The Haida Gwaii archipelago is a mix of geologic wonder and myth. In fact, they’re often one and the same, from the Taaw Tldáaw to the legendary Golden Spruce and countless others.
For the aspiring adventurer, Haida Gwaii can be a wondrous place to be immersed nature, best experienced in spring. Be prepared, though, for nature at its most raw.
Not your weekend getaway
Getting to the isolated islands is not easy, even if you hail from somewhere relatively nearby.
From Victoria it’s more than a 1,500-kilometre drive just to reach the ferry terminal in Prince Rupert. Then you still have to cross Hecate Strait — an infamous 80-kilometre span of shallow sea separating the isles from the rest of the world.
If you’re not deterred by the distance, another challenge is Mother Nature. A typical day and a stormy day are synonymous, ensuring it won’t be smooth sailing
When I set sail on the MV Northern Adventure, the waters surrounding the Port of Prince Rupert were tame. It was early April 2022, and the sky was monotone-grey with a persistent drizzle.
As the ferry made its loop around the harbour, the more seasoned passengers staked their claims to nostalgic nooks and comfy corners. Those in the know about the crossing’s unpredictability headed to their rented cabins and into bed.
After travelling through a fringe of countless islands, we emerged from the protected coastal waters to Hecate Strait, a physical experience for both passenger and crew.
You could feel the roller coaster of motion in your stomach. Looking out the stern windows, I watched a portrait of black-ink-coloured clouds filling the sky, then quickly and rhythmically falling into a crackling torrent of white foam.
Five-metre swells exploded against the hull below.
Nervous laughter rippled throughout the passenger decks. Even the regulars were feeling uneasy.
The ship rocked from side to side, with each sway gifting a view of the swirling jade-green depths below, beckoning those who stared into it to come closer.
Then the ship’s speakers cut the eerie silence with an electric crackle and the voice of a man introducing himself as the captain. Everyone hushed and listened closely.
“Just please remain seated and, uh, try not to move around until we get to calmer seas,” he said.
A storm had hit the region several hours earlier than forecast by Environment Canada, the captain explained, and out of an abundance of caution, the vessel would be turning back to shelter behind the coastal islands until the storm passed.
He promised to provide an update in two hours.
One woman, a sitting councillor of Old Massett, struck up a conversation with me as we both sat by the window and absorbed the force of nature we were experiencing.
She told me about the “old days” of the crossing and how she had once been stuck on the ferry for three days.
“Good thing I booked a cabin,” she said with a laugh.
Six hours later, the system finally passed and we were given the go-ahead to cross Hecate Strait.
While the sea was calmer, a persistent deep swell kept some passengers on edge throughout the journey, before the vessel finally arrived at Skidegate Landing just after midnight.
Terra and tale
For lovers of legends and nature, Haida Gwaii goes the extra mile.
Snow-capped mountains, dewy meadows, cool wet rainforest, dusty sand dunes, muddy bogs, endless beaches, rivers and ocean — these isolated islands have it all.
It’s all part of the Haida’s history, culture and legends and should be treated as a relic — taken in, enjoyed and then left the way you found it.
Driving up Highway 16, you’ll zip by many small and delightful wonders. If you don’t keep a sharp eye out, you’ll miss them.
Some are just out of sight while others require you to strap on your rainboots and race to beat the tide before it leaves you stranded several kilometres down the beach.
The latter can be found tucked behind the town of Tlell at the southern edge of Naikoon Provincial Park.
If you brave the turning of the tides, you can stroll through the forest, out onto the muddy beach trail and toward sandy cliffs to find, just out of reach of dry land, the shipwreck of the Pesuta.
This lonely wooden skeleton marks the beginning for those who come to journey the more than 100 kilometres of beach and forest trails of Naikoon Provincial Park.
On the opposite end of the park, on its north coast, lies Agate Beach.
As Highway 16 ended, the pavement disappeared and my blue Honda Civic SI rolled onto the dirt road. It was April, so the road was less like dirt and more like a supple and slippery mud, similar to wet potter’s clay, that repeatedly gave way to potholes only visible at the last moment.
After traversing the tricky track and enduring the comically surprised looks from locals seeing a vehicle that had no right being there, I arrived at Agate Campground.
Rolling up to the shoreline, I stepped out of my car and onto the edge of the world.
North, straight out across the dark sapphire sea, were the peaks of Alaska. With a slight tilt of your head westward, you can get lost across the endless Pacific.
It’s a sensational sight.
Sitting on the edge of the beach, the view punched me in the face — a stunning vista of cold sea squeezed between southern Alaska and the shoreline.
On the beach were all types of minerals, including the beach’s namesake, agate, a translucent rock with a slightly white tint you can find in abundance along the coasts of Haida Gwaii.
They’re “the diamonds nobody wants,” a passing local explained.
Proudly standing where the beach ends is Taaw Tldáaw (Tow Hill). An ancient volcano half-cleaved away by glaciers and relentless waves, it now looks over Haida Gwaii and its sister islands to the north.
It was exactly the kind of place I was looking for. A perfect place to fall asleep with no one around.
I was completely exposed and immersed in the elements.
As I bundled myself into my makeshift bed in the passenger seat of my Civic, I watched the sky melt away to an acrylic-red sunset and then dozed off as an armada of stars guided me to unconsciousness amid a steady whispering wind.
Wake to the sound of the wind
I woke up from a less-than-perfect sleep.
The gentle wind had turned into a hard front during the night. I had woken up with a pit in my stomach fearing I had made a grave error.
I was completely exposed and immersed in the elements.
However, I made it through the pitch-black night after an ungraceful and panicked effort to move my car, and only shelter, behind a thin line of trees as a wind-break.
It was a lesson learned at the right time.
As morning came, the wind had opened up the skies and the warmth began to absorb the moisture from the surrounding rainforest. Beams of sublime sunlight pierced the rich air with glowing columns of light for half the day as I hiked through the forest.
Seeking to avoid the previous night’s events and prepare for the next night, I made my way to cell service.
It had only blown 40-50 km/h the night before. Not that strong considering the region. The real blow was expected the upcoming night.
Environment Canada issued a warning forecasting 110 km/h winds. That’s hurricane-force atmospheric action, for the record.
A responsible sense of urgency took over, but April is for adventuring. So a hotel was still out of the question. After all, all the campsites are free in the off season on Haida Gwaii. I just needed to find the opposite version of Agate Campground and hope a tree didn’t fall on me in my sleep.
So, before sundown, I drove back down to the southern end of Naikoon Provincial Park and headed for Misty Meadows.
A perfect location for adventure-seekers looking to shelter from storms, it’s enclosed by a protective pine forest, yet is a few minutes’ walk from the shore.
The preparation paid off and the dense pines muffled the thrashing winds and protected me from the storm, which hit in the middle of the night.
Stronger storms often last well into the next day. So, for those eager to witness nature’s wraith, Haida Gwaii is the place to be.
You’ll see how the winds can whip up the sea and how all the birds come out to fly playfully over the edge of the dangerous crashing waves — and then it all blows gently away, leaving open and sunny skies once again, as if it never happened.
