By Dean Nielsen

Day 1

The trip began with our arrival in Prince Rupert. It was a beautiful clear day, and the smell of saltwater filled the air. My father, Rudy Nielsen, and I looked forward with anticipation to what the next day would bring. We drove to the Crest, one of my very favorite hotels, and were given an ocean-side room with a huge bay window that looks out over the harbour. The Crest is an older hotel, built with generous use of wood, brass, marble and leather, all dating back to a grand era of B.C. history. A quick pint of beer on the deck (built high on the bluff some 500 feet above the ocean shore) and then down to Smile's Restaurant for dinner. Smile's is part of the Prince Rupert experience; built cafeteria style, and located right on the commercial docks, this is where the fishermen eat. There's a King crab dinner there, fresh off the boat, and each crab leg is as big as a medium-sized cucumber. It takes a hearty appetite to finish this meal. After dinner it was straight back to the Crest for an early night's rest - the next day our adventure would begin.

Day 2

After an early breakfast we drove down to the local seaplane base. We chartered a Beaver and pilot and loaded our gear (Zodiac, motor, extra fuel, food, tent, and fishing gear) into the cargo hold. After a final check to make sure that we hadn't forgotten anything the pilot slid back the throttle; the plane accelerated into its pounding sprint across Seal Cove and we were airborne. As we nosed our aircraft toward the southwest for our 30-mile flight down to Kitkatla Channel, we could see many of the beautiful heritage homes of Prince Rupert, built along the rocky bluffs of the harbour.

Fishing for Salmon

Half an hour later our plane arrived at Kitkatla Channel, South Porcher Island. We came in low, circling, looking for a new safe place for our pontoons to touch down. We selected a small beach just south of Whitely Point, and even though it was almost two miles north of our intended destination, it was a safer bet that here the water was both calm enough and deep enough to get the plane into shore without trouble. Once down the pilot killed the engine, and as he used a wooden paddle to keep the plane toed into shore (against the changing tide), Dad started pulling our gear out of the cargo hold and piling it on the plane's pontoon's, while I volunteered to carry the gear to shore.

Several minutes later we were waving good-bye to the pilot, after pointing to a spot on the map (20 miles to the north) and asking him to pick us up next week. I always love the feeling I get as I watch a plane fade away into the horizon. Soon the noise of the engine dies, and all that remains are the sounds of the sea and the wind. We quickly assembled our inflatable boat, loaded our gear, and headed south for our privately owned, 109-acre island, located in Kitkatla Channel. Once we arrived at the island we beached our Zodiac next to an old, weathered piling sticking out from the sand. We made a quick tour of the island and found an old homesite where homesteaders had earned a living from the sea, some 80 years before. After a good day's work we decided to set up camp and start looking for dinner. The beaches were full of mussels - but what we wanted was fresh crab for dinner.

It took about half-an-hour to catch four large dungeness crabs. Dad boiled them over the file along with a few tins of vegetables. That night, as we sat on a clean sandy beach, with our giant cedar trees towering over us, the sun setting on the horizon and waves rolling into shore, we ate fresh crab, dipped in seafood sauce and melted butter, and we drank white Mouton Cadet wine, perfectly chilled in a nearby, crystal-clear creek.

Day 3

On to the next property. Leaving just after breakfast we started an eight-mile run up Kitkatla Channel to the second property of our tour - a 120-acre parcel located on the west shore of Dries Inlet. That morning, as our boat skimmed along the calm ocean surface of the channel, we could see remote beaches and sandy shores, untouched coastal mountains and old growth, virgin forest. No houses, no roads, no logging. Just pristine, untouched wilderness.

Day 4

Day four was to be our big run up to the north end of the island. People warned us that a boat our size should be using the inside channel, and should travel during the early morning hours when the seas are calmer. But since the third property that we own on Porcher Island lies on the western side of the island, and we wanted to include it in our tour, we ignored the advice and headed out with our marine chart and compass to hit the open Hecate Straight.

