We have crossed the border and arrived in Prince Rupert, BC for a shower and chance to resupply our provisions. It is a bit of a shock being in an urban environment after 12 days camping in the quiet of the Alaskan coast. This is the biggest city center we have visited on the trip, and certainly the most industrial. Prince Rupert is the western terminus of the railway and the highway for all of northern BC, so the port is quite active. The big container ships are getting piled high by the massive overhead cranes that hover above them. Further up the shore the giant grain silos sit, ready to deposit their bounty into vessels headed south to other Canadian ports, or west to Asia. Coming in by kayak is an interesting exercise in watching all the boat traffic, judging if any of the big ones look like they are getting ready to move, and then making a dash for it when it seems clear enough.
On the evening we crossed into Canada our day was unexpectedly extended. After paddling our longest day yet we landed at what looked like a perfect beach to camp at and Robin went up to investigate. While looking for a spot to pitch the tent she found some old bear scat… and then some tracks… and then some much fresher droppings… more tracks. Well, we shoved off to check out the next beach. More of the same. And the next beach. And the one after that. We ended up paddling more than an extra hour before finding a beach that didn’t have bear sign. It was a good reminder that our plans always have to be flexible to account for the hazards on the sea as well as the land.
The last two weeks were an opportunity for us to settle into the groove of this long journey. We are paddling about 20 nautical miles as a standard day. Some days we are met by headwinds or unfavorable current and we go a bit shorter. Some days we are moving along nicely and we go longer. The exact distance each day doesn’t matter as much as making forward progress. Day by day we are getting closer to home.
Low tide launch: sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do…
That big picture view drives a lot of our decisions. Several times we have considered taking a side-trip up an inlet to see tidewater glaciers, or out to some interesting off-shore islands. After pondering a bit we realize that the smart choice is to continue on the route towards Washington. Making that choice has not felt like missing out on something. Instead, it feels like reaffirming our commitment to seeing the expedition through. It seems like we are on-track so far, though it is certainly not a foregone conclusion.
We are about one third through our total mileage. The next stretch through the central British Columbia coast will be somewhat similar to the inner channels in southeast Alaska, the islands providing protection from the ocean. But we will also have opportunities to head to the outside of islands and start feeling the full effect of the Pacific. We want to get out there in bigger swell, have some surf landings, and try to find water sources and campsites on the open coast as a warmup for what is coming in the last month of this journey. We are still planning on heading to the outside of Vancouver Island for the final leg back to Orcas. That part of the coast in fully exposed for hundreds of miles; it is not a place to head to unprepared.
One of my favorite parts of traveling with Robin on this trip has been having a second set of eyes to find what is around us. She will notice an eagle or seal I had not seen, or point out an interesting rock formation tucked back in a cove. There is a great joy in having someone reveal a secret that was right in front of you, opening your eyes to a bit of beauty or wonder that you had overlooked while looking to the next point.
When we used to work at the Outward Bound schools, leading multi-week trips for youth and adults, we would use the expedition as a metaphor for life. It can be a great tool to highlight team dynamics and teach goal-setting, leadership, and communication lessons. The truth is that an expedition isn’t a metaphor for life, it just IS life. It is life stripped down to its basic elements without the distractions. Some days you have to put in a lot of effort to move forward, pushing though discomfort to get where you want to be. Some days it is best to sit and rest when the wind is in your face. Some days are pleasant and joyful. Some days you just want to quit and go home. Every day feels better if you share the beauty and the hard parts with someone. I find it easier to notice these things out here and appreciate them. That is why I’m drawn to these kinds of journeys. It is also why I am glad we have so many more miles to go.
Looking way ahead… 40+ mile visibility.
Sea lions relaxing in the sun.
New life springing from the old.
Mink digging for clams below the tide line.
Eagle surveying the kelp beds.
Purse seining boat pulling up their catch of salmon.
