In the not-so-distant past, two adventurers — armed with questionable wisdom, rental kayaks, and a stash of Tuscan salami fit to feed a small village — set forth on the shíshálh (Sechelt) Peninsula. Their mission? A daring circumnavigation filled with hopes of finding sea creatures, spectacular views, and the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t checked the weather closely enough.
It all started off well — until the wind turned into a mischievous adversary, the current refused to cooperate, and they began to wonder if they’d bitten off more than they could chew. But as the days unfolded, the challenges only added to the magic of their journey.
Would they make it around the peninsula in time? Or would the wild currents and their even wilder manifestations (not to mention some minor gear mishaps) test their resolve? Either way, they were in for a ride — one that was just as much about the camaraderie and discovery as it was about paddling through one of the most beautiful landscapes British Columbia has to offer.
The Grand Plan: When Paddling Dreams Meet Tidal Reality
At the beginning of August, fresh off our escapade to Granite Falls, I didn’t think I’d have time for another adventure before leaving the country in mid September. But of course, I underestimated Zarar and his uncanny ability to concoct epic, last-minute plans. As we lay sprawled on the grass at Deep Cove, still catching our breath from packing up all our gear, he casually tossed out: “Let’s circumnavigate an island next!” Me (laughing): “Oh sure, right after I build a bridge to the moon. You know, something manageable.”
I laughed it off — he has a way of throwing out wild ideas like that — but the thought lingered like an itch. Weeks went by, and when Zarar brought it up again, I recognized he was serious. So, we rooted through options, trying to find something that would fit into a tight schedule: maybe somewhere around Tofino, Ucluelet, or Victoria. But transportation was a nightmare. shíshálh (Sechelt) kept creeping back into the conversation — it had kayaks, scenic beauty, famous rapids, and, most importantly, we could get there using public transportation.
By the end of August, I reached out to Halfmoon Sea Kayaks on Instagram. Cam responded quickly, suggesting I email him with more details. It was only a rough idea at that point, but I was hoping for a bit of expert insight to help shape our plan. Instead, I got a terse reply: “Happy to answer any further questions after you’ve sorted your paddling times with tides and currents.”
Suddenly, the reality of planning hit like a splash of cold water. The clock was ticking, and I hadn’t even started checking the tides or mapping out distances. Dusting off my never-before-used Paddle Canada Level 2 skills that Zarar and I had only acquired in April, I dove into tables, charts and route planning, double-checking every detail. It wasn’t until I saw how long each day of paddling would be that I realized 3 days just wasn’t going to cut it — especially with the tides working against us.
Zarar wasn’t thrilled that we didn’t plan together from the start, but time was running out, and we still needed to get our leave approved from work. In the end, we stretched it to 4 days. Even that seemed ambitious, but it was do or die at this point.
With days off secured, kayaks booked, and the plan set, we mostly put the trip out of our minds — until, of course, the night before we left. We’d worked till closing that day, barely managing to grab food supplies last-minute. Naturally, we went overboard with the provisions. If there was one thing we weren’t going to run short of, it was food. The final rush of packing was a chaotic mess of stuffing gear, double-checking essentials, and hoping nothing too important had been left behind.
In theory, the plan was as follows. Of course, theories rarely hold up against strong headwinds, tides, and human nature.
| Date | Distance | Paddle Time ~ 4 km/h | Route |
|---|---|---|---|
| Aug. 15th | 30-36 km | 8-10 h | Friendship Park to Francis Point or Fearney Point Arriving with 1st ferry & bus we’d be 9:45 am in ch’atlich (Sechelt), hopefully launching by 11am |
| Aug. 16th | 25-31 km | 6.5-8 h | Francis Point or Fearney Point to skóokum chùck (Skookumchuck) Álhtúlich (Sechelt) Islet |
| Aug. 17th | 16 km | 4 h | skóokum chùck (Skookumchuck) Álhtúlich (Sechelt) Islet to Kunechin Point |
| Aug. 18th | 18 km | 4.5 h | Kunechin Point to HSK |
Sea Kayak Sechelt Circumnavigation – Google My Maps
Day One: A Late Debacle and Our Dance with the Wind
Universal Chaos and the Uber That Almost Didn’t Get Us There
The adventure truly kicked off long before we even hit the road. Two days before our grand departure, I was packing up my entire life, preparing to leave Canada for good immediately after the trip. That meant everything — yes, all 55 kilograms of my worldly belongings — had to be carted to MEC, weighed, and meticulously packed to meet the flight’s baggage requirements. Naturally, this also included all the gear for the trip, which I checked multiple times just to make sure nothing crucial was forgotten. Spoiler alert: I forgot our trip notes. So, despite my best efforts to avoid it, we had to make a detour there on the morning of our departure. As if that wasn’t enough, no coffee was brewed at the office this early, leaving us caffeine-deprived at a moment we needed it most.
You’d think that people who work at an outdoor equipment company — especially those who run workshops on how to prepare for trips — would be masters of efficient packing. But the truth is, we get hung up on the details far too often, fussing over the smallest gear choices instead of actually being ready on time. In fact, I’d argue we might even be the worst at sticking to a plan as complacency creeps in. The day before the trip, we worked until closing at 10 p.m., then rushed to Safeway for last-minute groceries. Not exactly a recipe for efficient preparation.
Zarar took this disorganization to new heights, opting for a “quick nap” before waking up at 2 a.m. to stuff everything haphazardly into his monstrous duffle bag.
Our Uber driver, bless his soul, only added to the chaos by missing the turnoff to Horseshoe Bay. “How does he not know how to read Google Maps directions?” I muttered to Zarar, as frustration built with every unplanned minute lost. The day was slipping through our fingers, and we hadn’t even left Vancouver yet.
