Heli-Fishing in the Great Bear Rainforest

Text and photos by Mary L. Peachin

Oct – Nov 2009, Vol. 14. No. 2

Hey, grizzly! Grabbing his bear spray, fly fishing guide Logan Wilkins shouted, “Patricia, start walking slowly down the beach…now!” Resting against a fallen tree trunk at the beach’s edge, river riffles muffled Logan’s words. Pat’s view of the grizzly standing on the log peering at us from its sanctuary in the rainforest was blocked by the immense tree. Oblivious to any danger, Pat instinctively responded by crouching slowly up the beach toward the river. The bear reacted to Logan’s command by retreating into the forest.

Wading in the Khutz River for pink salmon (known as humpies because of their rounded back), when I saw Logan with bear spray in hand, I immediately, without lip reading, got the message. Although my thighs continued to quiver after the incident, I stood rotely fishing in the River. The encounter had lasted only minutes.

After all, we were casting into the bears’ fishing hole, one they use each fall to bulk up before winter hibernation by feasting on migrating salmon. Just minutes before, two grizzlies had ambled along the beach toward us. At Logan’s alert, we watched as the bears detoured from their salmon fishing grounds into the brush after spotting us.

While sharing the fishing grounds of grizzlies may have added some excitement, fly fishing the Khutz was more than just another great fishing experience. We enjoyed one of those rare days in the Great Bear Rainforest when the sun was shining, the cold water of the river crystal clear, and the temperature an unusual high of 70 degrees. As I shed my long underwear, I wondered if the grizzlies might be hunkering down in the alders to avoid the heat of the day before emerging when the temperature began to drop. Throughout the day, we had, somewhat nervously, scanned the beach and hillsides without a bear sighting. But, we knew they were there. Enormous paw prints and scat littered the River’s edge.

After helicopter pilot Chad Friesen lifted off King Pacific’s Lodge dock, the thirty minute flight took us skimming over rugged peaks topped with glacial lakes then swooshing through narrow valleys, Pat Werner, her husband Bill and I talked through our headset intercom of our anticipation of a day of heli-fishing, and the probability of seeing grizzlies, a species not found on Princess Royale Island, the location of the lodge. While black bear and the rare white spirit Kermode, a recessive gene black bear are frequent sightings during Lodge adventures, the grizzly is known to only inhabit the mainland of British Columbia.

The Bell 206 Jet Ranger set down on the beach next to the Khutz River, Tsimshian for “long inlet in a steep valley,” located on British Columbia’s mainland. Without shutting off his engine, Friesen lifted off as we turned our backs to a backwash of flying sand. We had arranged a pick up for mid-afternoon. The four of us were now totally alone in the wilderness of the Great Bear Rainforest.

That wonderful “mood of the mountain” offered fog banked crevices with steam rising from wet sandy areas on the beach. Closer to the river, the cobblestone beach was covered with rocks and boulders of various sizes. The River’s crystal green and blue glacial water provided great visibility of numerous schools of pink salmon migrating upriver to spawn.

Spawning salmon, including pink, chum, and Coho, the latter who hang in the deeper, more protected water eddies of the Khutz, stop feeding when they enter a river system from the Pacific. Focused on surviving until they spawn, they become very “territorial.” A colorful pink showgirl streamer pisses them off, and they strike furiously whenever a fly is presented.

Once salmon enter a river, their bodies soften, scar and begin to deteriorate, the jaw of the male becomes hooked. Even better tasting salmon, like Chinook and Coho, are released to complete their spawning, die, and enter the food chain, primarily as the prey of bear, wolf, and eagles and gulls.

>The water’s clarity and the sunny day made it easy to spot schools of fish making this final upstream struggle. The gentle flow of the water and a sandy bottom made the wading easy. The fish seemed oblivious to our presence or the quality of fly presentation. While casting in those conditions might be easy, the catching was another story. The fish averaged about six to ten pounds, and with an eight weight rod, they put up a decent fight. The challenge was one of not snagging a fish that might take awhile while running in circles around your legs. It was cast, hook up, fight, and release…one fish after another, all day long. That is the reason Pat took a break next to the log. We were all suffering from bicep overheat.

