Despite the fact we’re going into our third year on the island, there are still quite a number of things on our “Haida Gwaii to-do” list.  However, I am happy to report that one such item has been completed. It’s a certain drive I’ve always wanted to do.

At the end of North Beach is Rose Spit – a sand bar that juts out towards the North like the cheeky tongue of a little kid. Beyond that is East beach whose shoreline runs along the east side of Graham Island and shares the waters of Hecate Strait with Prince Rupert. You can drive along the beach North, around the spit and over to east beach when the tides permit. It is also strongly advised to travel in groups with at least one person familiar with towing trucks out of wet or sandy situations.

We’re invited to caravan out to a friend’s half built cabin on the far side of east beach. This is our chance. We rendez-vous at 10am, load our truck with odds and ends such as a table top, rubbermaid bins of tools, and a pot full of chili. The air is crispy and nips at my nose, but the sky is bright and the winds are mild – a perfect day for beach exploration. By the time we reach the end of the pavement, about to hit beach – the sun has come out in full fall force and I am regretting not grabbing my sunglasses. We are an convoy of three trucks, one jeep and two people on quad bikes. All loaded up with whatever we can manage to carry out to the cabin – including a 5 foot window vertically fastened in the back of a pickup.

There is something exhilarating about driving down a beach. With lil g happily entertained in the back, we follow the pack between wet packed sand, to “side roads” with names like Carpenter’s Lane. These are one track paths lined with spruce, hemlock and the odd stunted cedar. After 3o minutes or so, we come to a juncture where the spit juts out to our left and east beach to the right. We turn right and are greeted by fields of beach grass, glistening in the sun as if spun gold. There is a collective sigh as we bounce through the field, captured in its light.

Our first challenge, is how to re-connect with the beach and we begin building bridges of driftwood over soft sand, until our friends on quads rescue us with news that an easier route lies just ahead. Next up, a sinking truck (not ours). With the rising tide lapping at its tires, our skilled friends rig up the ropes and rescue the truck just in time (but as if it was no big deal). The cabin is (wisely) tucked away from the shore so we pull up and “park” next to a sea of washed up driftwood, over which we walk – carrying supplies – the cabin. From there a meandering trail takes us through battered trees to the half built home.

We spend the afternoon eating chili by an outdoor fire, hoisting the new window into place, and enjoying the rugged calm that can only exist in places this remote. Changing tides signal a prompt departure and we’re back on the “beach-way” again. The day has been spectacular. I feel like a modern day pioneer, exploring untouched and dangerous landscapes, where ingenuity and hardiness are key to survival.  I vow to return, although never to do this trip by myself, for I (or at least the truck) would surely perish.

 

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