Kynock Inlet, British Columbia
Canada’s national anthem echoed off the glacier-carved cliffs of Kynock. And so it should have! We had finally caught up with the sun and its warmth. The mist and refreshing drizzle of the temperate rainforest were behind us. Shorts and shirtsleeves were in order.
Even as Sea Bird inched quietly into this remote wilderness park on British Columbia’s convoluted coast, stars peeked through thin clouds. Those still in bed peered out, amazed to face a majestic waterfall lighting the dawn just feet from their comfy cabins. Patches of blue sky followed as the sun sent spotlight-beams onto conifers and glistening bedrock.
Our kayakers made a great selection today. Slinking silently along tidal shorelines, they found a proud mother bear with her twin cubs. Soft-seated Zodiacs took others into distant coves of clear water. Still others stepped lightly through the mud, silt, sand and gravel of a rich tidal estuary, its base materials deposited over centuries by fast-flowing rivers. Hikers quickly found the source of the essential nutrients that feed everything in this fragile ecosystem - salmon! Hulking chum or dog salmon had reached their final destination. Having spent 3 or 4 years at sea, ripening gametes and raging hormones had driven them to return to their place of birth. Some had faltered and fallen, trapped by ebbing tides and left to die in too-shallow tributaries. Their contribution to the nutrient table will not be wasted. Most, however, found the gravel beds of their birth and had settled into a fight for dominance. The impressive “dog” teeth of the males were lashing out at any rival or invader. Breeding rights must be earned, with the strongest most often successful in passing on their genetic code.
Eagles were here - easily 50 or more - as were ravens, crows, gulls, sparrows and tiny least sandpipers. Each was after its share of riches. Western redcedars, spruces, hemlocks, alders and crabapples will burst to life again in spring as they “root-out” ocean nitrogen brought to the soils by salmon. Perhaps the lofty mountain goats will not descend so low as to find that nitrogen, but they will continue to thrive. And a blacktail deer - a young buck - swimming well out into the inlet, may itself have been seeking a rich new streambed to explore.
The open Pacific Ocean greeted us briefly at Milbank Sound, and lived up to her calming name. Seabirds that we had missed in the north appeared – rhinoceros auklet, Cassin’s auklet, western grebe – and evidence of forestry, the paramount economic force of this province, came in the form of clear-cuts, some growing as we watched a costly but efficient helicopter logging operation.
The vastness, diversity and stark beauty of Canada’s western-most province cannot really be appreciated with a brief visit such as ours. An invitation to return remains open.
Canada’s national anthem echoed off the glacier-carved cliffs of Kynock. And so it should have! We had finally caught up with the sun and its warmth. The mist and refreshing drizzle of the temperate rainforest were behind us. Shorts and shirtsleeves were in order.
Even as Sea Bird inched quietly into this remote wilderness park on British Columbia’s convoluted coast, stars peeked through thin clouds. Those still in bed peered out, amazed to face a majestic waterfall lighting the dawn just feet from their comfy cabins. Patches of blue sky followed as the sun sent spotlight-beams onto conifers and glistening bedrock.
Our kayakers made a great selection today. Slinking silently along tidal shorelines, they found a proud mother bear with her twin cubs. Soft-seated Zodiacs took others into distant coves of clear water. Still others stepped lightly through the mud, silt, sand and gravel of a rich tidal estuary, its base materials deposited over centuries by fast-flowing rivers. Hikers quickly found the source of the essential nutrients that feed everything in this fragile ecosystem - salmon! Hulking chum or dog salmon had reached their final destination. Having spent 3 or 4 years at sea, ripening gametes and raging hormones had driven them to return to their place of birth. Some had faltered and fallen, trapped by ebbing tides and left to die in too-shallow tributaries. Their contribution to the nutrient table will not be wasted. Most, however, found the gravel beds of their birth and had settled into a fight for dominance. The impressive “dog” teeth of the males were lashing out at any rival or invader. Breeding rights must be earned, with the strongest most often successful in passing on their genetic code.
Eagles were here - easily 50 or more - as were ravens, crows, gulls, sparrows and tiny least sandpipers. Each was after its share of riches. Western redcedars, spruces, hemlocks, alders and crabapples will burst to life again in spring as they “root-out” ocean nitrogen brought to the soils by salmon. Perhaps the lofty mountain goats will not descend so low as to find that nitrogen, but they will continue to thrive. And a blacktail deer - a young buck - swimming well out into the inlet, may itself have been seeking a rich new streambed to explore.
The open Pacific Ocean greeted us briefly at Milbank Sound, and lived up to her calming name. Seabirds that we had missed in the north appeared – rhinoceros auklet, Cassin’s auklet, western grebe – and evidence of forestry, the paramount economic force of this province, came in the form of clear-cuts, some growing as we watched a costly but efficient helicopter logging operation.
The vastness, diversity and stark beauty of Canada’s western-most province cannot really be appreciated with a brief visit such as ours. An invitation to return remains open.
