Parksville, British Columbia
Seals and serendipity
On the seas with bobbing and be-whiskered beings
Taking a step out of the ordinary, in this case, meant leaving dry land. I'm no landlubber; at one time in my life I could swim like a seal. I've snorkeled, I've taken sailing trips, I've canoed and kayaked on lakes and river. My horoscope tells me I'm a water sign. So there was no apprehension or hesitation when the opportunity to go sea kayaking near Parksville on Vancouver Island presented itself.
Who’s Watching Who? Curious harbour seals look for like spectators as we paddle past Mistaken Island.
The morning was cool but calm when my husband Rusty and I met with our guide, Jan Kretz from Adventuress Sea Kayaking Adventures. Jan's business specializes in providing multi-day outings for women—especially those who are hungering for adventures that take them out of their comfort zone and into nature—but she also gives introductory lessons and tours to couples, families, mixed groups and students. On the day of our four-hour tour, it was only the three of us standing on the shore, ready to walk our kayaks into the ocean and see the sea.
Kayaks themselves have an interesting and often undeserved reputation. Most of us are familiar with images of extreme white-water kayaks that Eskimo-roll in the rapids. And because kayaks are not as broad as canoes, they are often seen as unstable. However, with Jan's expert instruction on safety and body positioning, as well as how to right the kayak and protect oneself in case of rolling, the risk is minimized. And as Rusty and I were sharing a sturdy double kayak, we weren't overly concerned about the eventuality. Jan provided information on the different equipment associated with the kayak as well. She showed Rusty how to operate the rudder with his feet, instructed us on proper paddling techniques and explained how to wear the sprayskirt—which is worn by the kayaker and connects to the cockpit to prevent water from entering the kayak—and how to detach it from the kayak if we capsized.
No matter what the stresses of ordinary, day-to-day life, they all melt away when you launch the kayak into the water, settle into the seat and find the rhythm of paddling. The water was smooth and calm, reflecting the high rolling clouds in the sky. On the morning of our trip, the tide was just beginning to ebb, and all along the rocky shoreline we could see tide pools, oyster beds, purple sea stars, a garden of bull whip kelp and the various herons and gulls that enjoy fresh seafood. We paddled past boat docks, rocky beaches and defiant trees clinging precariously to the edges of cliffs. And then, we moved past the point out into open water, away from the shore and towards Mistaken Island.
Mistaken Island is a small private island that was apparently named such because boaters landed on its shores quite by accident, thinking they had landed elsewhere. As we paddled towards it, peering at its shoreline, we were surprised by a pair of eyes peering back at us. A curious harbour seal had poked its head up only a few boat-lengths ahead of us and was watching us as intently as we were watching it.
Clearly, I had to take approximately—and without exaggeration—one million photos of the bobbing seal face.
What is it about seals that is so enchanting? I think it's their eyes. Their whiskered, dog-like faces stare unblinkingly at us with as much intensity and interest as we look at them. We paddled only occasionally as we watched the watchful seal swim in front of us. Moments later, another popped its head out of the water just behind us. We were thrilled with the sightings as we drifted closer to Mistaken Island.
I'm not sure what it was on the shoreline of Mistaken Island that made me stop, look harder and say, "Wait a minute . . ." What had seemed like parts of the shore started to become more distinguishable, even without a lack of movement to catch my eye. Oddly blobby boulders suddenly revealed themselves to be several harbour seals, sunning themselves on the rocks. As we gently paddled closer, heads popped up and we realized that there were in fact dozens of seals—perhaps 50 or more—who were as startled by us as we were by them. Only Jan was in on the secret.
I readied my camera to take one million more photos.
Most of the seals heaved themselves awkwardly but effectively to the ocean but instead of heading for the safety of open water, they hugged the shore. Curious seals bobbed buoyishly in the waves, and all those enchanting pairs of unblinking eyes watched us float by, some of them craning their necks so they could see us better. It was almost unsettling; it was as though we were the ones on display being watched by aquatic tourists.
We rounded the bend and the bob of seals (I looked up the collective name and it seemed fitting) followed us for a bit before losing interest. And once again, we headed for open waters.
The wind had picked up, creating some larger ocean waves and giving us a taste of what it is that makes sea kayaking so thrilling. A kayak sits closer to the surface of the water than a canoe and there is a feeling of being more connected to both the boat and the sea. Riding the swells and feeling the surge of the waves as we were pushed forward reminded us of the power, the force, of the ocean and how completely we were at its mercy. Such thoughts could, I suppose, be sobering. We found it exhilarating.
Even so, we were able to chat with Jan and find out more about some of the amazing experiences she has had on her excursions. A world traveller and true global citizen, Jan is most comfortable in the cockpit of her kayak, guiding groups through the Georgia Strait waters and seeing some of the local wildlife: bald eagles, California sea lions, grey whales and orcas. You can tell when you're talking with someone who loves what they do for a living, and Jan certainly fits that description.
We enjoyed lunch on a quiet beach looking out at the sea, the shore and the sky before making the journey back to where we started. Rusty and I had become very tuned to each other's rhythm paddling, and it was comforting working as a team as we paddled against the current. The only curious faces that noticed us on the way back to our launch site were a few beachcombers. Some were be-whiskered, some boyish, perhaps one was even named Bob. And then we were back at shore, having come full circle.
For more information, see Adventuress.ca.