Away we went, all of our gear firmly tied down and covered with tarps, back down Kitkatla Channel, through the Wilcox group of islands, through the very narrow Freeman passage, and out to the open ocean. We soon realized that it would be necessary to stay quite a distance out from shore, so as not to get hung up in the huge, off-shore kelp beds. At one mile out, the waves became so big that we could not see land anymore. Our Zodiac dipped crazily between the fifteen-foot waves surrounding us, and at times the tide was so strong that we barely moved forwards, even with our 30-horse motor under full power. It took us several hours to travel 10 miles up the coastline to where our next property was.

Once at Oval Point we headed right to shore to see our property. The waves were breaking all around us as we ran straight toward the beach, and the time we landed on the sand our boat was full of water, and our clothes were soaked from the waves breaking over us. Oval Point is a very rugged and beautiful piece of coastline. The beaches are long, wide and sandy, with big white breakers rolling in. The coastal trees grow beautifully deformed from the constant wind coming in off the Pacific, and there is a group of rocks just offshore from Oval Point that is usually covered with seals basking in the sun.

Dad and I built a big fire out of driftwood to dry our clothes, and two hours later, after a quick cheese and bread lunch, and a cup of tea, we began to plan the next phase of our journey. Since our trip in through the big surf had ended with out getting a boat full of water, we thought that getting back out would be an even trickier feat. We loaded our gear back into the boat, and then perched it on the edge of a steep sandbank. Then we waited for the tide to come in. When the water got high enough, we pushed our boat off the bank, jumped in and hit the motor, all in one fluid motion. We hit the surf with our motor running and were able to get back out to the open ocean.

After continuing north for another 10 miles we finally hit the protected waters of Welcome Harbor. We then pushed east three more miles and reached our property on Eyde Passage by early nightfall. After an exhausting day like this it was all we could do to stir up a quick instant dinner, set up the camp, and fall asleep.

Camping on Porcher Island

Day 5

Day five started out on our Eyde Passage property. It is very difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced a northern rainforest just how beautiful it can be. The best explanation that I have ever come up with is this: I have been involved in the rural land business with my father since before I could drive a car. Over the years I have seen literally thousands of remote properties. I have had hundreds of exotic fly-in trips, and, unfortunately, I have become a little spoiled.

Most places that I now go to, even though I still love being there, just don't awe me with natural beauty anymore. North Porcher Island is the exception. That morning I started out by going for a quick hike around the property, and ended up just sitting on a log for an hour. I was in total awe of the beauty that I was seeing. The trees were so big that three men couldn't touch hands around them. The moss was so deep it was up to my knees as I walked in it. For as far as I could see there was almost no underbrush - it was like a park.

Looking up, the first limbs of the giant trees started some 50 feet above my head, with huge sheets of moss hanging from the limbs. Through the trees I could see the white sandy beach and gently rolling waves crashing into the shore. A small creek came down from the hills, and there were schools of salmon swimming in and out of the creek mouth, getting ready for their final run up to spawn. We spent that day just exploring the property. We walked along the beach, we walked through the giant, old growth rainforest, and we sat around and drank tea. Incredible!

Day 6

Day six was our last day. We left our camp set up on the edge of Eyde Passage and went out to do some Coho fishing. I don't pretend to be a salmon-fishing expert. I have spent most of my life fishing and boating interior lakes and rivers, and the ocean is still a relatively new experience for me. We had bought along a book showing us how to tie a herring plug and how to fish for Coho. That morning we just followed the directions and took each step as it came.

My father and I spent a week in the wilderness, living like kings right off the seas, without seeing so much as a single sign of mankind for most of the trip. Sitting back on the deck of the Crest that nigh, sipping a cold pint of beer and watching the ships go by, I wondered why so many people in B.C. fly all over the world for their holidays - when one of the most exotic and beautiful places in the world is right in their own backyard.