Washington has long exerted a kind of magnetic pull on us. Whether it was from our previous home in Wisconsin, or since we moved to Arizona – we’ve both been to the state a number of times to sample the hiking/climbing smorgasbord. So when good friends Cailie and Rob moved to Enumclaw for work, it was a no-brainer that the Diapers/Depends gang would descend on their new hometown. All the usual suspects arrived in July 2014 and set out for our first objective – Mt Baker. That climb will be the subject of it’s own post at some later date.

Following that successful climb, Sharon and I had made plans to head farther north, into Canada, to spend a week sea kayak/camping. While we were both pretty comfortable in boats, neither of us had taken our kayaks beyond sheltered inland waters, so we were eager to expand our horizons a bit. Having said that, I was a bit nervous about the prospect of colder northern waters, the possibility of significant tidal currents, ocean swells – all things that would be new to us. After doing a fair amount of research, we decided that the Seychelt Inlet would be a good intro to ocean travel. So a few days after saying farewell to our climbing partners, we traded our ice axes for paddles.

Seychelt Inlet was lovely. The weather was perfect. We found a beautiful spot to camp and shared the beach with a few other travelers. It was all very nice…and ultimately…sort of boring. While Seychelt was technically “the ocean”, it was a very sheltered inlet, almost like a large lake. As we relaxed during the afternoon and evening we talked about our plans to spend several more days exploring the inlet. We both came to the conclusion no matter where we went, it would all be pretty much the same. Time for plan “B”. We decided to head back to the car in the morning, and make our way across Vancouver Island to the very remote village of Bamfield. All that was required was a ferry ride, a drive all the way across Vancouver Island, which included an 80 kilometer, four hour drive over unmarked, unpaved logging roads to get to our starting point.

Somewhat surprisingly, we reached out destination without any problem. Next morning we made our way to the visitor center, and came away with a parking pass and tons of excellent local info. The woman at the visitor center was a seasoned kayaker and freely shared her knowledge. Our plan was to head across a three mile wide channel to the Deer Group of islands. Diana Island was to be our first stop. After that, we would let our comfort level and weather determine the rest of our agenda.

After the sheltered waters of the Seychelt inlet, the more open waters out of Bamfield were a bit more intimidating. Fortunately, the line of islands that make up the Deer group offered protection from the open Pacific, so we only had to deal with minor swell and some wind chop in our trip to Diane Island. Thanks to the information we’d received, we found a fantastic camp site and made ourselves at home. Then came the “adventure” (cue foreboding music)! It was still early in the day and Sharon decided she wanted to paddle completely around the island. Normally I would up for that kind of adventure. However, since the west side of the island was exposed to Pacific swells that may not have seen land since passing Japan, a “spirited” discussion ensued on the wisdom of such a trip. Eventually we did set out and very quickly met the aforementioned burly Pacific swells. As we went farther, the swells were topped with some sporty wind chop as well. With her slightly more stable kayak, Sharon had not a care in the world. My empty kayak was larger and was sitting a bit higher in the water. We hadn’t had enough time to get properly acquainted so it felt quite unstable to me. Additionally, I was pondering the fatal consequences of a swim in the 50 degree water off a rugged, rocky shore getting hammered by those burly waves. I can’t recall ever being quite so intensely focused – or as terrified. It was what I like to call a real “sphincter tightener” moment. It came as a huge relief (to me) when we finally rounded the corner back into the lee of the island and I was able to unclench my butt. As we completed the loop, we had an excellent – and timely – conversation about not scaring the crap out of Dave, and about different perceptions and tolerance of risk.

After our night on Diane Island, we headed north and spent two more nights and three days exploring the islands and islets in this little corner of Barkley Sound. Nothing quite as dramatic as the trip around Diane, but absolutely fascinating. We wove around small rock outcroppings, paddled through a sea arch, observed masses of starfish clustered in the intertidal zone on rock faces, passed into and out of impenetrable walls of fog and paddled under blue bird skies. Generally we just had a great adventure exploring the area.

Our last night was spent on a lovely little beach on Ross Islet. At low tide, a bit of dry ground emerged that allowed us to walk across to another islet to meet our neighbors. We spent some pleasant time visiting with Katya and Andrew from Seattle. From our conversation it was clear they were experienced paddlers. We exchanged contact information and only later did we find out that among his many, many talents Andrew has built a number of strip built and skin on frame kayaks. Katya is a professional photographer and videographer. Many of her images and videos are amazing. As so often happens on our trips, we enjoy and seek solitude, yet many of the memorable moments involve the fascinating people we meet.

We passed a pleasant evening on our tiny island. Somehow we managed to leave our poles on shore after a lunch stop earlier in the day, so we had to seriously McGyver our tent in order to have some shelter. After that small chore and dinner were taken care of, I recall spending a fair amount of time just staring out across the water – at the small mountains on the mainland – at the other islands – at the clouds and fog that appeared, then disappeared – at the animal life that made an appearance from time to time. The entire experience was just so – pleasant and satisfying. As always happens, we talked of plans and ideas for other similar trips – here and elsewhere. Although as Frost noted, “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.” As wonderful as this area was, the western coast of Canada is so rich with opportunities for kayak trips, in reality I doubt if we would ever come back. After an uneventful crossing the following morning, this trip joined so many others – going from adventure to memory. But what a fine memory to have.