A "Huh?" Moment on Nootka Island

Wilderness travel doesn't give many opportunities for these moments.Life is simplified. There is some truth to the axiom that it affords a respite from the peripheral noises and the real or imagined conveniences of life. A much simpler equation is at work: food + shelter + fire = comfort & survival. It is what draws me to wilderness travel. So what happened on Nootka Island was totally in the "Huh?" camp.

Nootka Island is on the west coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Abutting the Pacific Ocean, it presented a scenically undisturbed coastal hike that our company hoped to develop. A rich First Nations and European history help complement the scenic grandeur. Spanish and English interests competed for the riches of the area, with the English finally gaining control in the late 1790s. Nootka Sound, which protected mariners from the extreme coastal storms, offered shelter to none other than Captain Cook on his last voyage. He spent a month refitting his vessels before moving on and meeting his death in the Hawaiian Islands. Before leaving the area, he named a sheltered cove, Friendly Cove, in recognition of the helpfulness and friendliness of the local inhabitants.

To this setting, I and another guide led a group of hikers in the early 1990s. We had to fly into a sheltered bay at the north end of the island, and then hike six days southward, along the coast and rain forest, to our end at Friendly Cove. There was no way of communicating with us, although we could send for help with a marine radio in the event we got into some trouble. We arrived at Friendly Cove on schedule. We had made an earlier arrangement to be picked up by water taxi to return us to mainland Vancouver Island and our transportation home.

Friendly Cove was the main home of the Mowachaht people until their relocation to the mainland. One family remained in a house in the sheltered cove. Besides earning an existence for themselves, they acted as the guardians of the Mowachaht ancestral home.

We walked out onto a long wharf in Friendly Cove to await the arrival of our water taxi. It was a glorious day. The warmth of the sun, the sound of the surf, and our memories of the coastal hike helped soothe our tired muscles as we stretched out to absorb it all. This was interrupted with what sounded like a human voice. We sat up from our rest and looked about. Someone noticed a distant figure from the house, with hands cupped to their mouth, yelling something. The house was some 200 yards from us. We strained to hear what she was yelling. Finally someone believed she was saying - "Telephone for Len Webster"! Huh?

Telephone? Len Webster? Made no sense. Who knew that I would be there other than the office? How would they have reached these people as they wouldn't have known it existed? A telephone here? I was mystified! I sent my assistant back to the house to clear this up. I was confident we misheard.

She returned. She announced that indeed it was for me - the call. But how? Who? It was the water taxi who radioed ahead and asked that the residents to tell me that he would be a little late arriving, but to hold on, as he would be there shortly.

And that, was my "Huh?" moment.