Beer, bears and whale farts...muesli
secrets, the organic grinds and the ewok village of
Nootka Island...The hidden coast of Vancouver
Island BC, still hides the northwest
passage...Totems, lumberjacks and women's clothing
all await the secret coming out of the closet! "Oh,
I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK, I sleep all night and I
work all day!"
Sam cuttin' out Photo: Alex Jowett
I'd have to say that beer is probably the single
greatest contributor to the promotion of a strong
Canadian identity. For years Canadians were seen, and
even saw themselves as moderate socialists who really
didn't have much of an identity on the world stage.
All this was made even worse when Monty Python's
lumberjack skit promoted the idea that Canadians were
a bunch of lumberjacks who, underneath the plaid
jackets, dressed up in women's clothing. Well, beer,
and especially beer commercials came along to change
all that. Finally Canadians were given an
identityÉbeer drinking, fun loving, outdoorsy
types who liked to play along with the American
ignorance of their northern neighbors. Who were we
to care that Americans would drive over the border
with ski racks on their roofs...in JULY! Who were
we to care if some of them didn't even come because
they didn't think sleeping in an igloo would be
comfortable enough for them...in JULY! Well, we
finally decided to let the world in on a few little
secrets. But not too many because we don't think the
rest of the world can handle the truth!
Before I left Maui I was trying to round up a
non-Canadian windsurfer to join Sam Ireland, Brad
Drummond and myself on a windsurf and surf trip to the
west coast of Vancouver Island. We figured we needed
a witness. The excuses started flying almost
immediately; "Oh, I'm moving houses that week," or
"Hmmnn, I'd like to come but I don't have any money,"
to the blatant "Canada...there's waves there?" Oh
yes there are! So finally Sam Ireland called up Jesse
Brown and didn't even give him a chance to say no. As
Jesse described it, "I got a call from Sam the night
before I needed to be in Vancouver. I wasn't exactly
sure what I was getting into (a sailing/surfing trip
to BC?). Who would have thought? Sam said, " Trust me,
it'll be sick." The next day I was in some bar in
northern Vancouver island with a bunch of Canucks
watching some hockey and kicking back a few Molson
Canadians." Lucky boy that Jesse is.
Jesse rippin' it up Photo: Alex Jowett
The plan was for us to head out to a secret
spot that shall remain a secret (most names have been
fiddled with to keep the spots somewhat of a secret,)
meet up with our guide, Clay Hunting of Tatchu
Adventures, and head out to Nootka Island. I had a
bit of an idea of what to expect, but really didn't
know what we'd get. *(Please read the following as
fast as you can!) After driving through Vancouver BC
we escaped the traffic, hopped on a ferry to Vancouver
Island, drove a few hours to the west coast of Vancouver
Island along gorgeously tree-lined roads with
snow-capped mountain vistas all along the route, then
loaded our gear into an ocean rescue skiff where we
were told we had to put on some bright orange
neoprene-lined artic survival suits...Sweet!
We bundled up, cruised the waterway to Nootka as small
porpoises popped up intermittently to check us out.
Then, we unloaded our gear into a massive pickup and
drove for another forty minutes until we reached an
incredibly remote part of Vancouver Island. "Holy
Sh&$#!" I thought to myself. "We've reached the ewok
village!" The tree forts, rivers, surrounding rain
forest, and whale and wave rich ocean out front were
causing a sensory overload in my brain. Deep breath!
*(Ok, now back to a normal pace!)
Our guide Clay
showed us to our tree fort, where we would be staying
for the next week. Before we'd even had a chance to
explore we were all scratching to get out our wetsuits
and boards. The waves were going off at the point (it
was a constant view of ours throughout the week, as it
could be seen perfectly from our tree fort!) Within
minutes we had unpacked our gear and were grabbing
our boards to go catch some killer waves. What
looked like a mellow medium sized right-hander turned
out to be a solid 10-foot wave throwing from top to
bottom. Even if nothing else had happened all trip,
it all would have been worthwhile just to surf this one
wave! But we got the bonus plan.
Brad at the tree house Photo: Alex Jowett
After a killer surf session we were all a little
wiped and more than a little hungry, so Clay decided
we ought to have a little oyster-fest on the beach.
He stoked the fire, grabbed some lime and hot sauce
and barbee'd up some killer oysters, fresh from the
sea that day. Sam couldn't understand why they tasted
so much better than oysters he'd had in the past.
When he asked Clay, he just smiled and responded
"they're dypthoids, no gonads, no extra nasty stuff,
just good clean meat!" We weren't 100% sure what he
meant, but we chose not to delve too deeply into it!
As we sat around drinking beers and sucking on oysters
a few whales swung by to say hello. I couldn't
believe how close to the shore they came. Clay
laughed and said that one had surfaced about ten feet
behind me when I was coming in from my surf session.
The closest I'd even been to a whale and I didn't even
notice! This little story started a slough of surf
stories from our roving crew of travellers and Clay, a
world traveller in his own right. It's funny though,
how surf stories in the Pacific Northwest vary so
much from those of the tropics. We all started
laughing hysterically when Clay recalled the time he
had been out surfing and thought an oil slick had
crept into their line-up. Apparently not. A passing
whale had decided to relieve itself near Clay, leaving
the surfers covered in a slick, oily mess of whale poo
that didn't wash off their wetsuits for days. We
began to wonder whether we really wanted to surf so
close to the whales after that. However, after a
couple of days of surfing and exploring the surrounding
forests we were ready for a sail. The marine forecast
had been teasing us since we arrived and we were now
ready to hit it!
After a rainy day reading and surfing we woke
up around 10 (or maybe later,) to a steadily growing
breeze. Perfect sideshore wind and a nice head-logo
size swell got us all in a flurry of rigging and
prepping gear. While the waves themselves aren't set-up
supremely for jumping (other spots we checked out
would be, however) it couldn't have been better for
full-on surf sailing. Sam, Jesse and Brad all cruised
out and began to rip the waves with aplomb. That is
to say, they dropped the bomb! For hours the three of
them practiced carving, snapping, smacking, whacking,
cracking, slipping, whipping, hitting, flicking and
generally...ripping, until they could rip no more!
Ok so the wind died, what can you expect after 6 in
the evening anyway! The day was done and a killer
session was had by all. We had even converted Clay
into thinking that windsurfing looked cooler and more
exciting than surfing.
The next morning we had Sylvie's, our Austrian
cook, special secret breakfast muesli. A massive
ten pound bowl of it was wiped clean in minutes by our
hungry horde. When I began to try and get the recipe
off of her, and even offer to help her prepare it next
time a quick laugh and polite "No chance!" were all I
got! I was beginning to get a little tired at all the
secrets we were not allowed to let out on Nootka!
Jowett is a professional writer and photographer and has had numerous articles and photographs published in a variety of kiteboarding and windsurfing
magazines. Check out his website at www.wickedsun.com.