Miraculously, we made it to Horseshoe Bay just in time, lugging all our gear across the lot and rushing to the ferry terminal. I managed to snag my ticket from the machine, but Zarar wasn’t quite so lucky — he missed the “cutoff” time by mere seconds. He had no choice but to head over to the till, where the lady gave him a knowing smile.
“I swear I just blinked, and the machine shut down on me! Can I still get a ticket?” Zarar asked, panting. The terminal lady smirked. “Ah, the old ‘I was just seconds away’ routine. You’re not the first, but you might be the most dramatic.”
Zarar defended himself, “I promise, it’s not as dramatic as it sounds. I’m not here to audition for a soap opera!” The lady raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Well, you’ve certainly got the ‘flustered traveler’ part down. Let me help you before your co-star abandons ship!”
She probably watched the whole debacle, betting on whether we’d actually make it. Thankfully, we did, and with tickets finally in hand, we sprinted the strangely long distance to the gate, hauling all our gear. When we got there the woman at the terminal had a good laugh watching us hobbling onto the ferry.
From Chaos to Kayaks
At last, it was time for our long-awaited breakfast and coffee (or better yet, hot chocolate with a shot of coffee!). Zarar took a leisurely stroll around the top deck to soak in the views, I dashed to the board store, frantically searching for one little thing that could derail our trip: an SD card. I had my camera ready, but of course, the cards were still in my tech backpack. Because what adventure is complete without a little extra chaos, eh?
As we crossed the water, there was a brief moment of calm, the sea breeze washed away the morning’s stress. But that tranquility was short-lived. Once we disembarked, reality hit us like a slow-moving bus. And I mean literally.
When we docked at Langdale, we were among the last to exit, treated to a front-row seat of departing trucks and their lovely exhaust fumes. Arriving at the bus stop, we found out the last bus had just left. We should’ve disembarked with the other foot passengers — impeccable timing, right?
Naturally, the bus showed up right when I sat in the portaloo. Zarar, with remarkable speed, had to stall the driver by loading his gear at an excruciatingly slow pace. Thankfully, it worked.
The ride to Halfmoon Sea Kayaks felt endless, each minute ticking by. We knew we wouldn’t arrive before 10:45 a.m., and instead of rapid bus that could make it in 30 minutes, they opted to provide two slow buses that only differed by 15 minutes. Classic.
Finally, we arrived in ch’atlich (Sechelt) and found a quaint little market square. I dashed around, desperately looking for a place to buy an SD card, checking the grocery store, the Best Buy Express (which wouldn’t open until later), and even Marks, which all turned out to be yet another letdown.
Meanwhile, Zarar relished the chance to lay back for a moment and not haul our stuff around. I dropped my “Five Stages of Guse” on him, and he nearly lost it at the third stage — “Bees in a Butt.” After our little comedy session, we were picked up by Cam from Halfmoon Sea Kayaks, who brought our kayaks along.
As we loaded up, Cam couldn’t help but chuckle at our disheveled state, “Did you guys pack your entire homes or just the essentials?”
Guse: “A little of both, but I definitely forgot my indispensable SD cards!”
Zarar: “And I probably left my braincell back home.”
Cam: “Well I hope you find it, you might need it. And I know exactly where to find an SD card.”
Thankfully, the kayak rental folks were absolute legends, sorting everything out while we scrambled to make the most of the dwindling daylight. They even knew a spot to fill up water, which we had conveniently forgotten until that moment.
Top-Gun Launch Turned Tug-of-War: The Battle that Rocked Our Route
By the time we finally launched from Friendship Park, it was already 11:48 a.m., and our “ideal itinerary” a distant memory. Still, we took a moment for a little Top-Gun tribute, feeling like hotshots ready to dominate the open water.
Zarar: “It’s a bit windy, just a bit, and look at those waves! This is going to be… interesting.”
Guse: “Well, we probably should have launched earlier, we are behind schedule. Let’s go!”
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With that, we launched into the great — for us unknown — Salish Sea. But the thrill faded quickly as the wind turned against us. Each paddle stroke met stubborn resistance, waves rocking us with ease and splashing over our decks, like nature was reminding us that it didn’t care about our plans.
Breaks? Hardly. Zarar, however, fancied “strategic resting”, a noble effort to prevent our butts from going numb. Tough we only stopped once at a spot with bricks, one bearing graffiti that read “Danger” — naturally the perfect place for a snack. After that, I pushed us onward, fearing we’d run out of daylight before reaching a campsite near Francis Point.
We passed the offical marine campsites on Sxwe̒lap (Thormanby) Islands, which were plentiful and picturesque but would have pushed our next day’s distance to over 40 kilometres. Originally, we aimed for a spot further north, but as the hours ticked by and progress slowed, we reluctantly began searching for campsite within the next 5 kilometres along the shore.
We scoped out potencial sites around Smugglers Cove, but most of the shoreline was either private property or day-use-only parkland, where camping was strictly prohibited. With official options scarce, we found ourselves looking for places in the grey area between legal and “just don’t get caught.” I kept pushing to check out the next potential spot, nearly leaving Zarar behind.
He gave me grief for getting too far ahead, pointing out that we could barely hear each other and wouldn’t be able to help if something went wrong. He was right. I’m so used to traveling solo that I often have to check my ego and remember we’re a team — not just two adventurers sharing the same trail. I really didn’t want to backtrack to the earlier spot we’d passed.
Finally, with our hands practically claw-shaped form paddling, we settled for a small islet closer to shore, deciding to call it a day. As we pulled up with high tide, the sunset painted the sky in stunning hues of orange and red, adding a touch of grace to an otherwise gruelling day. The only distraction was a barking dog from a nearby private home — apparently, we hadn’t requested permission to be there.
