Woman on the water
It was July 2023 and my 61st birthday was a month away. I had been dreaming of stand-up paddleboarding (SUPing) around Cape Scott ever since I visited the area on an extended camping road trip. I’d spent the past couple years getting ready, with hours of training on the ocean, testing myself in all conditions.
I’d started standup paddleboarding about a decade before and loved the simplicity and ease of it. And, as a lifelong thalassophile (ocean lover), I’d been fishing and sailing on big water for most of my life. But paddling a SUP around the northern tip of Vancouver Island is a challenge—and doing it alone is even more unusual. The last thing I wanted was to have to be rescued; I needed to be fully prepared.
Then, one day in 2023, I completed a 46-km trip around Valdes Island that included launching in the dark and navigating two notoriously tricky passes. There was little room for error; correct planning and timing were crucial. When I finished that ten-hour paddle—my longest ever—I threw my arms up in the air and yelled, “I’ve got this!” I felt so empowered.
I knew then my dream could become a reality. It was now time to find the weather window. July 7, 2023, was the day everything seemed to line up. Mother Nature herself stood behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, whispering, “It’s time.”
Nervous and excited, I drove to the north end of Vancouver Island. I went straight to the Coast Guard in Port Hardy, left them my trip plan, and proceeded to the waterfront to check out the shoreline. I slept in my truck so I could get an early start and avoid any challenging winds that might come up later in the day.
Day 1 / 51 km paddle / 10 hours
Port Hardy to Nahwitti River campsite
At 5 a.m. I was paddling along Goletas Channel on the inside of Duval Island, through fog and morning light, seeing bears, loads of sea life, and gorgeous coastline. After about seven hours, I passed Shushartie Bay, a possible first-night camping option, but I felt strong and decided to carry on. As soon as I got around Jepther Point, I found myself surrounded by turbulent, boiling waters with a two-metre swell. I was at Tatnall Reefs—and I had missed the optimal tide. For at least 45 minutes, I paddled as hard as I could, trying to reach the pebbly shoreline, and finally made it. (Barely.) I walked with all my gear to the Nahwitti River campground and found an amazing site beside huge old-growth spruce trees, amid rugged West Coast beauty. I felt blessed.
Day 2 / Rest day
The night was filled with thunder and lightning. I tossed and turned, waking at 4 a.m., after a few hours’ sleep, to thick fog. I was comfortable here, hugged by the old growth while I enjoyed a wonderful cup of coffee. I could feel the pulse of the ocean, rounding the edges of pebbles on the shore. I decided to take a rest day. I had ten days’ worth of food and adequate water with me. I wanted to think through how I could launch successfully in the surf. I moved a heavy log into place, tied one end of the board to the log, and threw my three-pound anchor into the water. This stern tie would allow me to load my gear onto the board in the ocean, not on the shore, tomorrow morning. Just as I finished these preparations, a big eagle came by and let go all over my tent. This must be a sign!
Day 3 / 51 km paddle / 10 hours
Nahwitti River Campsite to Guise Bay—Rounding Cape Scott
When I woke at 4 a.m., a round clearing in the fog allowed me to see Cape Sutil approximately three kilometres from my tent, like a gift I couldn’t refuse. I quickly packed up. My stern tie launch was a success. I rounded Cape Sutil—the northernmost point on Vancouver Island—and encountered another two-metre swell as I headed into the unprotected West Coast waters. White waves crashed onto the photogenic coastline; above me were crystal-clear skies. I realized I had to paddle at least a kilometre offshore to avoid any backwash and the possibility of hitting unseen rocks.
I felt calm, but my senses were on full alert. Otters, dolphins, sea lions, and seals greeted me; two whales met me just past Cape Sutil and kept me company for many kilometres.
I could see pullout options on stunning beaches as I drew closer to the cape. After paddling almost 40 kilometres that day, I was approaching Cape Scott, which I had expected would be one of the most challenging parts of my trip. If I felt the weather or wind was changing unfavourably, this was the time and place to stop.
But although the swell was still big (about two metres), the tide and current were with me, and there was no wind. This was a perfect scenario: I felt confident to continue. I was now at the point of no return! I stayed close to shore, but far enough to avoid rocky outcrops. As I rounded the Cape, I was jubilant. It wasn’t far to beautiful Guise Bay, where I was welcomed by a gorgeous white-sand beach and aqua-blue water. As soon as I landed, I set up camp, took off all my clothes, and dove in to celebrate. What an incredible feeling.
Day 4 / 28 km paddle / 6 hours
Guise Bay to Raft Cove
Another great 5 a.m. launch; perfect conditions. But the stretch from Guise Bay to Cape Russell is long, with no pullouts and plenty of jagged rocks. And it’s wide open to the Pacific Ocean—no forgiveness here. The swell was big; I was on high alert. After I rounded Cape Russell and crossed the mouth of San Josef Bay, the large swell kept me in and out of sight of land, and quite far offshore, until Cape Palmerston Beach. All along this rugged coastline are tortured forests with trees twisted into unbelievable shapes, showing just how rough it gets out here.
The wind came up in the early afternoon, as predicted, and I arrived into Raft Cove with a crash surf landing—ta da! Another epic, fantastic, amazing day of sunshine, sea life, and ocean swells.
Day 5 / 30 km paddle / 7 hours
Raft Cove to Winter Harbour
I left Raft Cove with an effortless launch at 7 a.m. and made great time, even with the big, rolling swell—Mother Nature was on my side today! There were lots of people on fishing boats cheering me on and/or telling me I was crazy. At around 2 p.m., I arrived at the Winter Harbour Marina, where a cold beer, hot shower, and the most welcoming folks I could have asked for awaited me. The perfect end to my epic solo journey!
What I learned
A trip of this magnitude—like many challenges in life—requires courage, passion, perseverance, and the ability to stay positive. Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire, and don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t do something.
