Latest news with #JenRay
Yahoo
05-05-2025
- Yahoo
Go eye-to-eye with humpbacks on this Vancouver Island kayak tour
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). Suddenly, I hear it: a rush of air and water so powerful that it sounds like a waterfall. It's the unmistakable exhalation of a whale — explosive, resonant and coming from somewhere behind my kayak. Tentatively, I turn my head. I spot it immediately: it's a humpback, rising from the water like a shadowy wave about to crest. Its massive, slate-coloured body glitters briefly in the morning light, before it sinks back into the depths, just as quickly as it had emerged. Soon, the ripples left behind by its mighty flukes fade, and it's like it was never there. For a moment, I'm too stunned to paddle. Compared to the whale, which stretches roughly 40 feet from tip to tail, I am tiny — a speck bobbing in an orange kayak in the chilly waters of the Johnstone Strait, off the northeastern coast of Vancouver Island in British Columbia. I'd arrived by water taxi from Port McNeill on Vancouver Island a couple of days earlier, having signed up for a four-day kayaking expedition with Kingfisher Wilderness Adventures. The trip promised a front-row seat to one of the world's most incredible wildlife shows: orcas (sometimes called killer whales, but actually members of the dolphin family) and humpbacks, viewed from eye level. The nutrient-rich waters of the Johnstone Strait, fed by strong tidal currents, are a grazing corridor for dolphins, sea lions, whales and orcas. 'Sometimes, there's so much activity out here, it's hard to know where to look,' says my guide Jen Ray, a woollen beanie pulled down over her tumble of brown curls, her eyes scanning the water with practised ease. As we paddle onwards, right on cue a pod of sleek black-and-white orcas glides past on the watery horizon, their dorsal fins slicing through the waves. It's a sight that would have been unimaginable just two decades ago, Jen explains as we drift further into the strait. 'The population is bouncing back from the whaling era; the last whaling station on Vancouver Island closed in the 1960s. The humpbacks are returning in serious numbers now because, well, there's just so much food here. It's a buffet for them,' she says. The peak season for sightings is between May and October. That evening, we arrive at base camp on Hanson Island, which sits in the middle of the waterway that separates Vancouver Island from the mainland of British Columbia. It's a simple affair: raised canvas tents, an al fresco shower and a kitchen hut strung with glowing light bulbs. Our small group — including three outdoorsy twentysomething Australians and a couple of middle-aged women — gathers for an evening meal of freshly caught salmon, roast potatoes and garlicky green beans. The island is covered with rocky outcrops, sandy coves and a dense forest canopy of old-growth fir, cedar and pine trees. As night falls, we gather around a crackling campfire under a starlit sky, passing around laminated maps of the archipelago, plotting our paddling routes for the days ahead. Wolves and grizzly bears are known to roam the island, Jen says, quickly reassuring us that the animals are just swimming through and generally keep to the far end of the outpost. At daybreak the following morning, it's not a hungry bear, or an alarm clock, that wakes me but a series of sharp, reverberating thuds — like a gun being fired. I unzip my tent and take a few paces to the shoreline, my steps crunching on pebbles, the world still shrouded in morning haze. Across the water I spot the cause of the noise: a humpback is breaching, propelling itself vertically from the water and crashing back down with a resounding slap. The sound stays with me as we push off from the shore shortly after, kayaks cutting through the fog-drenched waters. Today's adventure will take us on a 12-mile route along the coastline of the Discovery Islands. Within hours, we're passing a posse of around 30 young male sea lions, a boisterous bunch who are belly-flopping into the water from a craggy outcrop and filling the air with loud dog-like barks. They're like the teenage boys of the animal kingdom, showing off to each other as they slip in and out of the water with joyful abandon. Jen chuckles. 'Don't worry,' she says as we bounce on the current. 'It's like passing a group of kids outside a 7-Eleven store. They're harmless'. In the distance, the engine of a whale-watching boat hums across the waters. While that vessel can certainly cover more ground, I'm fast discovering that our kayaking adventure allows for a more intimate experience, bringing us face-to-face with the creatures of the deep. 'You have to work harder for it in a kayak, but when you do spot wildlife it's more rewarding,' Jen says as we paddle down a narrow waterway, the branches of the surrounding trees draped in a thread-like lichen known as witch's hair. On our final day, we opt for the scenic route back to Vancouver Island, hopping aboard a boat with Sea Wolf Adventures — a First Nations Kwakwaka'wakw-owned company. As we glide along the edges of northern Vancouver Island, skimming the Great Bear Rainforest, all binoculars are glued to the shoreline to spot bears lumbering through the dense woodland. 'Over to your left are some of my favourite locals,' our guide, Danielle Dawson, a member of the Kwakwaka'wakw community, says with a laugh as we cruise past a raft of sea otters drifting lazily on their backs, looking like a group of retirees lounging on pool floats. Above them, the calls of bald eagles pierce the air, their cries echoing across the water as they circle overhead. 'It's moments like these that draw visitors here,' Danielle says, zipping her grey windbreaker to her chin as the wind whistles across the deck. As the mist lifts and the boat chugs into port, I realise that visiting this part of British Columbia isn't just about adventure. It's about connection — to the untamed beauty that's been here for millennia. Published in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK).To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
National Geographic
05-05-2025
- National Geographic
This Canadian kayak tour lets travelers go whale-watching at eye level
