Vancouver Island holds many treasures; some are among the most popular outdoor places in Canada, like the West Coast Trail. Others are just as magnificent but hidden because of difficult access. The result is often a pristine place, where everything is undisturbed, peaceful but strangely mysterious, Tashish-Kwois Regional Park is one of those places, like a lost Valley in the deepest inlet of Kyoqout Sound.
It is no mean feat to get to Thasish-Kwois, there are 80km of logging roads with their potholes and winding hairpins from Woss to the Artliss River. The only reasonable way into the park is by water and the easiest access to the water is by an abandoned logging camp near the Artliss river mouth.

We arrive late in the day and the sun is already setting over the mountains to the west. The logging camp looks sinister in the dusk, abandoned vehicles and freight containers like sieves from some trigger-happy travelers. A large dump pile is in one corner; burned Lucky cans bear witness to a weekend of partying. I am glad that party is not tonight considering the bullet holes and all. Byron starts preparing firewood, cutting down one of the thick stumps that litter the gravel lot. As darkness begins to vail the hills to the west we eat our dinner, we are excited, cannot wait for morning with its light, and our destination.

Morning arrives, misty and cool we prepare the gear and load the canoe, I speculate if it will carry us as it is loaded high above the gun vales. It floats and glides smoothly through the mirror like surface of the water. As we come up on the mouth of the Artliss River a flock of birds rise from the grassy meadows, through the mist like flurries.
The Tashish River mouth is a preserved area, islands and skerries make for an interesting paddle, and we are greeted by seals, their heads popping up all around us. We are disturbing their salmon gathering and rush through to the river mouth.

We decide to go as far up-river as we can without too much of lining and portaging. The river is not deep but passable most of the way. At the first bend in the river we have to get out and line the canoe through small and shallow rapids. I am glad that I took the time earlier in the week to re-gelcoat and add a keel-strip to the canoe, the river is hard on it and my pretty paintjob is getting uglier by the hour.
After 2 hours paddling and lining we come to a big pocket in the river and at the west side of it is a natural harbour. This looks promising, we jump out of the canoe and walk up a small gravel ridge and there it is a perfect place for base camp.

Next morning greets us with rain, and we prepare breakfast in a hurry, gear up and head for the canoe. Paddling upstream is easy, the current slow and the river is deep enough. After a while we have to step out of the canoe and line it through some shallows, wet does not do our state justice. It is pouring and to top it all we are wading the river in our hiking boots, the water up to our mid calf.  After a while we come to a bend in the river with deep enough water to support a paddled canoe. Paddling on in the rain begins to be Zen like, so we are startled by a moving animal. On the bank there is an elk, a Roosevelt bull elk in all it´s glory. We paddle slowly towards it and let the canoe slide, picking up cameras and snap away. Finally the bull sees us and darts away, scaring it´s herd in the process. We had not even seen the herd, camouflaged by the evergreens and the soft mist from the rain.

Now we had a mission, to follow the herd slowly but surely. Paddling through a bend in the river we see the herd grazing in a small alcove. We slide the canoe on to shore and make our way towards the grazing animals. We get our shots as we inch closer and closer to the magnificent animals, realizing in the process just how big these Roosevelt elk are. All of a sudden the herd becomes aware of our presence and bolt away in frenzied stampede. We run, stopping occasionally to shoot, then running again.
The excitement has warmed us up and we are hungry for more encounters, paddling in the rain seems like a breeze. The going is good on the river, bolstered by the rain, providing a virtual canoe highway. At last we run into shallows and have to get out of the canoe. As we beach we see a bear in the distance, it is making it´s way up the river about a 500 yards ahead of us. We get out the long lenses and stalk it, but soon it wanders from the river and into the forest. I always get my heartbeat up in the presence of bears, probably because I am from Iceland, where the most dangerous animal is a domestic ram.

Next morning we awake to a sunny sky, and decide to enjoy the sun and to fry out some gear. After a long and hearty breakfast we do our chores in silence.
Feeling tired and nursing a headache I go for a lie down in the tent. As I manage to forget myself, I start conjuring up thoughts of bears. I imagine Byron calling out, “Snorri a bear, a bear” and somehow in the limbo between sleep and awareness it´s very real. I realize that Byron is actually calling with hushed emergency, “Snorri a bear, on the other side of the river.” I get out as quickly as I can without making too much noise; this is why I was here, the “bear-aphopic” making a stand against fear.

It was not frightening at all; the bear sniffed his way along the riverbank on the other side of our base-camp, looking for something to eat. We followed gracefully, as is possible with tripods and long lenses, snapping away hoping for the moment to last forever. The bear, not as graceful rolled along, falling down of logs and clumsily getting up on other ones.  Nearly comical in its lumpy slow walk, yet graceful moments appeared as the bear swiped the surface of the river without a splash or a sound, grasping a salmon. The silver streak went from its paw to mouth in an instant. Suddenly the magic was broken as the bear rushed into the undergrowth with its prey.
Later in the day a group of fly-fishers make their way to our part on the river. The beat on the hole with their rods and soon every one of them has caught a salmon. One of them gives us a big one and the menu suddenly changes from rice and cliff bars to a fatty delicious salmon. What an end to the day.

It is time to go home, and after packing the canoe we push from shore and pray for deep water. The river is much better after all the rain and we hardly have to do any lining. We float through the estuary photographing the birds feeding in the rich waters. We paddle on and decide to follow the shore with its shallow water, peering into it for some interesting sealife. As we paddle on leisurely we hear noises, like a baby crying and see snouts coming up spraying water like mini whales. Sea Lions in the midst of mating pop up out of the water and the experience seems to be painful, if there is anything to go by the sounds they make. We paddle slowly around them, photographing but also aware of our tippy canoe. After a while we get the feeling that we´re being followed. The school of sea lions is always at the same distance. We begin to paddle more briskly and after awhile they seem to loose interest in the clumsy canoe.
As we near the beach by the logging camp, a sad feeling overwhelms me – the journey is at its end. I make a pledge to visit this place again some other day, some other time.

 

Tags: bc, bears, blackbears, canoe, kwois, paddling, roosevelt elk, tashish, tashish. kwois, vancouver island

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 19th, 2009 at 5:50 pm and is filed under Feature, Hike, Locate, Paddle. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.