bears | Wing's World

For those of you who read my 2023 post on the various meanings of “BC”–don’t worry, I won’t subject you to more of that. I just couldn’t resist a nod to one more extraordinary BC discovery.

Since The Mate & I learned that a close friend got an amazing admin job at UBC in Vancouver–just up the road from us–we’ve been itching to go visit. Of course, since said friend’s job is just starting, we realized we needed to give him a little time before popping by…but by then our fires were lit. Maps were out. Venues were calling.

Yes, that’s a glacier, as seen from an airplane. I’ll explain.

Bella Coola is accessible three ways: by ferryboat–if you go to Vancouver Island, drive all the way up to Port Hardy, and ride the ferry for 16 hours. By car–if you drive 350 miles north from Vancouver, then turn left and drive another 250, 60 of which is gravel, including a super-sketchy portion known as “The Hill.”

photo courtesy Wikimedia, by some driver braver than I am!

Or you can fly. That’s the option we chose, and, despite the expense, we were SO glad we did. The sight of so many still-healthy-looking glaciers filled me with joy (despite my very scratchy window). And our descent…!!!

Not for the faint of heart…but worth the ticket if you love thrills. And peaks.

I grabbed this shot of the cockpit of our 20-seater plane, just to show the narrowness of the valley we descended into:

Green = safe. Yellow = LOOKOUTFORTHATMOUNTAIN!!!

Once down, The Mate and I looked around, then looked at each other and said the same thing: “Didn’t we just see this in Yosemite?”

Only this is no national park; this is where folks LIVE. That building? It’s an elementary school.

The town of Bella Coola is at one end of a loooooong inlet, giving way to a looooong, skinny valley, which ends in Tweedsmuir Provincial Park, and The Hill. One thing we quickly realized: with so little flat ground, hiking trails for our aging bodies were somewhat limited. But we managed.

This one included extra perks: suspension bridge, whee!

A couple of them I did alone, like Lost Lake:

But we didn’t let the lack of long hikes interfere with our awe and delight about the place, from large features…

…to small:

I even got to enjoy a fun cultural scavenger hunt, thanks to a Lopez Island friend who told me her Norwegian great-grandpa was buried at a Lutheran church in Bella Coola. I told her I’d try to find his grave, but all I found was an old-looking church, not Lutheran, with no cemetery, and this (closed) cultural center:

“Sorry,” I told my friend, “I’ll keep looking.” But meanwhile–forget humans, we had bears to find! September is full salmon-run season, so we hoped to see both fish, and fishing bears. Not in the Bella Coola River, which is thick with glacial silt…

…but in its clearer tributaries. Nor were we disappointed.

Salmon on the left: alive. Huge, upside-down salmon in the center: Thank you for your service. RIP.

Our first morning, we drove Up Valley to Tweedsmuir PP, and were promptly rewarded by seeing a pretty black fox (not pictured; I was driving), followed by a mama bear with 2 cubs.

I managed to pull over fast enough to capture Cub #2, following her fam into the forest.

The best bear-viewing spot, that first morning, yielded no bears.

Still a pretty good spot to hang out. No complaints!

But the next morning, as everyone was looking upriver at the most obvious fishing spot, a gravel bank, I happened to glance the other direction and spotted this fella, soundlessly swimming from OUR side of the river.

I repeat: he was on OUR side. Just behind us.

We all did like this person here, and activated our cameras. Most of what I took were videos–I wanted to capture sound and movement–but I did get a few stills (apologies for my lack of zoom).

Pointy ears; no hump; flat face = Black, not grizzly. Still a big guy!

Actually, during the salmon run, it’s obvious the bears have zero interest in attacking humans. Nice, oily fish are what they crave. What a gift, to be able to sit and watch them move, without feeling like we should be backing away.

We saw one other bear during our 4 days in the valley. But plenty of other wonders too, especially when we signed up for a boat tour…which also, surprise! solved the mystery of my friend’s great-grampa’s missing grave.

Our boat captain was full of history, with photos. Turns out the Norwegian families who arrived in the late 1800s built their settlement at the north end of the inlet…I’m guessing to get as far away as possible from the Nuxalk People who lived there.

See the old settlement? Nope. Because it’s gone.

Joke was on the white folks. In 1936, about 40 years after building their settlement, the Norwegians saw the whole place flooded away and destroyed by a king tide. All they could save was their church, which they pushed with canoes over to the road, then carried Up Valley…where it sits today.

No longer Lutheran, and no cemetery, but this was the church I’d been looking at! I was able to share this story with my friend, both of us agreeing her forebear’s bones now rest “full fathom five” in the inlet.

Capt. Daniel also stopped at the site of the Norwegians’ old school, explaining how the kids had to hike along the bluffs above the inlet twice a day to attend.

Far left: site of old school. Far right, not quite in the frame: site of village where kids lived. Yikes.

Capt. Daniel, by the way, had the most awesome First Mate: Buck, the Golden Retriever.

When we arrived at a site, no ramp was lowered: Daniel simply butted the prow against any handy rock…

…and off we clambered. Gingerly.

Our first stop was a hot spring. Have you ever sat in one that didn’t smell like sulphur? We hadn’t. It was MAGNIFICENT.

The big curvy thing above me is a cedar branch.

