Every summer, I look forward to having the truck at home, so we can head north - across the border - to explore some of the most amazing landscapes in the entirety of North America. In all those travels to Canada, the Kootenays - in eastern British Columbia - have continued to capture my attention, with soaring peaks, glaciers, and brilliant lakes that make any hike worth the effort.
But this time, I'd gotten wind of another place. Further north and on the other side of the province, the Central Coast seemed to offer some fantastic landscape of its own. Harder to get to, perhaps, but that would be part of the adventure.
And so, hoping for a good weather window - and to avoid the wildfire smoke covering much of the country - we climbed on a boat headed north. To Bella Coola. And beyond.
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Getting to Bella Coola was a day-long affair in itself. In fact, calling it a day might be overly generous. First, a three-hour drive to Vancouver, where our reservation would entitle us to wait two hours in a ferry line. A two-hour ferry later, we found ourselves on Vancouver Island.
After a quick dinner at the King of Burgers, we set off on a five-hour drive to Port Hardy, at Vancouver Island's northern tip. There, after arriving at 1:15am - and with four-and-a-half hours before we needed to check in (two hours early) for our next ferry - we found a parking lot next to the highway where we could at least shut our eyes - it was impossible to sleep given the intermittent traffic to the ferry terminal - for what seemed like no time at all. In fact, it was no time at all, because our 4:00am alarm gave us just enough time to check in - by 5:30am - for the 7:30am ferry. Naturally we'd reserved that spot too, but I suppose it takes some folks way too long to board a boat.
I think it was a little after 8:00am when we finally departed Port Hardy for the ten-hour push to Bella Coola. It was a moment we'd been anticipating ever since planning the trip. A ferry along British Columbia's coast. An opportunity to see towering snow-capped mountains rising out of the sea, tremendous inlets draining brilliant glacial streams, and of course whales breaching only a few feet from the boat.
Or maybe not.
Almost immediately upon exiting the harbor, we hit fog. And, for the first four hours, we had less than 100 feet of visibility and seas that were choppy enough that I was thankful we hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Surely the crew must be accustomed to these conditions, but my stomach was not. Sleep - and eventually lunch - my only remedy.
Full of food and feeling better, I got up to wander around a bit. Smaller than most vehicle-carrying ferries I've ridden, this one was big enough to be comfortable but still quite cozy.
As we pushed north at some number of nautical knots, the sun eventually began to battle back the fog that had socked us in all morning. As it did, the views extended in all directions. It was hazy from wildfire smoke, but so much better than how it'd been.
Another hour passed, then another. Mile after mile, the Northern Sea Wolf carving a double-bow wave through the now-calm sea. We read. We napped. We putzed around aimlessly on our internet-less laptops. And then, over the ship-wide PA.
Hey folks, this is your captain. Thought everyone might like to know that, up here on the bridge, we can see a whale breaching in the distance. I don't know how close we'll get to it, but if you're interested, head up to the top deck to have a look.
Twelve seconds later, the entire cabin was empty; only dumb luck prevented several folks from flying overboard as the stampede proceeded up the narrow stairway to the upper deck. And then, the pointing began.
Luckily, I'd brought along my long lens, because even at 500mm, it wasn't easy to see Humphrey and his two pals. In fact, I'm not entirely sure it was Humphrey at all; it could have been Harriet, or Humberto.
We were not - apparently - all that interesting to the humpbacks. They kept a wide berth as they flopped their way through the ocean, the oohs and aahs of the pesky humans lost to the rumble of the propeller.
But by now, the whales weren't the only thing to admire. We still had a couple of hours before we'd reach Bella Coola, but the mountains were making themselves known. And they - like the whales - were worth watching.
Without a doubt, the push up the inlet that would deliver us to the Bella Coola harbor was the most beautiful stretch of the trip. We - like so many of the other passengers - were constantly moving from one side of the boat to the other, each view more spectacular than the last.
It was, thankfully, a great way to distract us from the fact that we'd been cutting through the sea for more than ten hours as the captains cut the engines in preparation for landing.
Thirty-one hours. Two ferries, one fog bank, and a near-death-by-whale-stampede after leaving home, we were finally standing in Bella Coola. The truck hadn't left pavement yet. A perfect start to the trip.
The Whole Story
A while back in time, when we put our Westy Synchro on a ferry, Canadian officials wanted to confiscate the spare fuel cans stored on our rear bumper. Why? Because they presented a fire hazard. After a long discussion, we were allowed aboard after an inspector documented that he observed us emptying those tanks and filling them with water. Messy business, that. But rules are rules. I wonder if this policy persists these days.