Desolation Sound Canada British Columbia Tours

WEB RESOURCES

OTHER STORIES BY FRANKIE D

1 | 2

DESOLATION WILDERNESS ADVENTURES
I was dumped from the lap of luxury at 5:20am when my wake-up call sheared my dreams of grizzly bears and mountains. I scrambled from my fine bedding, showered with L'Occitane amenities and toweled off with super-soft Egyptian cotton. In the lobby at 5:45am, I met Greg Dickie proprietor of Desolation Wilderness Adventures. Goodbye to my present experience of finely tuned creature comforts.

Greg explained that we would be experiencing his most popular tour: a boat ride up the 50-mile long Bute Inlet to Camp Homathko at the base of the Homathko icefield. Bute Inlet is a deep fjord, located at the northern end of the Strait of Georgia. Surrounded by the enormous mountains of mainland British Columbia's west coast, the remote wilderness fjord offers incredible scenery and wildlife. Unless you like long boat rides, opt for the easy route; fly out of Vancouver and onto the camp's private airfield. Bute Inlet is 75 km (47 miles) long, with an average width of 3.7 km (2.3 miles) and a maximum depth of 650 meters (2,130 feet). Near the end of the inlet are steep granite bluffs and misty cascading waterfalls. We are promised grizzly and black bears, a dirt road tour once traversed only by loggers and First Nation peoples, and a hike around the base of the mountains surrounding Canada's third largest mountain Mount Waddington. Mount Waddington, at 13,260 feet, is the tallest in the Coast Range and the highest mountain entirely within British Columbia. The mountain is named after the English educational pioneer, Alfred Penderell Waddington (1801-1872). Waddington is a gorgeous ice-capped stone shrouded in cloud, overlooking the gigantic fjords. Everest practitioners prize it as a testing and training ground. We will swim in melted ice water and walk under the cathedrals of 800-year-old cedar and hemlock trees. Desolation Canada Tours, Tel: 1-877-551-BOAT (2628).

The area is the former home of the Homalco Band of the Coast Salish people, who lived for thousands of years in several large villages on Bute Inlet and on Stuart Island at the mouth of the inlet. Now, the First Nation people seem to visit rather than stay in the wilderness areas.

After picking up three more journalists, we made our way through a wet day to a number of ferries that would route us closer to the mouth of the Bute Inlet. We began at Horseshoe Bay and boarded a ferry to Seashell Peninsula. The B.C. ferry system is one of the largest and most elaborate in the world. With 36 ferries and 47 ports of call, it transports passengers on clean boats through some of the most amazing scenery on earth. It's also reasonable at $48 per car and $10 per passenger for this leg of our trip. Once off the ferry, we drove the Sunshine Coast highway (Hwy 101) to another ferry, and ended up at Lund, where we boarded Greg's boats to enter the roadless wilderness of Desolation Sound.

Moving efficiently through looming mountains, drizzle and clouds, we traveled north, weaving along the trail on super-clean ferries and good roads and finally to a marina where we loaded onto two 24" cabin cruiser boats for travel to the up-river destination at the end of the fjord: Greg's land. Twenty-six acres of private land near the end of the inlet, which border the rivers and provides some of the most spectacular fishing. The Homathko and Southgate rivers provide world-class fishing for all five species of salmon, steelhead, large cutthroat and Dolly Varden. Enormous numbers of salmon migrating south down the east coast of Vancouver Island enter Bute Inlet, creating world-class fishing, both saltwater and freshwater. Our captain, Sevren Jensen, a tall, strong, gentle Norwegian-born former lumberjack (or timber man -- I call him lumberjack) helped with the bags, the sandwiches and ultimately did all the driving and navigation himself.

Camp Homathko is as rugged as the former loggers who worked the cedar, hemlock and pine woods surrounding the river basin and the Waddington Glacier area. Now, it's family-run by Chuck, his wife Sharon and his son Wayne. Three or four base camp-looking buildings perched out of the river's reach, form a comfortable village completely out of place amidst the forest and the river. We pulled up to the dock and found five lumberjacks standing around like a welcome party.

"Glad you guys are here! Got any food? We couldn't get out because the plane couldn't land in the weather and we only have one bag of chips."

Genuine wilderness survivors I thought and reached for my camera.

"That's my roommate," Greg says. "And his buddy and his son and ... they are lawyers and professors."

I put my camera away. That explained it.

"What were you going to eat if we didn't show up?" I asked before I even knew their names.

"Well, we could have asked Wayne at Camp Homathko but I figured we would be out by now." They were staying at Greg's camp, just up the dirt road.

I grabbed my bags and started up the path.

"Don't go to the left! We just saw a grizzly and her cubs walk right through there."

No wonder they were lined up on the dock. Grizzlies mean business this time of year. This is the time when they go through a sort of eating frenzy, trying to get fat before winter's hibernation. Don't get between them and a root or a berry or the cubs or just about anything else that they might think you're after. To them, this time of year is no stroll. They either gain 60% of their weight or die in hibernation in their cave. Best to stay the heck out of their way.