A Night Under the Stars… Sort of
Gear drying, food cooking, and banter flowing, we settled in for the night. Tents? Tents are for those who don’t trust the weather. We opted to sleep under the stars — at least for a while. Once the sun set, humidity crept in, dampening our gear and a towel over my sleeping bag proofed no match for the mosquitoes. When one bit my lip, I finally gave in and angrily pitched my tent.
Reflecting on the day, we realized we should’ve taken more breaks — not just for our bodies, but for our minds. Although my motto usually is “steady with fewer breaks,” I admitted that pausing to explore the land could’ve enriched our experience. Still, I don’t regret pushing forward; that dinner under the sunset was nothing short of magical.
Sechelt Peninsula Circumnavigation / Day 01 | Strava
Day Two of Surprises: The Universe Provides
The next morning dawned like a gentle slap in the face: beautiful, yes, but you still felt it. Zarar’s master plan for rest went in full swing, with breaks every two hours. This time, he did more than just rest: he used manifestation! I don’t know how he does it — Perhaps he has the ear of some cosmic entity, chuckling as it grants his whims. Though their search for the official campsite proved fruitless, they stumbled upon a holy grail.
And just when they thought the day couldn’t get any more ridiculous, they heard nature’s own way of saying “Look at us!” and a divine aura made a dazzling appearance, while a luminary lit their path like a spotlight on the greatest show on Earth.
Indeed, the universe had rolled out the red carpet for two bewildered adventurers with front-row seats to the wonders of nature — popcorn not included.
A Damp Start and Departure Delays
The morning began as a damp struggle against the elements. After the night’s humidity seeped into everything, it felt like the moisture had claimed not only our gear but also our motivation to get moving. I was already up and munching on breakfast when Zarar emerged from his tent around 7 am.
“Alright, let’s shoot for an 8 am departure,” I suggested, trying to sound optimistic. Zarar, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, shot me a look that could have withered even the most determined drill sergeant. “Sure, Guse, and I’ll invent a time machine to make that happen.”
It was clear that my suggestion of leaving in an hour was more fantasy than reality, considering the state of our gear and the general pace of the trip. “Hey, I thought I’d keep pushing so we wouldn’t settle back into laziness,” I replied, but deep down, I too was grappling with the idea of packing up all the damp gear.
With the morning sun just starting to peek over the hills, the thought of rolling up our wet tents and bags felt unappealing at best. Her weak warmth felt like a blessing, offering at least a brief opportunity to dry out some of the soggier gear. I reluctantly conceded that a bit of extra time basking in the morning sun wasn’t the worst idea after all.
Low tide didn’t do us any favors, either. The launch site had retreated beyond a maze of rocks and logs slick with morning dew and moss. Each step was a tentative negotiation between maintaining balance and avoiding a faceplant into the seaweed. Carrying the kayaks over the treacherous terrain required as much care as paddling into rapids.
By the time we finally managed to pack the damp gear and get the kayaks in the water, it was closer to 9:30 am. I glanced at my watch and sighed, “Well, only 90 minutes behind schedule… a new record for us! Progress, right?”
A Smooth Paddle to Francis Point
Once we hit the water, it felt like a fresh start, a welcome departure from the damp chaos of the morning. We hugged the coastline, taking advantage of the conditions that seemed to have shifted in our favor. The wind was mercifully at our backs, pushing us along with less resistance than the day before. I could almost convince myself that today would be smooth sailing.
It took us less than two hours to reach Francis Point Provincial Park, a testament to our uplifted spirits thanks to the favorable conditions. Arriving at Moore Point, we decided it was time for a well-deserved snack break. We found a perfect spot on the rocks to bask in the sun, allowing us to soak up the warmth after the morning’s chill.
“I could get used to this kind of relaxation,” I said, stretching out on the rocks and closing my eyes for a moment. Zarar grinned, already digging into his stash of snacks. “Just imagine if we had more salami!” We certainly enjoyed this brief moment of tranquility.
Frolickheining Shenaningans: A Swing into Agamemnon
As we continued our paddle in the Agamemnon Channel, we passed some strange signs resembling the Japanese flag.
“Look at those! What do you think they’re for? Some sort of fancy sushi place?” Zarar mused, striking a comical pose as if he were about to be featured in a travel magazine.
I laughed, “Maybe it’s an invitation for us to join a secret culinary club. Just what we need on a kayaking trip — more food!” This prompted Zarar to throw out a ridiculous impression of “Haiii Samuraiiii”, mimicking an exaggerated Japanese accent (and failing miserably), which had us both in stitches. Our laughter rippled across the water, reminding us to appreciate moments like this that make an arduous journey worthwhile.
After a while, Zarar excitedly speculated about how cool it would be to find a rope swing somewhere along the route. Just when we thought we might take a break, we stumbled upon an old rope tied to a tree right by the water’s edge.
“Look! The universe has delivered!” I shouted, unable to resist making the classic “Hooowaah!” sound you hear before a karate attack, striking a pose with my paddle as if I were about to split something in half.
Zarar had been manifesting this very moment, and now we had to act. We paddled over, securing our boats before racing toward the swing like excited children.
The rope looked a bit worse for wear — brittle and shedding what appeared to be Smurf-like blue hairs. “Uh, are you sure that’s safe?” I hesitated, eyeing the rope. Zarar just laughed, swinging out a couple times and gaining more confidence before letting out a gleeful “Whoooop!” as he launched himself into the water.
“C’mon, Guse! You know you want to go full Tarzan and the water is so nice!”he shouted with laughter. I watched, half-envious and half-amused, as he embraced his inner child, realizing that I had lost some of my own adventurous mojo over the years of traveling.
After several jumps, we returned to our kayaks, slightly damp and giggling, already eager to see what the rest of the day would bring.
