Cruising World – August 2019

UNDERWAY

T

he furious wind hurtled
rain at us and churned
thick fog banks down
the steep hills that shielded us
from the 35-knot storm now
seething overhead. We were
hunkered down for the blow,
but with two young sisters on
board, card games and hot tea
would satisfy our crew for only
so long. Talia (12 years old) and
Savai (10 years old) were anx-
ious to get outside and explore,
despite the pelting rain. We
had only a few days to enjoy
the shores of Haida Gwaii,
a remote archipelago off the
coast of British Columbia, and
there was no time to waste.
We donned our foul-weather
gear and muck boots, extra
fleeces and warm beanies, then
piled into the dinghy and head-
ed to shore. Our initial plan, to
hike through the meadow and
up the stream filtering into the
back of the cove, was interrupt-
ed when we spotted a family of
bears grazing and meandering
through the very same meadow.
We stood quietly, a safe dis-
tance back, and admired these
beautiful creatures. These
black bears are genetically
distinct from their mainland
cousins, with more heft, larger
heads and strong molars for
chomping on the hard-shelled
sea creatures abundant in
Haida Gwaii’s large tidal
zones. This bear family was
unperturbed by our presence,
with plenty to eat and little to

fear, but nonetheless we kept

our distance and tucked into

the old-growth forest lining the

rocky shoreline.

The pervasive rain dissipat-

ed as we entered the forest,

the tall sturdy canopy protect-

ing us from the whipping wind

and lashing rain. For several

hours we followed game trails,

clambered up steep hillsides,

splashed through streams,

skirted massive cedar trees,

and paused along the way to

admire a slug, hug a tree or

inspect some scat. All the

while, we talked and sang

to the bears that call these

forests home. “Hey, bear”;

“How are you today, bear?”

These one-sided conversations

ensured the bears knew where

we were so we wouldn’t startle

any of them into action.

The world outside the

forest faded away, the storm

a hazy memory, the rain no

more than a framework for the

blanket of forgiving moss,

the thick reviving smell of

earth, and the thousand shades

of green within the forest.

Eventually, we reemerged onto

the shoreline with leaves in

our hair and smiles on our fac-

es. It was still blustery, but we

didn’t mind. The storm was no

match for the alluring embrace

of the forest, the protection

of seriously waterproof gear,

and a crew with some very

adventurous attitudes.

—Becca Guillote

ISLAND IN

THE CLOUDS

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