"And don't go down that road, either!" Bob said, pointing to the right.

"There's a big cougar. We just saw him. He must be sick. He didn't even move when we first saw him. Just standing in the road. Here's some video. But let's go and get some food first!" Our food, I supposed.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't mind sharing. I just didn't want to become food for a sick cougar or an angry Mama Grizz. Five survivors with no food and Wayne protecting the food reserves in Camp Homathko ... maybe it was time to strategize another plan.

Ever notice how hungry you get when you are on vacation? Or away from home? Maybe it's because you don't have a fridge near you. It's SURVIVAL, BABY! YOU WANT TO LIVE and you don't know when you're going to eat again! My survival instincts kicked in. I suddenly understood why dogs follow us to the refrigerator. Because that's how they get fed. By someone else. They have lost all their abilities to survive on their own. Just like me. While others stored their luggage in their respective rooms in one of the 10-room bunk houses (formerly quarters for loggers who selectively cut the giant cedars and pines from the encroaching forest), I followed Wayne into the mess hall, lined with commercial refrigerators and stoves surrounding long picnic tables. There was an abundance of food on all shelves.

Not to worry Greg assured me. "We've got so much food here. Go ahead and eat whatever you want," he urged. Fresh berries, boxes of fruit, homemade cookies, piles of frozen steaks and on and on ... Homathko could have sufficed as a Katrina refuge. Plenty for everyone.

I found my room in the dorm. Very clean, painted stark white, complete with a nice bed, stacks of wool blankets a window that opened to a view of the mountains that you can't get unless you know Greg Dickie. You can pitch a tent, but not here. You need to be in the know. Luckily, thanks to JohnnyJet.com, you are in the know.

Electricity is created here via a small private hydroelectric generator installed by the timber company to power the camp. It makes enough to power the entire camp and heat the huge in-ground hot tub. Water is diverted from glacier springs and wireless Internet satellite access keeps you online and connected to a world that seems so far away from here. The meals are prepared family-style and that's pretty good for wilderness accommodations.

Once settled in, Greg tours us around as promised in a four-wheel drive van. Richie, former logging company employee, now captain and tour guide and accomplished mountain man, talks about the bears. Greg talks about the trees. Greg is driving; Richie is in the back with the beer cooler. I can't hear Greg because I'm listening to Richie. Greg knows everything about trees. I like trees but bears seem a tad bit more important now. I see the rest of the group is equally torn between Richie and his beer-laced bear stories and Greg, with his sober information about local flora. I see conflict brewing in the van as we continue our safari down the old logging road bouncing over stones, stumps and ruts.

"Hey Richie, I'm telling about the trees," Greg says from the front. Greg is interesting and a professional tour guide for the internationally known Tauck Tours. He is the real deal. Richie is 70 years old and stronger than me and you combined. And funnier than a room full of comedians. I am torn.

"What, Greg? What? I can't hear you. I'm telling them about the bears."

"Ye-esss ... I know Richie. But I need you to be quiet because I'm telling them about the trees."

"About what? Trees??"

"Yes, I need for you to be quiet now."

"They don't want to hear about the trees. They can see the trees for chrissakes. They want to know about the bears. Don't you get it, Greg? I'm Just telling them how it is." Richie wasn't arguing. He was just telling it like it is.

And so we bounced on, seeing a bear or two who share the roads, but mostly seeing the wild world of looming, snow-capped mountains and lush forests sandwiched between the unseen Pacific Ocean to the west and high desert to the east.

GLACIAL WATER FALL
You don't know cold water until you've swum in glacial water. We hiked through the woods for about 20 minutes, speaking softly under the domes of giant cedar trees and ancient stumps of trees, felled by equally long-dead loggers. Greg stops alongside one of the enormous stumps and points to a series of "steps" cut into the base that once belonged to a 200-foot tall, 800-year-old cedar.

"See these steps?" he asks. "They are on both sides of the tree. The loggers used an axe to cut them so they could stand about six feet up when they cut the tree down. The base is 30% wider down below than up where they cut in with a two-man hand saw. Saved 'em lots of time." I felt bad for the tree. Must have made a helluva racket falling.

We continued on and one of our group, Hazel, picked up a rock. "I don't want a bear to eat me." Funny. I was starting to forget about the bears.

We were heading to a glacial waterfall where we were going to go for an "Eskimo dip" as Greg called it. And we were heading right there on a trail. I noticed that animals had made the trail. Animals that had big feet.

"What about Big Foot? Anyone ever see Big Foot up here?" I ask.

"As a matter of fact, this is where lots of loggers have said they've spotted Yeti." I can't tell if Greg is joking.

"Most attribute it to a big grizzly walking upright. There's plenty in here. Matter of fact, there's a skull from one that they had to shoot about 15 years ago. It's back at camp."