Of finding the Perfect Campsite
After our impromptu frolickheining session, we continued paddling east toward Quatam-moos (Egmont Point). The Marine Trails map had promised us a straightforward journey, but the reality was less accommodating. We soon found ourselves navigating a maze of rocky outcroppings and conflicting coordinates.
Zarar frowned at the map. “Are we sure we’re going the right way?”
“I think so? The GPS mark should still be one outcrop further,” I replied, trying to mask my own uncertainty. We passed the marked campsite on the charts, only to find it hidden in the trees and looking rather lackluster — tiny and cramped.
“Do you think we should set up here?” I asked, glancing at the underwhelming spot. Zarar shook his head, a determined glint in his eyes. “Let’s keep looking! There’s gotta be something better.”
And there was! We pressed on, finally spotting an ideal campsite further up the coast. The wooden table, rusted chairs, and fire pit we found made it seem like a hidden treasure after our initial disappointment.
“Forget Quatam-moos (Egmont Point), this is our site, the Guse and Zar Point, ZarGuse maybe?” Zarar declared, feeling triumphant as we set up camp. I could already tell it would become my favorite campsite of the entire trip.
A Night of Wonders
With camp established, we turned our attention to dinner. As we cooked, the sun began to dip below the horizon, giving way to the golden hour. We settled down to enjoy our meal, savouring a splash of coconut rum that Zarar proudly revealed — especially since I had surprisingly forgotten the coconut water I swear by, remembering how much I enjoyed it on our last trip to the Granite falls.
In the darkness we gathered some driftwood lying about and lit a bonfire using Zarar’s pocket rocket as a flame thrower — concerningly, he seemed a tad too eager for that little firestarter…
Suddenly, the sky shifted, and to our amazement, the northern lights flickered faintly over the hills to the north. I rushed to capture the moment with my camera, aware that the view was far more stunning on screen. “Look at that!” I exclaimed, trying to photograph the dancing lights.
With the full moon rising above the hills, brightening the surroundings, it dimmed the northern lights and gave me pause to relax and finally settle around the fire. The warmth enveloped us as we shared stories, laughter, and dreams — marveling at the unexpected wonders of the evening. It was moments like these that reminded me why I loved the outdoors and the adventures that came with it.
Then, amidst the beauty of the night, we heard the unmistakable sounds of whale spouts in the distance. “Did you hear that?” I called out to Zarar, raising my voice just enough to get his attention as he fished around in his kayak. “Guse, you have a knack for hearing spouts!” Zarar whispered back, recalling our previous paddles alongside “Whaleium”, our resident Grey Whale off Spanish Banks.
Sechelt Peninsula Circumnavigation / Day 02 | Strava
Day Three: The ‘You’ll-Never-Believe-What-Happened’ Bit
As the sun crept over the horizon, it painted the world in golden hues, awakening dreams and, perhaps, a few regrets. Zarar and Guse, our intrepid explorers, were up and at ’em, ready for a day that promised more twists than a tangle of seaweed. They were prepared to paddle into the unknown, armed with coffee, courage, and the vague notion that today could be monumental-or utterly chaotic. Spoiler alert: it was a bit of both.
Morning Encounter: The Dance of Blackfins
“Did you hear that? Was that…” I asked Zarar, who, to my disbelief, was already halfway into his kayak, paddling furiously, still in his PJs. “A SPOUT? YES! BLACKFIN, MEET THE BLACKFINS!” he exclaimed, referring to his Greenland paddle. I was ready to set up my camera, but they headed north. By the time I finally made it onto the water, Zarar was a tiny dot, over 500 meters ahead of me in the vast expanse of the inlet.
Lazy breakfasts are the best breakfasts, but the allure of those spouts and large fins breaching the waters surface had us dropping everything. Suddenly, the calm of the morning was shattered as the wolves of the sea — nature’s undisputed apex predators — graced us with their presence. It didn’t take long to realize these were Resident Orcas, and we were lucky enough to witness the pod putting on an unforgettable display, gliding and breaching like ocean royalty.
Zarar’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning as he paddled alongside them, trying to channel his inner orca. I half-expected him to leap out of his kayak and join them. We caught up to the pod, watched multiple fins breach the surface, spouts spraying all around us. One orca even smacked its tail into the water, sending a spray of sea foam into the air. They seemed to be having a blast — literally.
Later, while reviewing Zarar’s footage, we discovered that he had also managed to capture the orcas’ underwater calls, adding an extra layer of magic to the encounter.
I realized if I don’t intervene, Zarar would be off to infinity and beyond, happily joining the orcas’ migration. “Zarar!” I yelled, “We have a schedule, and living in the ocean with orcas wasn’t part of the plan!” He was still paddling alongside them, mesmerized by the experience, and ignored me at first. But eventually, he turned back, albeit reluctantly. In hindsight, we should’ve just paddled alongside them forever and renamed ourselves honorary members of their pod. Ah, regrets.
Fueling Up: Coffee and Currents
After we packed up our camp, it was past 11 am again — consistent with our late starts of the past days. We never thought we’d forget anything on a campsite, but well, someone did. More about that later.
Crossing from the north side of the Álhtúlich (Sechelt) inlet to the south and into the Egmont harbour against the current felt already pretty tough. Though I had my first kayaking experiences whitewater Kayaking when I was ten, this was both of our first times navigating strong currents in a setting like this. Before venturing further, we enjoyed a quick coffee and snack from Bathgate’s Store, which was a welcome energy boost.
As the fearless duo ventured further, they encountered the wilds of skóokum chùck (Skookumchuck) Narrows, a place where the waters roar, the whirlpools swirl, and Guse started seriously considering going back to his previous career as a graphic designer. Not really, though; that would be far too boring after all this! This — apart from this trip being Guse’s last hurrah in Canada — was supposed to be the highlight of their adventure. At least this morning’s orca frenzy stole the show.
