These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update: September 15, 2000

9:57 PAMPLONA CAF…, TOFINO, B.C.

Ouch. I'm sore. Ate too much sugar yesterday and slept in the van last night. Ouch.

Tofino is kind of happening, but more on that later. I'm in a cafÈ on the grounds of the Botanical Gardens, and it feels like a cold version of Brock Little's house, or the North Shore of Kauai. This part of the coast gets a lot of rain, and it is lush. I'm having a cup of coffee, listening to some Brazilian jazz while the owner (apparently) of the place talks bidness with a Kiwi girl.

So you might ask yourself. "How did he get there?"

Yesterday was a Goldilocks and the Three Bears Day. And by that I mean: Too hard, too soft, just right.

The road from Port Renfrew to Lake Conchita or Conichiwa or whatever was a little too hard. Gravel logging roads, not exactly sure where I was going even though I had a good map that showed all the logging roads, or how far it was to civilization. Big logging trucks blazing past, always a threat of a broken windshield, along with the threat of a flat tire and a big pain in the back.

It was about 50 K's of gravel driving, mostly in the trees with the occasional nice creek underneath. Not many fish, but the creeks seem to be in pretty good shape.

Got to Lake Conwichan or something like that, where it was very hot. Bought a Canadian fishing license and pushed on to who knows where.

Highway 14, on the east side of Vancouver Island, is about as thrilling as Highway 101 between Tiburon and Santa Rosa. Strip malls, transmission repair, yuck. It looked pretty much like America, except that Canada has road signs pointing out local artisans for some reason: potter, sculptor, etc. A little different.

Passed through Ladysmith, birthplace of Pam Andersen, and Nanaimo, where I looked for an internet cafÈ, and found one on the outskirts.

It was all kind of hot and boring and depressing and 101-ish, until I turned off for Port Alberni. Vancouver is like Norway. Just when you least expect it, you bump into the ocean, or some other body of water that could be ocean, could be a lake, could be a river, it's hard to know. There were docks and fishing boats in Port Alberni, so it must be ocean, and also a river called the Somass, with some big fish splashing around.

The drive out to the west coast and Uclulet got better and better. The road ran along the Taylor River which looked pretty juicy, then ran through the Mackenzie Range, some impressively tall mountains, with clouds and sunlight breaking off the top. The weather started getting rough along the way. The wind kicked up and it started raining.

The road ran along the Kennedy River, which was even juicier than the Taylor River. The river ran along the bottom of a deep valley, with small creeks running into it every couple of miles.

I stopped at one granitey hole and flailed a bit, just to do it. The river looked like the Eel (the Russian?) along 101, but I didn't yet have that feeling of hopelessness you feel driving along the 101 River: Nice river, but there's no way there are any fish in there.

With the rivers up here (I hope) there is a chance of there being some fish, because they all make a short run to the ocean, and there could always be silver salmon or cohos or steelhead or sea-run cut-throat making their way up or down. As far as I know, anyway. I haven't given up yet.

The Kennedy River turned into Kennedy Lake and then that turned into. Norway. All of the west coast of Vancouver Island is cut by "sounds" and it all looks exactly like Norway. Which is to say, it looks good. Spectacular, even. There's a scenic vista around every corner. There were a lot of scenic vistas leading into the town of Uculet. This is one of two places accessible by main roads on the west coast of Vancouver, and it has been developed nicely. Extravagantly, even. There is a lot of money and tourism on this side. Dozens of hotels and bed and breakfasts, but all of it mostly hidden away in the trees.

Cruised around Uculet for awhile, looking for surf. Couldn't really see the beach, so I drove on to Tofino. I remember some people from Tofino coming through SURFER way back when, and I'd heard a few things about the place.

The end of Tofino is a harbor with access to Something or Other Sound. Again it looked like Norway: big mountains overlooking a fjord-like substance. There are whale watching tours and kayaking tours and airplane tours and all kinds of tours and a lot of sheeshy shops and cafes and all that. It's probably a hellish place to be in the summer, but in the second week of September, in the rain, it's not so hard to get around. Couldn't get a table at one restaurant last night, but I did get a camping space: $27 for a night. This place is popular.

Oh goody. The owner of the Pamplona CafÈ just let me jack into his wall outlet.

That's about it for now. Vancouver Island went from harsh and dusty to yucky and sticky to cold and spectacular, all in the same day. Slept in the van last night. Watched Three Kings and Tomorrow Never Dies, and didn't sleep well because I had a huge ice cream cone, and sugar is poisonous.

Stormy today so probably no surf. I'm going to poke around a bit, then head back out and make for Port Hardy. Mark Lyon said there's a surf camp out here somewhere.

I'm going to suggest to Peter Otsea that he consider starting a surf camp out at Yakutat, when he moves there. If he isn't getting in anyone's way, that is.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Boat. Big sturdy, comfortable boat like The Oasis with a good crew. You could spend the rest of your life poking around up here, and never get bored. And eat for free.

For now, it's the stinky van. North to Alaska!

Ben