Camp. That's a nice place to be. Nice and safe. Not like this. Exposed in the woods. My only defense against a bear is Hazel and the rock she's holding on her shoulder.

We hear the water before we see it. Pounding down from some unseen glacier high above. When we arrive, we find water tumbling from a cliff into a pool the size of a small swimming pool. It's deep and misty and loud. The origin of the water is not visible, just sheer rock cliff, wet from the cascade.

"OK, get in!" Greg says, and we look around at who will be first. I've certainly never swum in 35-degree water before. But, what the heck! I take off my shoes and my shirt and stand in the woods in my bathing suit. It's my turn to jump in. It doesn't feel cold. It doesn't feel bad at all. Maybe it's too painful for my body to register. I jump out and feel great. A must do.

As we walk back, I turn my attention back to the bear situation.

"How far are we from a road?" I ask Greg.

"About a hundred miles" Greg says casually.

There are lots of logging roads, but none that really go anywhere, nothing to connect us to civilization. All the cars and equipment are barged in. But there's a nice airstrip just a couple hundred yards from camp. It's only about a 30-minute flight to Vancouver from here.

Dinnertime brings us to the table hungry. And Wayne, the camp cook, makes us lots of delicious food. It's nothing of the "top chef" variety, but it's substantial comfort food that we welcome wholeheartedly.

And bedtime is something special, too. With my window slightly ajar, the sounds from the deep mountains fill the emptiness of the cold Canadian night air. When I awake, we are off to Powell Lake.

POWELL LAKE
Back into the boats, we leave Camp Homathko and cruise over the sparkling fjord under a blue sky. After a few hours or so, we enter the town of Powell River. A town of slightly more than 14,000 residents, Powell River is full of things to do for the outdoor enthusiast. Mostly, it's surrounded by beauty. Sliammon First Nation people still have a strong presence here and this village has been in existence for over 2,000 years. Around the turn of the 19th century, loggers discovered the big trees and the loggers came aplenty. Logging began in earnest around 1908 and four years later, the new pulp and paper mill produced the first newsprint in Western Canada. Now, the town seems quiet but healthy. For outdoor enthusiasts, the land surrounding the town, especially the mountains and the river and lake systems, really hold interest.

Our goal was to get to the floating cabins of Powell Lake, which was much more accessible than the last destination. Powell Lake is actually part of Powell River, with an ancient deposit of salt water 200 feet down below the fresh water. On top of the clear and calm fresh water float about 200 deeded cabins, a few of which Greg Dickie has access to and makes available for his adventures.

We take a fun boat ride on Greg's expertly outfitted Scarab and tour the unforgettable beauty of the lake on an hour cruise to the cabins. The cabins float atop huge cedar and fir logs, making them so sturdy that they feel like they are mounted on the land. All five senses are involved as the colors, smells and sounds of the wilderness immerse us in this rare opportunity for lake living.

Fishing the lake and river is world class. Hike the Sunshine Loop, located adjacent to the cabins, and see wildlife and views beyond description. But my favorite thing to do was to enjoy just being there in the woods with friends. I would recommend this trip to anyone. Note: With the Olympics coming to British Columbia in 2010, there are limited cabins.

Back in Vancouver, Greg takes me around to show me the city from a professional tour guide's perspective. The best parts were the totems and the big trees. There is an eagle's nest high above the water overlooking Vancouver in Stanley Park. It is perched in an old cedar tree. It shares a nice view with joggers and visitors who come to the park to get away from city traffic and the confines of urban living. It has chosen its home just close enough to the wilderness and just far enough from the city. Kind of like the way many of us would like to live.

VIDEO
Here's a two-minute Johnny Jet video of my trip to Desolation Sound. We also have all the Frankie D videos ever made on YouTube.

<< PREVIOUS PAGE | 2

*Please tell us what you think of this story!

Note: This trip was sponsored by Desolation Sound Boat Tours and owner/operator Greg Dickie .

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
International Recreation Expert. Francis J. DiScala (Frankie D) was born to do it differently. On his first camping trip at 10 years old he was sequestered from his group for talking and forced to sleep in an open field away from the safety of the tents. He immediately realized that the moon was much clearer out under the stars and has been "out there" ever since. Never one to say no, Frank has been to Mountains of Montana, Idaho, Arizona bow hunting and sleeping outdoors, fishing off-shore amongst the whales for giant tuna, skiing and snowboarding almost every major mountain in North America, racing motorcycles on international racetracks in New Hampshire, and scuba diving reefs from Australia to the Red Sea in Jordan. fun and games are often interrupted and trips cut short by his need to return to his beautiful wife and to his legal career. He hasn't stopped talking and often can be seen and heard giving strange opinions on television shows including CNN'S Headline News/Nancy Grace and Court TV. Despite a hectic schedule, Frank has also found time to travel and write and in recent years has become an enthusiastic contributor to JohnnyJet.com, one of the most comprehensive travel resources online.

Pics From The Trip