After three hours of fighting fish, Logan’s suggested that we stop to “pecker” or take a break to enjoy a picnic lunch. Retrieving our food, cached in a tree, we munched hungrily as we pondered paw prints in the sand.

Long before we could see it, the echo of the helicopter’s rotor bounced off cliff walls. The day had passed all too quickly. How rare are those days when everything is perfect including the weather, fishing, plus the added excitement of grizzly bear encounters?

QUALL RIVER

During another fall spawning season, Pilot Paul Tosczak skimmed the bright red Bell 260 helicopter just above the treetops into the Quall River inlet so we could search the crystal clear water for pink salmon. Spotting a school making their way upstream, Paul hovered then lowered the four-passenger helicopter gently into a green meadow filled with colorful summer flowers.

Hopping out with the rotor still spinning, Guide Wayne Boles assembled two 8-weight fly rods with pink showgirls, a feathery fly that resembles a leech when soaked in the current. Fellow angler, photographer Carl Duncan and I walked the short distance from the meadow to wade into the river.

“These fish aren’t interested in feeding. They are on a mission!” Wayne continued, “They’ll go for that flash of pink on the fly whenever it is placed in front of them.” Sure enough, on the first cast I hooked into a six pounder, sea lice still attached to its tail. “This fish just entered the river from its ocean journey, lice don’t live long in fresh water.”

The clear water of the Quall enabled me to watch the salmon and brightness of the fly zip through the water. As I waded waist deep along the river’s sandy bottom, as the salmon swam in circles around my feet, I followed them with the tip of the rod.

A thunderous sound echoed off the canyon wall. I wondered if a storm could interrupt this glorious sunny day. “Oh, no” Wayne explained, “That’s just another avalanche caused by melting snow on the higher peaks of the Coastal range.

As we continued to hook into fish, Wayne noticed clumps of grass floating in the current. “There is a bear upstream.” Having listened to his bear safety lecture (give them their space and back up), I queried as to whether he had brought a gun. “No, this time of year they are interested in berries, but as more salmon enter the stream, this place will be loaded with bear.”

Nearby, we could hear an owl hooting above the ripple of the current. When we had fished out the pool, Wayne suggested we move on. Thinking we would be wading upstream, Wayne pointed me toward the helicopter, and once again we lifted off. After passing over the bear grazing upstream, we again began our aerial scouting.

The day went quickly and as the sun began to drop behind the snow-capped peaks, our departure was expedited when Carl and Paul spotted a black bear headed our way. We gave him his fishing hole and headed back to the lodge.

On the return flight, Wayne pointed out lakes they drop into to fish for trout. The isolation of Lowe and Klewnuggett lakes make them only accessible by helicopter. With no competition from other anglers, they yield countless releases of native cutthroat and rainbow.

The scenic 15 to 30 minute flight passed over breathless fiords and inlets. After a day of heli-fishing, it’s hard to imagine wading side by side with other anglers try to hook angler-savvy fish. This is the ultimate fly fishing experience.

GREAT BEAR RAINFOREST

Twice the size of Yellowstone National Park, the Great Bear Rainforest encompasses 4.4 million acres. Covering almost two-thirds or 250 miles of British Columbia’s central coastline, the isolated temperate Rainforest is accessible only by float plane or boat. Noted for its 1,000 year old 300 foot red cedar, western hemlock, Douglas fir and 100 foot Sitka spruce, the 25,000 square mile forest has more than 2,500 salmon runs, fish who returned to the rivers of their birth. It is also habitat for the Pacific’s southernmost coastal grizzly population. The unique salmon, bear, and forest ecosystem sustain its healthy environment.

The Great Bear Rainforest, one of the largest unspoiled temperate rainforests, was established in February 2006 by an agreement between British Columbia’s provincial government and a coalition of conservationists, loggers, hunters, and First Nations people. The agreement ensured a plan of protection and forest management.

Home to hundreds of species, including cougars, wolves, grizzlies, black, and Kermode spirit bears, the Great Bear Rainforest’s biological abundance is the result of 10,000 years of evolution dating back to a time when glaciers of the Pleistocene Epoch melted. The proximity of the ocean to the mountains provides a warm offshore flow creating an abundance of precipitation over mountain ranges, a phenomenon that creates its lush forest.

