The Rugged Peace of Vancouver Island

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Abstract

hours were spent on these wilderness back trails with roaming bears, cougars and elk, acres of forest dotted with clear cuts. “What’s that” we both exclaimed at the same time. “Is that a person… hitchhiking.. out here, where, he might, get eaten by a bear?” The little ditty mumbled from my lips.We rolled to a stop, not because we had room in the tiny cab of the pickup truck, but to make sure he was aware of where he was. Hallucinogenic mushrooms grow wild in this part of the country. “Alright man?” I asked, hoping he would say yes and we could carry on. “Oh yeah dude, just making my way to the trail head.” I had to ask, “you know there are bears out here?” “Dude…no way!!” He exclaimed with the stunned expression seen on many ignorant suburban hippy kids that make their way to the island.There is an old saying, God looks out for children and fools. Perhaps that is why we passed at that time. We were scared for the kid, so we offered him the single empty square foot of space on top of the camping gear in the back of the small truck, the flying gravel, twigs and sand discouraged his interest in the ride quickly, and after explaining some bear safety to him we continued our journey without him.Just to put your mind at ease, we did check the newspaper for a couple of days, no reports of a missing hiker, or a bear buffet reported.The brief stop in this vast wild area reminded me of a peculiar feature, or lack of, found in the west coast island rain forests. Very few small creatures. No chattering of chipmunks, bugling of birds, virtually no undergrowth for them to live in with a massive conifer canopy overhead.These regular trips provided a mixture of delight, fear, joy, and eventually, over the years, sea sickness. The bane of sailors, per

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haps my career may be cut short.The coves along the coast of the island are fantastically beautiful and more often than not, thanks to the giant’s skills and knowledge, were filled with salmon. This one is not for you seal, thwang goes the slingshot. Sharing is caring!It was not that he put the fish there, he just knew when and where they would be. He would never take more than the white man’s limit allowed by law, he figured he lived in the white man’s society, he played by their rules. It did not matter how I pleaded with him in the early trips.While I never did really care for the taste of salmon; snapper, halibut, and cod were also abundant, and I liked to have a few extra in the freezer.<figure id="d169"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*zjd_enhr_wI1-bD3"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@toddcravens?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Todd Cravens</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure>I was always amazed at the incredible beauty of our surroundings on these trips. Humpback whales within meters as they scraped the barnacles from their bellies on the shallow bottom near shore, momma bear and cubs on the beach, birds of every description.Did you know there is a sea bird that can dive at least 60’ through water, or at least there was. I thought I had caught the biggest fish of my life that day.I never did earn the title Tyee, probably for the best, I am told large salmon contain too many toxins and are not safe for eating. I never catch and release, always eat my catch, poor fish suffering and dying half the time when released, quite barbaric from some perspectives.</article></body>

Know your place in the wilderness

“As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.” ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, the Whale

I found myself in hard times when I met the gentle giant, he had bear paws for hands that were dexterous enough to tie a hook on a line. He tried retiring but it wasn’t in his nature, so into his seventies he continued to work, and fish.

Oh boy! Here was a real fisherman, small boat, big ocean, how do I get an invite? Remember the young lad whose dad died and the RCMP took everything? Fast forward a few decades and meet Dick. Dick didn’t care for people much, I get that. He did enjoy fishing though, and in that time and place the best fishing was remote, usually a two or three day trip to make it worthwhile.

His wife didn’t think he should be going alone any longer, I was the least horrible person he knew at the time, so I got invited. I had never been on the ocean in a small boat before. A seventeen foot boat doesn’t give much protection on open ocean. Ahhh.. the thrill of a new experience.

Of course a small boat also meant towing it in and out of remote locations along gravel and sand roads used primarily for logging. Not Clayoquot Sound though, one last stand, a forgotten fight, an ancient forest.

Many hours were spent on these wilderness back trails with roaming bears, cougars and elk, acres of forest dotted with clear cuts. “What’s that” we both exclaimed at the same time. “Is that a person… hitchhiking.. out here, where, he might, get eaten by a bear?” The little ditty mumbled from my lips.

We rolled to a stop, not because we had room in the tiny cab of the pickup truck, but to make sure he was aware of where he was. Hallucinogenic mushrooms grow wild in this part of the country. “Alright man?” I asked, hoping he would say yes and we could carry on. “Oh yeah dude, just making my way to the trail head.” I had to ask, “you know there are bears out here?” “Dude…no way!!” He exclaimed with the stunned expression seen on many ignorant suburban hippy kids that make their way to the island.

There is an old saying, God looks out for children and fools. Perhaps that is why we passed at that time. We were scared for the kid, so we offered him the single empty square foot of space on top of the camping gear in the back of the small truck, the flying gravel, twigs and sand discouraged his interest in the ride quickly, and after explaining some bear safety to him we continued our journey without him.

Just to put your mind at ease, we did check the newspaper for a couple of days, no reports of a missing hiker, or a bear buffet reported.

The brief stop in this vast wild area reminded me of a peculiar feature, or lack of, found in the west coast island rain forests. Very few small creatures. No chattering of chipmunks, bugling of birds, virtually no undergrowth for them to live in with a massive conifer canopy overhead.

These regular trips provided a mixture of delight, fear, joy, and eventually, over the years, sea sickness. The bane of sailors, perhaps my career may be cut short.

The coves along the coast of the island are fantastically beautiful and more often than not, thanks to the giant’s skills and knowledge, were filled with salmon. This one is not for you seal, thwang goes the slingshot. Sharing is caring!

It was not that he put the fish there, he just knew when and where they would be. He would never take more than the white man’s limit allowed by law, he figured he lived in the white man’s society, he played by their rules. It did not matter how I pleaded with him in the early trips.

While I never did really care for the taste of salmon; snapper, halibut, and cod were also abundant, and I liked to have a few extra in the freezer.

I was always amazed at the incredible beauty of our surroundings on these trips. Humpback whales within meters as they scraped the barnacles from their bellies on the shallow bottom near shore, momma bear and cubs on the beach, birds of every description.

Did you know there is a sea bird that can dive at least 60’ through water, or at least there was. I thought I had caught the biggest fish of my life that day.

I never did earn the title Tyee, probably for the best, I am told large salmon contain too many toxins and are not safe for eating. I never catch and release, always eat my catch, poor fish suffering and dying half the time when released, quite barbaric from some perspectives.