The Great Debate: Adventure vs. Safety
We handrailed along the west shore, playing in the strengthening currents as we eddy hopped against the current further down the Álhtúlich (Sechelt) inlet, only to realize it after the fact, that we had already passed through the infamous spot of the roaring wave. Having crossed over to a nearby islet, we dropped all gear, sat down, grabbed our “All Meat” sandwiches that we bought earlier, and settled down to watch the natural spectacle unfold.
It was only then that we realized we had navigated the tidal rapids within the exact five minutes of slack tide — a window that, according to our calculations, should have occurred an hour earlier. Turns out, I had to eat my words. I hadn’t believed it when I read that those calculations could be off by as much as an hour on any given day. It was a first for us on this trip — hitting an exact time point after mostly running late. So maybe there was no need for me to stress about our schedule after all!
As impressive as it was to witness the tide shift so quickly, we knew we had to move if we wanted to tackle the currents before they grew too rough. We unloaded all gear off our kayaks, portaged them to the opposite side of the islet, and paddled a wide loop around another islet — first against the current, then with it — before gliding into an eddy to check out the Skóok wave. Pro white water kayakers were already out there, showing off their skills.
Just 30 minutes after slack tide, the current swelled into waves that were already at 60 to 70% of its peak height for the day. Our plan was to paddle straight through rather than try to surf, but we got pulled around and barely made it to the end where we regrouped. Zarar initially thought I’d capsized since I was nowhere in sight, but I was hanging back to watch the pros before following him a few minutes later.
The countercurrent carried us back to Roland Point, where we climbed onto the rocks near the pros, watching their friends catch waves and perform tricks. Naturally, Zarar hyped himself up to paddle the notorious currents. “Lad, we’ve got this, this is how we take Frolickhein to the next level!” he declared, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Sure, we do. If by ‘this’ you mean a strong desire to live,” I countered, trying to keep a straight face as the adrenaline surged.
We stood there, watching the waters churn like an espresso machine on overdrive, debating for what felt like an eternity. It was the thrill of paddling into a maelstrom of death versus the comforts of… well, not doing that. The clock was ticking. In the end, with Zarar in full ‘extreme sports mode’ insisting “let’s go full throttle,” and me firmly on the side of “Let’s not die today,”wisdom finally prevailed. We concluded that our experience wasn’t quite up to surfing the Skóok wave safely this time. But Zarar wasn’t ready to give up — he vowed to train, overcome his initial fear, and return to conquer it one day.
Finding Shelter: Campsite Shenanigans
From Roland Point, we faced two bends where the current surged, determined to push us west as we tried to cross back to the east shore and retrieve our gear. Zarar radioed, “You don’t need to go that far, lad. Here’s good enough.” But I wasn’t convinced. Out in the open, the current was relentless — you’d lose four times the distance you’d just gained if you stopped paddling for a moment. I stuck to my route.
I watched with a touch of schadenfreude as Zarar fought against the even stronger currents near the islet. He graciously conceded defeat after realizing he wasn’t covering any distance, no matter how hard he paddled, swung back to join my path behind another islet, where I had a slight break from the rushing water. After that, the crossing became surprisingly smooth, until we neared the islet with our gear. Here, the current split, pushing left and right, forcing us to paddle hard through the narrow center to avoid getting swept into rocky shallows or tossed about in the swirling waves. Thankfully, we navigated it without incident.
Once we portaged our kayaks across and packed up, we set off again, playing through the last of the whirls and rapids south of the Skóok wave. The currents separated us briefly, but with only a minor flow left, we regrouped quickly and began the hunt for a pristine campsite. The plan was to reach Kunechin Point at the opening of Salmon Inlet, but as night crept in, we realized we couldn’t make it that far.
Spotting a potential campsite, we landed to take a closer look. Zarar reached it first and discovered a dirt road nearby, along with scattered wooden pallets. It looked like a work-in-progress campsite named D10 eluding to the existence of other sites in the area on Doriston Camp Road (the name kind of gave it away). There was a makeshift table — a stone slab balanced on two logs — and a rusty old fire pit. We quickly unloaded and set up our tents as darkness settled in.
Just as we were getting comfortable, Zarar’s face suddenly went pale as it hit him like a wave — in all the excitement of the orca encounter, he’d forgotten to double-check his packing: he’d forgotten his sleeping bag. “Looks like someone’s in for a chilly night!” I teased, unable to resist. He tried to brush it off, but the frustration was clear.
With the sun dipping below the hills, we got a fire going, its warm glow turning our patch of wilderness into a cozy, lively retreat. As we huddled around the flames, we recounted the day’s adventures and chuckled over Zarar’s ill-fated decision-making. The crackling fire and our easy banter filled the air, transforming our rough-and-ready campsite into a haven of good spirits.
Reflecting on the Day: Embracing Nature
As the flames danced and the stars began to twinkle overhead, I found myself reflecting on the day. We had faced off with orcas, navigated challenging currents and whirlpools, and laughed through the chaos, embracing the raw beauty and unpredictability of nature.
“Tomorrow holds new adventures,” I said, raising my cup of coconut rum in a toast to the wild.
“Indeed,” Zarar replied, with a grin, “and maybe I’ll even have a sleeping bag to enjoy them!”
Their laughter echoed into the night, mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees and the distant roar of the tidal rapids. They savoured the moment, feeling alive and ready for whatever the next day would bring — or at least, Guse was ready. Zarar, however, was about to discover just how many layers of clothing it takes to turn a cold, sleepless night into an “adventure.”
