The 2007 sea-kayaking season in Johnstone Strait was well underway when I was asked to take a honeymooning couple on a daytrip out of Telegraph Cove. On the eve of the trip, my thoughts drifted, wondering what the next day’s paddle might bring. I imagined the excitement of being on the water when the Northern Resident Orcas made their first seasonal appearance in Johnstone Strait.
It had been a particularly strange summer so far in the region. The salmon hadn’t yet arrived in full force, nor had the Northern Resident Orcas appeared in Johnstone Strait. Even the region’s long time naturalists remarked the strait’s lifelessness. I promised myself to donate money to salmon conservation efforts if we should see Orcas during the trip.
The next morning I found myself in Telegraph Cove (‘TC’) awaiting the now late honeymooning couple. Three quarters of an hour went by and still no one showed, so I decided to parade around the busy little cove in classic kayaking attire: gumboots, shorts on top of long-johns, a synthetic long sleeve with a bright yellow PFD, topped of with a salt crusted brimmed hat. The ploy worked; soon a blue Ford truck approached me and rolled down the window: "Are you a kayak guide?" they asked anxiously… "Did you just get hitched?" I replied reassuringly. They were relieved I hadn’t left them on account of their lateness. Soon we were all geared up and on the water.
It wasn’t far out of ‘TC’ when it became apparent that on this trip we would see some good wildlife. In the middle of Johnstone Strait, the local whale-watching boats had grouped together and were drifting. Whales were in the area. With cautious optimism, I suggested to the couple that we paddle mid-strait in hopes of spotting a wispy spout or at best a glimpse of a black dorsal fin in the distance. They excitedly agreed.
Ten minutes into our paddle, we noticed a mile away; the whale watching boats had altered their course towards us. We stopped paddling and surveyed the waters in front of us. And there it was, a plume of spray jetting into the air accompanied by the unmistakable tall black dorsal fin of an Orca. To our astonishment, we quickly began to notice several other blows, some moving along the Vancouver Island shoreline and others spanning the width of Johnstone Strait. The Northern Resident Orcas had finally arrived! We formed a tiny raft and waited adrift for the Orcas to pass.
The movement of one particular Orca kept our attention. The distinctively abrupt jets of water made by Pacific white-sided Dolphins closely followed its movements. Suddenly, this frantic group simultaneously turned in our direction. Within five minutes we became engulfed in a euphoric frenzy of marine life. Dolphins were all around us, under our boats, ‘porpoising’ off our bows. The three of us transformed into little giddy children not knowing in what direction we should look.
Abruptly, we were shocked back into reality by the unexpected shotgun blow of an Orca surfacing ten meters astern (important reference to footnote ‘2’). Stunned by the powerful sense of presence that a five tonne animal commands, we silently watched as the Orca slipped back into the ocean depths. As quickly as the waters around us had burst into life, the storm of activity moved on. In silence the three of us reflectively floated… We arrived back at Telegraph Cove stupefied.
While packing away the daytrip gear, the coupled mentioned they had married on July 7th (07/07/07). Apparently they had been experiencing amazing luck on their honeymoon. Although, in the morning they thought their luck had finally changed. Their alarm clock did not go off because the power to their vacation cabin went out and were consequently late. The couple feared they had missed the daytrip. In retrospect, their luck hadn’t changed. Our delayed start assured we were in the right place at the right time to witness the Orcas arrival in Johnstone Strait.
Whether or not this paddling experience was a series of coincidences or wedding luck and telepathic whales holding me to a promise, I can’t say… But like so many stories most sea-kayakers share, it reminds us of the awesome gift of wild encounters and the importance of honouring these experiences through our actions. Needless to say, I happily kept my promise to the Orcas and donated money to an organisation working on salmon conservation.
I am aware that this distance is much closer than the whale watching guidelines allow, but on occasion one is helpless to remain at a distance of 100 meters when these marine mammals change course unpredictably and swim five times the speed you can paddle. I strongly support the whale watching guidelines and do my best to abide by them. The guidelines play a crucial role in assuring that we minimize our intrusions on their natural behaviours.
-Joël Lagassé, Adventurer, February 4, 2008
Porpoising: The characteristic undulating movement of dolphins and porpoises as they surface and dive successively while traveling.
Pacific white-sided Dolphin’s ‘porpoising’ to the author’s starboard near God’s Pocket. Photo: Andrew Jones, Kingfisher Wilderness Adventures.