Picturesque coastlines, rich heritage and bountiful wildlife are just some of the Gulf Islands National Park Reserve’s attractions.
Isle De Lis grows larger and soon I'm like Crusoe, alone, an entire island to myself.
A four-day voyage of discovery is laid out before me. The goal is to explore the Gulf Islands by kayak, navigating a territory known as the "Salish Sea," and build a bond with its unique seascape, creatures and history.
I start my journey with my back resting against a sun-warmed boulder on Warburton Pike, the highest point on Saturna Island. Spread before me like a feast is one of the world's most beautiful archipelagos.
I hike to my kayak and paddle south along Saturna, an island lost in time with a population of only 300 souls. Sandstone cliffs sculpted into a lacework of beige and yellow whorls line the shore. Dozens of seals hauled out on a small rocky islet watch me with sad liquid eyes. Cormorants stretch their black wings like preachers blessing their flock.
Photos by Hans Tammemagi
I'm connecting with nature and, as a bonus, my carbon footprint is nil.
To protect this stunning region, the Gulf Islands National Park Reserve – a protected group of 16 islands and over 65 islets – was created in 2003. Earlier, I spoke with Ron Hamilton, a retired park superintendent who enthused, "For such a small area the diversity is incredible – it has sandy and rocky beaches, arbutus and Garry oak trees."
The region's unique, fragile ecosystem is formed by Canada's only Mediterranean climate, and is home to many endangered and threatened species, including Taylor's checkerspot butterfly and the sharp-tailed snake.
I paddle to Roesland on Pender Island, a former resort site for over 70 years, and linger in the museum. Red-barked, gangling arbutus trees border a path along the narrow islet. I wind down the day gazing at sailboats fluttering on the Salish Sea.
Returning to my kayak I start the long crossing of Swanson Channel. A snort sounds and a smooth seal's head pops out of the water, the curious companion monitoring my progress.
Isle De Lis grows larger and soon I'm like Crusoe, alone, an entire island to myself. I feel isolated without my cellphone. I pitch a tent and go exploring. Facing the U.S. San Juan Islands, I enjoy views of giant freighters steaming through Haro Strait. At day's close, fading light shimmers on the water as four seals frolic in the darkening bay.
Photo by Hans Tammemagi
In the morning, a gentle breeze caresses my back as I paddle lazily to Portland Island. I'm greeted by a dazzling white beach formed by broken clam shells, the remains of millennia of habitation by Coast Salish First Nations.
A trail leads around the island, passing coves lined with bleached driftwood logs and meadows dotted with purple wildflowers. An old apple orchard is a reminder that Portland was settled in the 1880s by Kanaka (Hawaiian) immigrants.
The next morning, I paddle to history-drenched Mayne Island. At the Springwater Lodge, the oldest continuously operating pub in B.C., I sip an ale. Long ago, men stopped here as they rowed from Victoria to the mainland in pursuit of gold. Today, gleaming white superferries chug through Active Pass, their whistles sounding deep throaty warnings.
I paddle to Beaumont on Pender Island. A steep path leads to the summit of sun-drenched Mount Norman where I gaze at the sea. I'm drawn by Sidney Island and its unusual hook-shaped spit and D'Arcy Island with its sad history as a leper colony.
My four-day kayak tour has left me happy, even euphoric, but also knowing there is so much more left to discover in these remarkable waters.
Hans Tammemagi is a Travel Media Association of Canada award winner, author, eco-tourism consultant and environmental scientist.
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