The next leg of our voyage would be south from Haida Gwaii, and down the west coast of Vancouver Island. Through sport-fishing crazed communities like Shearwater, Port Hardy, Winter Harbour, Walters Cove, and Bamfield. When you pass a stranger on the docks in these places, the smalltalk runs something like this:

“Hey how’s it going?”

“Good thanks, you catchin’ lots of fish?”

“Yup, hundreds. You goin’ fishin’ soon?”

“Yup, I’m actually fishin’ right now.”

“Me too!”

Or so I imagine. It goes a little differently for us. People always ask us if we’re catching lots of fish, and every time we reply, “No… we haven’t caught any fish.”

The stranger’s eyes fill with amusement. What a hilarious response! No fish!? Unimaginable! Amusement turns to confusion as it becomes clear that we’re not joking. Maybe at this point the person is mouthing the words “no… fish…”, trying to make sense of the situation, and glancing at our kids with concern.

On 4 separate occasions these strangers have then given us one of their own fish. Three salmon and one halibut. When we protest this generosity it draws more bewildered amusement. You know that we just pull these things out of the ocean right? Then they might proceed to give us some fishing tips. Advice about boat speed, depth, and location, really emphasizing that the lure must be placed in the ocean. The OCEAN. Because clearly we are missing some fundamentals.

As we worked our way south down the coast we consoled our fish-less selves with some beautiful beach days, wildlife sightings, and exploration. We spend a lot of time in these areas contemplating the human history of the coast. There are First Nations middens absolutely everywhere. It’s difficult to grasp the scale of habitation that existed here before Europeans, especially considering what little signs remain. The forest reclaims everything on land, but the middens still tell a story. Then came the early industrial phase where fishing and logging were much more manual than they are today. Again the coast was teeming with activity and communities. It’s odd to think that today, at the height of human population, many of these areas are emptier of people now than they’ve been for thousands of years.

We started to see the sun a bit more often during this time and even met up with some friends from home! These encounters would be some of the highlights of the summer, which makes one wonder: If we like our friends from home so much, why are we leaving?

Barkley Sound between Ucluelet and Bamfield would be our last stop before leaving Canadian waters. Our last chance for fishing redemption. At Robinson island, I tried to rally my kids for one last fishing expedition. “Fish wake up very early,” I explained, gesturing towards the battle plans drawn up on the whiteboard, “We will depart at first light, 6am, and we cannot fail!”

“Nope.”

“We will depart at 7am! Failure is unlikely!”

“No way.”

“We will depart at 7:30? After all the good fish have already been caught?”

Nyah agreed to join me as long as I packed lots of snacks and she didn’t have to get out of her pyjamas. Along with incompetence, we’ve just never really exhibited a strong commitment to fishing.

The next morning we departed at the crack of 7:30. We kept fishing until the snacks ran out, ready to return home empty handed, when our rod started twitching and buzzing. A fish! We reeled in a salmon! The drought was broken! Quick, let’s get to a dock so we can engage in some small talk!

We also had some bad news in this period. My mom fell and cracked a vertebrae, she would need to wear a neck brace for several months and be mostly immobilized through summer. Scary and a real bummer. A few days after that my Grandpa, Jim Read, passed away at age 90.

The lows with the highs. This is an aspect of travel that is no fun. You might not be able to support family or friends at home in times of hardship.

With mixed emotions we set our sights on the USA.