Sechelt Peninsula Circumnavigation / Day 03A | Strava
Sechelt Peninsula Circumnavigation/ Day 03B | Strava
Day Four: Reality Bites (But So Do Burgers!)
Every grand adventure must come to an end, much like the shelf life of a soggy salami stick left too long in a backpack. Their last day began slowly, with Guse’s signature “Wakey Wakey” tune (potential chart-topper… or so he hoped). The water was calm, the paddling easy, but the melancholy was real.
We lingered in the morning, neither of us in much of a rush to rejoin the world. I dropped one of my signature “Guse eggs,” according to Zarar, telling him, “In the seven years I’ve been traveling, I’ve learned to savor moments like these — paddling with orcas, catching the northern lights, and staking out our own slice of wilderness for the night.”
Finally on the water, my camera lens was fogging up with moisture, which was, frankly, just the universe rubbing salt in the wound of returning to civilization.
I also fished a random floating beer can from the ocean — because, why not? It was a pale ale, for those wondering. (Not too bad I‘d say, but Zarar nearly retched with the first sip and handed it back like it was a cursed artifact.)
Eventually, we paddled on, only to encounter a speed-swimmer darting past Poise Island. A woman on shore shouted a warning to “watch out!” As if a paddler could somehow miss a human torpedo slicing through the water.
Landing in ch’atlich (Sechelt), we packed up, but the fun wasn’t over yet. Lunch at the bar was, of course, a victory feast. We both ordered well earned burgers, Zarar had fries, and I, well, I had a salad, earning me endless mockery. “I had to,” Zarar later said with a grin. He also struck up a long chat with the waitress about living on a boat to escape “city life.” A new dream in the making? Who knows — Zarar’s always only one paddle stroke away from his next adventure.
Then the gear haul awaited, looming like a dark cloud over us. “Well, we probably shouldn’t have returned,” Zarar declared with dramatic flair. Just as we prepared for the arm-straining trek, I spotted a trolley. I’d say it appeared as if by magic, but I prefer to think I summoned it — like Zarar the rope swing before — with sheer force of will (and a bit of good karma).
We loaded our stuff, made it to the bus, and collapsed with exhaustion as we headed back. The ferry ride home was bittersweet. Zarar wistfully gazed at the moon while I enjoyed some well-deserved ice cream. Back in the city, reality hit us harder than a wet paddle to the face. We crashed at Zarar’s place, and thus ended our frolickhein adventure.
And so, like all great adventurers before them, Guse and Zarar returned to the realm of city lights and Wi-Fi. Their journey through the shíshálh (Sechelt Peninsula) would forever remain a tale of triumph, of orca chases and bonfires, forgotten sleeping bags, and swing ropes and trolleys that mysteriously appear. The world would never be quite the same again. And neither would they… at least, not until the next “frolickhein-fueled” escapade.
Sechelt Peninsula Circumnavigation / Day 04 | Strava
Conclusion: Embracing the Journey
As we sat by the campfire on our final night, the warmth of the flames mirrored the bond we had forged through our shared adventures. I couldn’t help but reflect on how this journey had become much more than just a paddling trip; it was a testament to friendship, resilience, and the sheer unpredictability of nature.
From starting out as rookie kayak instructors to leveling up our skills during the Paddle Canada Level 2 course, in just half a year we’ve shared so many unique experiences. There was the times we paddled alongside a gray whale off Spanish Banks, who we affectionately named Whaleium, and led our first expedition to Granite Falls and the Indian Arm Estuary. Each challenge we embraced only strengthened our connection with the ocean and to each other. This latest adventure, circumnavigating the shíshálh (Sechelt) Peninsula, felt like the culmination of everything we had learned. In a short span, we had grown so much, taking on every challenge that presented itself forging a greater bond between us and a stronger respect for the ocean.
“Remember, Guse,” Zarar chuckled, his eyes dancing with the firelight, “adventure isn’t just about the destination; it’s about the stories we collect along the way.” Those words echoed in my mind as I recalled our encounters with orcas, the thrill of navigating treacherous currents, and even the humor in Zarar’s ill-fated sleeping bag incident. Mistakes are part of the experience; just don’t pollute the environment too much — looking at you, Zarar!
“Next time, I’m packing you a sleeping bag as a backup,” I teased. “I’d hate for you to freeze and start snuggling with a raccoon for warmth.”
Through every challenge, we learned valuable lessons about trust — not only in each other but also in our abilities to adapt and thrive in the wild. Nature has a way of teaching us about ourselves, pushing us out of our comfort zones, and urging us to embrace the unknown. (Clichés, I know, but guess what? They’re true for a reason.)
As we packed up our gear on that bittersweet morning, I felt a sense of gratitude for every moment—the laughter, the exhaustion, the breathtaking views, and even the aching muscles. “We might be back in civilization, but adventure never ends,” I reminded Zarar, feeling the pull of future escapades already taking shape in my mind. “Just imagine the stories we’ll have for our next trip! I’m thinking we go somewhere with fewer whirlpools and more snack options.”
“Maybe I’ll even remember my sleeping bag,” Zarar shot back with a grin. “And definitely stay with the orcas longer. Blackfin calls out to be with his own kind!”
As I stepped onto the plane to Mexico a day later, I not only carried the spirit of my last journey with me but also my entire life in 55 kg of gear. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of my fellow passengers wondering why I looked like I was about to embark on an expedition to the North Pole rather than a tropical paradise. If only they knew I had a lightweight hammock and an emergency chocolate stash buried (more than a dozen thanks to our discount) somewhere in the depths of my duffel!
So, to anyone reading this: I encourage you to seek out your own RAD adventures, no matter how big or small. Whether it’s a weekend getaway or a spontaneous road trip, step outside that comfort zone and immerse yourself in the beauty of nature — as long as we still have her! You never know what stories you’ll create or what lessons you’ll learn along the way. Who knows? You might even discover that the weight of your gear is no match for the lightness of your spirit.