From the northern coast of Vancouver Island to the Alaskan border, the Great Bear Rainforest is the ancestral home of nearly a dozen First Nations bands. Approximately 30,000 people live in small village or reserves, and as guardians of the land, they care and live on its abundance.

KING PACIFIC LODGE

Climbing out of a ten passenger amphibious Grumman Goose, which had departed the runway of British Columbia’s village of Bella Bella to land in the waters of Barnard Harbour, King Pacific Lodge’s departing guests, their baggage waiting dockside, told us “we jealous, you’re arriving and we’re leaving.” What a nice welcoming feeling.

Deep in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest, the luxury Rosewood Resort is anchored to the bank of Princess Royal Island. A massive two story stone fireplace divides a cozy reception area and bar lounge from the dining room. Adjacent is a video and game room, a spa with hot tub and an exercise room. Natural slate floors lead to a dry room where guests are provided red Mustang survival suits and a pair of rubber boots. The outside porch, complete with rocking chairs, overlooks a surrounding dock of glorious westerly mountain views.

Upstairs, 17 suite-size rooms feature king-size duvet-covered beds. Wall to wall windows offer views of the Harbour or rainforest. Bathrooms have a glassed rainfall shower plus a large soaker tub. The basket of amenities even includes a knobby roller for sore fishing muscles. It is hard to imagine this level of luxury in a floating lodge.

King Pacific Lodge offers interpretive hikes among thousand year old hemlocks, ocean kayaking through fiords and inlets where Dungeness crabs scurry sideways over the rocky bottom. There is bear viewing for black and the rare indigenous Kermode “white spirit” black bear. Guided fishing includes halibut and all species of salmon, Chinook or spring, Coho or silver, pink (humpies) and chum, or ocean fly fishing. And this is just King Pacific Lodge’s “amuse bouche” of activity and adventure. Culture lovers might want to visit the First Nations village of Hartley Bay (Gitga’ata).

At every meal, the adventure director checks your schedule choice for morning, afternoon, or daylong excursions. It can be as simple as a Swedish massage, admiring bald eagles perched on tree top snags, listening to the distinctive cry of the loon echoed across the water, or bushwhacking up a rugged mountain peak. A day might be spent viewing humpbacks breech or stellar sea lions bark. All are inclusive with the exception of heli-fishing or any glacial or other exploration of the Great Bear Rainforest by helicopter.

General Manager Robert Penman ensures that every meal is a gourmet adventure. Between servings of smoked scallops and fresh salmon, there might be the option of seeing a whale blow or river otter nurse pups behind the lodge. Other than nature, the only semblance of civilization is the occasional cruise ship plying Campania Sound on its way up the Inside Passage to Alaska.

Intoxicated by the experience of a world class adventure, as the next guest arrival float plane glides to the dock on your itinerary of three, four, or seven days, it’s hard to resist welcoming the incoming guests with the same regret that you are leaving.

King Pacific Lodge, 888. 592.5464, [email protected], www.kingpacificlodge.com

The spectacular 180-degree view of Vancouver’s harbor combines craggy, and frequently snow-capped, peaks of the North Shore Mountains with the greenery of Stanley Park. The sparkling, cosmopolitan and culturally diversified city has been ranked by numerous publications as the top city in the world to visit. As the gateway to the Great Bear Rainforest, it is a city that will require an overnight stay both coming and going. But don’t settle for a short layover. Vancouver cannot be relished in less than three days, and more is better.

Places to Stay

Relais & Chateaux Wedgewood, www.wedgewoodhotel.com

Fairmont Waterfront, Fairmont Vancouver, Fairmont Airport, www.fairmont.com

Opus Hotel, www.opushotel.com

Metropolitan Hotel, www.metropolitan.com

Coming Soon: Ritz-Carlton, www.ritzcarlton.com, Shangri-La, www.shangri-la.com, Fairmont Pacific Rim, www.fairmont.com

Where to Dine

West, www.westrestaurant.com

Vij’s, www.vijs.ca

Bishop’s, www.bishopsonline.com

Imperial Chinese Seafood Restaurant, www.imperialrest.com

Blue Water Café and Raw Bar, www.bluewatercafe.net