tent, I surveyed the safety of my surrounds with dim torchlight, then I was off at high speed down the trail, hoping speed would protect me from becoming a midnight snack. As always with the dark and possessing a vivid imagination, every boulder or fallen log suddenly became a bear! After repeating the same mad dash through the forest back to the safety of my tent unscathed, I thought how ridiculous I must have looked. But I was alive and well and with an empty bladder. The next morning at breakfast I realised the biggest threat, which I had not considered, was mosquitoes and I had some lovely big itchy lumps on my backside. But a day of kayaking ahead and many orca to see, the bites seemed like a distant memory and I kept my many “bear” sightings to myself.
By late afternoon of day two we were on the opposite side of the strait and still nil orca sightings. Being distracted by sea otters we had not noticed the storm clouds rolling in and the strait becoming rougher and rougher. With Brad, our always relaxed and happy guide, looking concerned, we began a hard fight back across the strait to our campsite. Not only did we have to contend with what seemed like raging seas but cruise ships seemed to be coming from all angles. The words of a story by the curator of the whale museum rang through my mind. He told of a 40 m sperm whale that was hit by a cruise ship and taken miles away and died before they realised it was stuck to the stern of the ship. I did not want to be that whale and fought on with rain beginning to come down. After almost tipping several times and what felt like a lifetime battle to survive, we made it to shore and I felt like participating on the cliché kissing of land as I felt solid ground under my feet. Exhausted and well fed with a delicious meal again, we stumbled to bed. Tonight we were too exhausted to worry about any bear, black, brown or plush.
Waking to the natural break of dawn it was a sad day. It was our final day of the trip and we were all haunted by the thought that we were not going to see an orca first hand. We packed up camp, filled our now lightened kayaks and began a casual kayak against the current slowly back towards Telegraph Cove. Kayaking back allows you to reflect on everything you have experienced. I spent the morning taking in the scenery, watching fishermen bring in their nets and reflected on the amazing experiences we had had the past few days even if they did not involve any interaction with orca. We’d seen the beaches they breached, gone for hikes to waterfalls, seen sea otters feeding and relaxing and had near non-existent encounters with bears. Relaxing on the shore of another gorgeous Johnstone Strait beach, with our guide sound asleep, the tranquillity was broken: “THERE! OUT THERE! ORCA!” Sprinting to our kayaks, we were in and paddling out before Brad could process what had happened.
We paddled with such new-found energy and strength, we could have been mistaken for an Olympic team. We formed a raft down route from the orca and watched in awe – totallyl overwhelmed to be in the presence and so close to these amazing creatures, coming towards our raft, closer and closer. Their breath was rhythmic, filling the surrounds with a large gasp every time they surfaced. Closer and closer still until about 2 m from our kayaks they went under. Adrenaline and pure fear pulsed through our bodies as they did not resurface. We waited, ready to be capsized and to learn that these were transient orca that play with their food not the resident pods we were told we’d encounter. Then, finally that gasp for air was heard behind us as the pod resurfaced and continued down the strait, almost as if they were playing with our fear on purpose. Sitting motionless, we drifted and looked on as many other tourists arrived in boats to take their photos and see the stunning creatures made famous by Free Willy.
In silence we turned and kayaked back to Telegraph Cove. All knowing we were truly lucky to have experienced what we had that afternoon. A moment that will never be lost.