Gear Breakdown: The Essentials (and Some Overkill)
When it comes to gear, I follow the motto: “Pack for the conditions, but only bring what you need.” With each adventure over the past ten years, I’ve learned more about what I truly require versus what I can do without, and developed a modular system with a versatile checklist that adapts to different trip lengths, means of transportation, terrains and conditions.
Yet, I haven’t quite dialed in the perfect kit for multi-day kayak expeditions. That’s how I ended up a bit overpacked this time. While experience typically teaches you to pack lighter and smarter, the diversity of past adventures sometimes makes it tempting to prepare for every possible scenario.
It’s not so much about being underprepared as it is about learning to trust that you’ll adapt as you go. And when you’re fortunate enough to have kayaks doing the heavy lifting, it’s easy to let “Justin Case” /‘just·in_case/ sneak a few more items into the gear pile.
So, what exactly does one need for a multi-day kayak trip, aside from a healthy dose of “frolickhein” adventure spirit? That’s a fantastic question — one that countless experienced paddlers have answered before. Rather than reinventing the wheel, I’ll keep it simple and focus on what we actually used during our trip. For those interested in more comprehensive packing tips and checklists, I’ve included some resource links below:
Mandatory Paddling Gear for Kayaks, Canoes & SUPs
Canoe or Kayak Camping Checklist
Our Trusty Kayaks: The Atlantis Titans
For this journey, Halfmoon Sea Kayaks provided us with the Atlantis Titans— sturdy touring kayaks known for their stability and solid performance on extended trips. However, we couldn’t help comparing them to the Seaward Guide 17s from our previous Granite Falls adventure.
Right away, the Titans revealed some limitations. Adjusting the foot pegs highlighted cramped cockpits, offering less legroom than we’d hoped for. The hatches also had flimsy clips on loose bungees, which didn’t inspire much confidence. We retightened them for a snug (and somewhat waterproof) fit. And just to reiterate for “Justin” wink: packing everything into dry bags is a must. The smaller hatch openings and lower storage volume also made stashing gear like solving a 3D puzzle.
On open water, the Titans tracked beautifully, but their bulkiness made navigating rapids feel like wrestling a shopping cart (trust me, I’ve got recent experience here wink). Fortunately, rapids only made up about five percent of the journey, so it wasn’t a major drawback.
Perhaps we were just used to Seaward Guide 17s’ agility and ease in handling waves and narrow passages, thanks to their rockered hulls and hard chines — not to mention the superior comfort (ask our buds)!
All things considered, the Titans were dependable workhorses that got us through, but if given the choice, we’d still reach for the Guide 17s.
On-Deck Gear + Safety Equipment
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Aqua Bound StingRay Fiberglass 2pc 220cm Paddle (THE Standard Rental Paddle) | Gearlabs Kalleq Greenland Paddle aka “Blackfin” |
| Random 2pc Spare Paddle | Random 2pc Spare Paddle |
| North Water Micro Tow Line (on body the first day, then stowed away) | North Water Micro Tow Line (stowed away) |
| North Water Micro Throw Line (on deck) | North Water Micro Throw Line (on deck) |
| North Water Paddle Float | North Water Paddle Float |
| North Water BilgeMaster Pump | North Water BilgeMaster Pump |
| Kokatat Neptune PFD | NRS Odyssey PFD + NRS Swig Hydration Pack |
| Standard Horizon HX890 Radio | Standard Horizon HX890 Radio |
| Fox 40 Sharx Whistle | Fox 40 Sharx Whistle |
| Guide First Aid Kit (self-assembled 100/170pc) | Adventure Medical Hiker First Aid Kit |
| Garmin Descent MK2i Watch | WindRiver Digital Clip Water Resistant Watch |
| Aqualung Big Squeeze Dive Knife | |
| Map Case + Charts, Tide Tables etc. | |
| Deck Compass |
Paddling Clothing
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Outdoor Research Seattle Gore-Tex Sombrero | MEC 5 Panel Hat |
| Oakley Sutro Sunglasses | Vallon Malizia Sunglasses |
| Level 6 Neoprene Gloves | NRS Gloves |
| Level 6 Neoprene Socks | Level 6 Neoprene Socks |
| MEC South Shore Long Sleeve Sun Shirt | Helly Hansen Rash Guard (better durability & fit) + Ripcurl Rash Guard |
| Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Paddle Hoody (was warm enough, never used it on the trip while paddling) | NRS Hydroskin Neoprene Jacket 1.5 (warm and excellent midlayer over a rashguard) |
| Bedrock Cairn Evo Pro 3D Sandals + Birkenstock Arizona EVA Sandals | Level 6 Booties |
| Billabong Amphibian Shorts | Level 6 Shorts + Capris |
| Aqualung Bali HydroFlex 3mm Wetsuite (only used the 3rd day for the Skóok) |
Spare + Camp Clothing
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| MEC Synergy Rain Jacket (good to have just in case) | Mustang Survival Torrens Jacket |
| Patagonia Nano-Air Hoody (used at camp for chilly moments) | Patagonia Down Jacket + North Face Summit Series Long Sleeve Fleece |