Here’s the view from Nature’s Best Hot Tub:

Wait. Is that First Mate Buck, asleep on the job?

When we got to the next drop-off site, our guides stayed in their roles: Daniel dropped us off and went fishing; Buck led us to the Big Cedar Tree.

Seriously. Not a guide dog–a dog guide.

Turns out Buck knew the way, all right.

“You’re not even capturing the whole tree in this frame.”

How about this?

Oh, that boat trip. We had waterfalls…

…ancient Nuxhalk pictographs…

That’s supposed to be a person. Telling visitors this land is OCCUPIED, thanks.

…and more glaciers, this time from below.

Before we left the valley, we spent some time in and around the town of Bella Coola itself, where the Nuxhalk culture felt pretty vibrant, at least to us outsiders.

I only wish I could have learned to pronounce that.

A nearby grove of cedars, some ancient, bears the marks of age-old cultural harvesting, both bark…

…and even wood, all without damaging the tree:

The last two days of our trip, the wind shifted and the valley grew smoky. We learned of uncontrolled wildfires to the east; Rt. 20 (The Hill) was closed. When it came time to fly out, this time we stopped in the tiny town of Anahim Lake, and got a good look at the fire-threatened sky for ourselves:

Not pictured: the ash falling from the sky

So after that sobering glimpse of what our planet’s facing, it was doubly gratifying and relieving to see those glaciers from above.

Restraining myself from quoting Robert Frost here…I’ll just say, “Hang in there.”

Next up: More BC! Islands, this time–the littler ones. Thanks for coming along.

Our dog sent us here.

After coming to grips with our sweet Maya’s need for intensive training to ease her reactivity to other dogs, the Mate and I booked her a two-week stay with local dog whisperer Stephanie Vallejo (highly recommended, but get in line: she’s very much in demand!). Then we looked at each other.

“You thinking what I’m thinking? If our dog is already being cared for…”

“…We could…we could GO somewhere!”

And since we’ve been yearning to get back to Vancouver Island ever since last fall’s trip got scrubbed , we jumped at this chance. Then I got COVID, giving me the time I needed to plan a rough itinerary–score!

Washington State Ferries hasn’t resumed its service to Sidney, British Columbia, so we had to take the long way round. Oh darn.

Our first stop was the town of Sooke, just west of Victoria, where most tourists go. We’re not really into cities–particularly very Anglophile cities like Victoria immediately following the death of the Queen. Plus Sooke is known for its glorious rail-trail, the Galloping Goose, which the Mate & I have been eager to try out.

“The Goose” stretches 55 kilometers, much of which is as gorgeous as this part (where I saw a bear the next day). With a few exceptions, it’s perfectly level, and includes fun little additions like…some VERY high trestle bridges…

…mixed forests, and shoreline, like this part fronted by what Canadians call Arbutus, and we call Madrona (or Madrone, in California).

From Sooke we headed back toward Victoria, then followed the main highway north to not-quite-halfway up this INCREDIBLY big island, where we entered its mountainous middle. I was on a mission. I wanted to see bears, and leaping salmon. Maybe even together!

I got my wish. Sorry about the poor zoom quality on my phone.

That bear’s two cubs showed up a moment later, but I took a video of them instead of stills, so you just have to imagine. Were we nervous about the bears being only one river away from our campsite? Well…we would have been, had the ranger not assured us that these particular bears had been coming every evening, checking for fish and leaving, without seeming to care about crossing over.

Good enough for us to sleep well. We happened to know that the fish were just downriver…

…where the BIG falls are, summoning the energy to leap. As with the bears, I took videos of the salmon doing their thing and forgot to take stills. But if you look very closely…

…you can see them massing in the canyon just below the falls. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Several specials. Getting ready for the big push. (But they also have a fish ladder to fall back on, in case they give up after 80 or 90 tries.)

Our next night of camping was on Sproat Lake, where the scenery was nice but not breathtaking. However, following my nose and some truly baffling maps, I stumbled upon one of the most magical waterfall pools I’ve ever encountered.

Did I skinny dip? Are you kidding? Of COURSE.

What’s weird is, I accessed this place via an ugly logging road under a power line, then had to climb down a bluff using a VERY scary rope “ladder”–to find this lil’ piece of Narnia waiting below.

Good job, Vancouver Island–make us work a little for your treasures.

One of our two weeks is now behind us, and The Mate and I are at the end of the world, or what feels like it: the towns of Ucluelet and Tofino, one at each end of a peninsula hanging off the Big Island.

Tofino’s where the kayak photo came from. “But Gretchen,” you may ask, “don’t you already live on an island? Why would you vacation somewhere so similar to your regular ol’ life?”

Could this photo have been taken in the San Juan Islands? Possibly.

But my answer is:

…or THIS: the First Nations village of Opitsat, which our kayak guide told us was the oldest continuously-inhabited settlement in North America, dating back at least 5,000 years (but more likely, he had learned, 10,000). Seeing it gave me goose bumps. (again–apologies for poor zoom lens)

The background snowy peaks of the mountains in Strathcona Provincial Park are just…extra.

And I’ll let Ucluelet speak for itself:

Just a teensy bit wilder than where I live.

One more thing The Mate and I are really enjoying about this part of B.C.: its quirkiness. For example, our rented room is in the lower part of this…structure?