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). Suddenly, I hear it: a rush of air and water so powerful that it sounds like a waterfall. It's the unmistakable exhalation of a whale — explosive, resonant and coming from somewhere behind my kayak. Tentatively, I turn my head. I spot it immediately: it's a humpback, rising from the water like a shadowy wave about to crest. Its massive, slate-coloured body glitters briefly in the morning light, before it sinks back into the depths, just as quickly as it had emerged. Soon, the ripples left behind by its mighty flukes fade, and it's like it was never there. For a moment, I'm too stunned to paddle. Compared to the whale, which stretches roughly 40 feet from tip to tail, I am tiny — a speck bobbing in an orange kayak in the chilly waters of the Johnstone Strait, off the northeastern coast of Vancouver Island in British Columbia. I'd arrived by water taxi from Port McNeill on Vancouver Island a couple of days earlier, having signed up for a four-day kayaking expedition with Kingfisher Wilderness Adventures. The trip promised a front-row seat to one of the world's most incredible wildlife shows: orcas (sometimes called killer whales, but actually members of the dolphin family) and humpbacks, viewed from eye level. 'Sometimes, there's so much activity out here, it's hard to know where to look,' says Kingfisher Wilderness Adventures guide Jen Ray. While larger vessels cover more ground, kayaking adventures allow for a more intimate experience, bringing kayakers face-to-face with the creatures of the deep. The nutrient-rich waters of the Johnstone Strait, fed by strong tidal currents, are a grazing corridor for dolphins, sea lions, whales and orcas. 'Sometimes, there's so much activity out here, it's hard to know where to look,' says my guide Jen Ray, a woollen beanie pulled down over her tumble of brown curls, her eyes scanning the water with practised ease. As we paddle onwards, right on cue a pod of sleek black-and-white orcas glides past on the watery horizon, their dorsal fins slicing through the waves. It's a sight that would have been unimaginable just two decades ago, Jen explains as we drift further into the strait. 'The population is bouncing back from the whaling era; the last whaling station on Vancouver Island closed in the 1960s. The humpbacks are returning in serious numbers now because, well, there's just so much food here. It's a buffet for them,' she says. The peak season for sightings is between May and October. That evening, we arrive at base camp on Hanson Island, which sits in the middle of the waterway that separates Vancouver Island from the mainland of British Columbia. It's a simple affair: raised canvas tents, an al fresco shower and a kitchen hut strung with glowing light bulbs. Our small group — including three outdoorsy twentysomething Australians and a couple of middle-aged women — gathers for an evening meal of freshly caught salmon, roast potatoes and garlicky green beans. The island is covered with rocky outcrops, sandy coves and a dense forest canopy of old-growth fir, cedar and pine trees. As night falls, we gather around a crackling campfire under a starlit sky, passing around laminated maps of the archipelago, plotting our paddling routes for the days ahead. Wolves and grizzly bears are known to roam the island, Jen says, quickly reassuring us that the animals are just swimming through and generally keep to the far end of the outpost. As night falls, campers gather around a crackling campfire under a starlit sky, passing around laminated maps of the archipelago and plotting paddling routes for the days ahead. A small group gathers for an evening meal of freshly caught salmon, roast potatoes and garlicky green beans. At daybreak the following morning, it's not a hungry bear, or an alarm clock, that wakes me but a series of sharp, reverberating thuds — like a gun being fired. I unzip my tent and take a few paces to the shoreline, my steps crunching on pebbles, the world still shrouded in morning haze. Across the water I spot the cause of the noise: a humpback is breaching, propelling itself vertically from the water and crashing back down with a resounding slap. The sound stays with me as we push off from the shore shortly after, kayaks cutting through the fog-drenched waters. Today's adventure will take us on a 12-mile route along the coastline of the Discovery Islands. Within hours, we're passing a posse of around 30 young male sea lions, a boisterous bunch who are belly-flopping into the water from a craggy outcrop and filling the air with loud dog-like barks. They're like the teenage boys of the animal kingdom, showing off to each other as they slip in and out of the water with joyful abandon. Jen chuckles. 'Don't worry,' she says as we bounce on the current. 'It's like passing a group of kids outside a 7-Eleven store. They're harmless'. In the distance, the engine of a whale-watching boat hums across the waters. While that vessel can certainly cover more ground, I'm fast discovering that our kayaking adventure allows for a more intimate experience, bringing us face-to-face with the creatures of the deep. 'You have to work harder for it in a kayak, but when you do spot wildlife it's more rewarding,' Jen says as we paddle down a narrow waterway, the branches of the surrounding trees draped in a thread-like lichen known as witch's hair. Take the scenic route back to Vancouver Island with Sea Wolf Adventures, a First Nations Kwakwaka'wakw-owned company. On our final day, we opt for the scenic route back to Vancouver Island, hopping aboard a boat with Sea Wolf Adventures — a First Nations Kwakwaka'wakw-owned company. As we glide along the edges of northern Vancouver Island, skimming the Great Bear Rainforest, all binoculars are glued to the shoreline to spot bears lumbering through the dense woodland. 'Over to your left are some of my favourite locals,' our guide, Danielle Dawson, a member of the Kwakwaka'wakw community, says with a laugh as we cruise past a raft of sea otters drifting lazily on their backs, looking like a group of retirees lounging on pool floats. Above them, the calls of bald eagles pierce the air, their cries echoing across the water as they circle overhead. 'It's moments like these that draw visitors here,' Danielle says, zipping her grey windbreaker to her chin as the wind whistles across the deck. As the mist lifts and the boat chugs into port, I realise that visiting this part of British Columbia isn't just about adventure. It's about connection — to the untamed beauty that's been here for millennia. Kingfisher Wilderness Adventures offers a four-day Whales and Grizzly Bears tour from C$2,410 (£1,295) per person, including guided sea kayaking, camp accommodation, meals and a scenic boat tour with Sea Wolf Adventures. This story was created with the support of Destination British Columbia. Published in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