| Patagonia Capilene Cool Merino Camp Shirt (always good to have a fresh camp shirt) | North Face Summit Series Long Sleeve Fleece |
| Patagonia Terravia Alpine Camp Pants (good against camp mosquitoes) + Fancy Spare Fleece Pants (forgot the Brand) | Cotopaxi Veza Adventure Pants + prAna Vaha Pants |
| Icebreaker Socks (good to have spares just in case) | Extra socks and boxers |
| Wilderness Wear Socks (warm socks for those chilly nights, my favorite socks from Australia) | 2x Smartwool Hike Mid Cushion socks |
| Patagonia Quandary Shorts 8” + Fjellraven Keb trousers (a decent pair for before and after the trip) | |
| Fjallraven Keb Hoody (didn’t acutally need that one) | |
| MEC Basecap | |
| Mamut Fleece Beanie | |
| Merino Buff | Bula Therma Comfort Neck Tube |
| VivoBarefoot Primus Trail III SG | VivoBarefoot Primus Trail Knit FG |
Shelter + Sleeping
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Durston X-Mid 2 Tent | Nemo Dagger Osmo 3P Tent |
| Tyvek Tent Ground (self-made) | |
| Leki Ultratrail FX One 125cm Poles (used as tent poles) | |
| 6 knockoff Groundhog Tent Stakes | |
| Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XTherm Pad | Nemo Tensor Sleeping Pad |
| Blackwolf Hiker 500 Sleeping Bag | Nemo 30F/-1C Riff Sleeping Bag (R.I.P.) |
| Hikenture Pillow | Nemo Filo Pillow |
| Helinox Chair Zero | Nemo Moonlite Elite Chair |
| Silver Bubble wrap foil (spare pad insulation, also makeshift seat pad and cushioning for chair) | |
| MEC Silicone Scout Tarp |
Storage
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Sea to Summit Lightweight Dry Bag 3L (for Toiletries) | Sea to Summit Lightweight Dry Bag 13L + 20L |
| MEC Nano X-Hail Compression Dry Bag 10L (for sleeping bag) | MEC Nano X-Hail Compression Dry Bag 20L |
| 2x MEC Brooks Dry Bag 20L | Sea to Summit Big River Dry Bag 30L |
| Nite Ize RunOff Waterproof Packing Cube S (for Wallet, Powerbank, Cables) | Sea to Summit Compression Dry Bag 13L |
| Nite Ize RunOff Waterproof Packing Cube M (for my Camera) | GearLab Deck Pod 2.0 |
| Dry Bag 30L | GearLab Paddle Bag |
| GearLab Gear Wrap Duffel | |
| Cotopaxi Del Dia Hip Pack | |
| MEC Nano 5L Dry Bag |
Kitchen + Utensils
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Soto Windmaster Stove | MSR Pocket Rocket Deluxe |
| Soto Navigator Small Bowl | Sea-to-Summit Collapsible Kettle |
| Soto Thermostack Pot Cup | GSI Pot |
| 3x 250g Isopro Cooking Fuel (MSR, JetBoil, GSI) | MSR Pot Handle |
| Rubbish Bags Small | 1x 250g MSR Fuel |
| Sea-to-Summit Titanium Spork |
Water for 4 days
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Hydrapak Seeker 6L Water Container | Hydrapak Seeker 6L Water Container |
| MRS 8L Dromedary Bag (didn’t need it, tried to use some of it on the last day for morning tea, but it probably wasn’t stored right and didn’t taste good…) | |
| Osprey Hydraulics LT 2.5 L Reservoir | NRS 1.5L Reservoir |
| 1.5L PET Juice (infamouse pee bottle) | 2x 1.5L PET Bottles |
| Grayl Ultrapress Purifier (THE BEST PURIFIER there is in my humble opinion, used it all my remote trips, even south-east Asia and it always provided the best tasting water) |
Food & Snacks for 4 days
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| 2x Piller’s Tuscan Salami Sticks | 4x Piller’s Tuscan Salami Sticks |
| 3x Quaker Quick Oats | Cheez-It Crackers |
| 3x Apples | Safeway Brownies |
| 4x KIND Dark Chocolate Nuts & Sea Salt Bars | Tetley Black Tea + Don Q Coco |
| 4x Probar Superfruit Slam Bars | AlpineAir Shakshuka |
| 4x Honey Stinger Organic Energy Chews | Happy Yak Pad Thai |
| 2x Backpacker’s Pantry Pad Thai with Chicken | Happy Yak Shrimp Curry |
| 2x AlpineAire Hearty Beef Stew | Happy Yak Spanish Eggs |
| Nomad Nutrition Ukrainian Borscht | 3x Nonshim Hot & Spicy Ramen |
| AlpineAire Kung Pao Grilled Chicken | Xact Electrolyte Tablets |
| AlpineAire Al Pastor With Cilantro Lime Rice | Carnation Evaporated Milk |
| 4x Tea bags | Coconut rum |
| 4x Hot chocolate | |
| 6 pack Asian noodles | |
| KIND Raspberry Granola |
Toiletries
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| MEC Compact Towel XXL | Sea To Summit Tech Towel Medium |
| Tooth Brush | Tooth Brush |
| Tooth Paste | Tooth Paste |
| Lotion for Face, Hand & Feet | Sunscreen |
| Toilet Paper in a zip-log bag | Sea To Summit Wilderness Wash |
| UPF 50 Sunscreen |
Electronics
| Jacob | Zarar |
|---|---|
| Nitecore NU25 Headlamp | Black Diamond Storm 450 Headlamp + Black Diamond Moji R+ light |
| Nitecore NB 10,000 Powerbank (only needed on last day as phone was on flight mode and still had ~30%) | RavPower 26800mAh Power Bank (Lasted Whole Trip with 2 bars remaining of charge) |
| Fuji XT4 Camera + 125 GB Kingston MicroSD to SD Card + spare battery | Go Pro 12 Black + 512 GB SanDisk Extreme MicroSD Card + Floating Handle + 1 spare battery |
| iPhone 11 in Otterbox Fre Waterproof Case | Samsung Galaxy S10 + Nite Ize Run-Off Phone Case |
| iPhone Charging Cable | |
| USB-C Charging Cable | |
| Mini Wallet with Money & Transit Pass |