It was September of 2012 when I received a message from my good friend Chris: Was I interested in joining him and a group of friends to do some canyoneeering on Vancouver Island? First, a brief explanation, of sorts, for those of you who have never heard of canyoneering. It’s a sport in which you don a wetsuit and dry pack and make your way down a creek canyon as best you can, hopefully to emerge in one piece. I kid, really. Actually, it is generally a very safe pursuit when you consider that you make use of a plethora of mountaineering gear, if needed, and take all the necessary precautions.It didn’t take me long to answer in the affirmative. Chris had been telling me canyoneering tales for years and I’d been intrigued for quite some time. His description of the Looper Creek Canyon’s beautiful polished rock and verdant limestone gorge sounded fantastic to me, and so, more plans were made.
Since Chris was on a tour of some Pacific Northwest canyons and already on Vancouver Island, I’d be taking the ferry over to Nanaimo to meet him in Departure Bay. Riding the boat with me was Vlad, a long time climbing partner of Chris whom I’d only had the chance to meet briefly before. Also in on the trip were Kevin and Francois, aka Fix, who were also on “The Island” and had been descending some other canyons there. It looked to be another warm and sunny day!
As the ferry steamed toward Nanaimo, Vlad and I sat out on the upper deck enjoying the scenery and sharing hiking stories. Soon the boat was docking, and we met Kevin and Fix on the other side. They were still recovering from the previous day’s adventures, but other than lack of sleep, they were none the worse for wear. I had known Kevin from sites online for years, so it seemed, strangely, as though we had already met. Fix, who was entirely new to me, was a real canyon enthusiast with a strong interest in photography and filming.
But, where was Chris? He’d left his transplanted home in Utah some days ago and as far as I knew had last been somewhere in Washington state. In another fifteen minutes, his well used Jeep Cherokee rolled into the parking lot, and Vlad and I jumped in for the ride. With Fix and Kevin following in Kevin’s Jeep, we all set out for Lake Cowichan. “Don’t mind the dust, chips, the box of blueberries and whatever else you find.” Chris warned, jokingly. “Just move whatever so you can sit down!” Many shenanigans were shared along the way; this was to be the sixth canyon in six days for Chris, one of his busiest weeks ever.
We stopped in Lake Cowichan to fuel up, and then hit the logging roads for at least another fifty kilometres. Finally, Chris pulled over abruptly at an inconspicuous looking bridge. We walked over to the bridge and looked down. “Well, that’s the canyon down there,” Chris said. I peered into the deep gorge, but I couldn’t see much of anything in the midday shadows.
Seconds later Kevin and Fix arrived, and the next half hour was taken up with both idle banter and the important task of outfitting everyone with the necessary gear. Then there was an important discussion regarding the possible technical challenges. In canyoneering, teamwork is paramount, because once you’re in the canyon, you’re pretty much committed, and it can often be difficult to reverse your direction. Since this was summer, high water flows were not expected. If we were lucky, the whole trek might be able to be done in wetsuits, and of course the mandatory climbing helmets. Nevertheless, we were prepared for anything!
I had no idea what to expect on this voyage, but since Chris has been one of my best mates for years, at least I’d heard more than a few stories! I may have been the oldest person in the group, but I was also the least experienced. As for the others, Vlad had been in several canyons with Chris, while Kevin and Fix were both seasoned veterans.
Once we had packed up, it was time to make our way up the logging spur near the bridge for about a kilometre and a half, to where we would drop in to the canyon. Being the ever eager rookie, I’d already put on my wetsuit and tied it off at the waist for the walk uphill. The result of that was an uncomfortable stroll in the hot sun, though I was glad to have the leggings on when we bushwhacked down into the gorge.
No sooner had Fix led the way down the steep, brushy slope, than we were all on the banks of Looper Creek. Huge bigleaf maple trees towered above, as the creek flowed quietly. I could tell immediately that this was a special place, quite unlike any I had been before. As a youngster, one of my favourite things to do was to find a creek and explore it, so this seemed like another chapter of my youth, in a sense.
We walked onward through the waters, descending almost imperceptibly, at first. The mood was light and there was no shortage of humour from everyone.
Pretty soon we reached a clearing, with deep emerald pools and a series of small cascades, so it looked as though we’d now be doing some swimming. It was there that everyone else changed into their wetsuits.
I also got a tutorial on how to stash your camera in a dry bag. Kevin and I were using waterproof digital cameras, whereas Chris and Fix had digital SLRs. They had ample suggestions about how best to keep your camera safe, but that concept was brand new to me!
We moved on, walking through narrows, hopping on rocks, and swimming through pools. It was just a lot of good clean fun, and there was plenty to see along the way.
Canyoneering is a very unique experience. I found it similar in spirit to exploring forests, my lifelong pursuit. Quite literally, you immerse yourself in your surroundings, so to speak! The canyon walls add to the atmosphere, and enhance the feeling of isolation. It is very different from mountaineering, my other passion, where you may begin in forest but you work your way ever upward into the open terrain of the alpine. Each pursuit has its own enticing qualities, I believe.
There was but one demanding section (as depicted below) near a confluence of huge fallen trees. Chris had thought we might need to break out our harnesses and rappel down to the waters below, but as it turned out, we could circumvent the difficulties by using a simple hand line. For good measure, though, Chris and Kevin took the time to practice setting up some gear, while the rest of us were either taking photos, clowning about, or jumping into pools!
The sun made occasional appearances too, wherever an opportunity presented itself. The canyon was a place of truly phantasmal beauty, and it seemed that everywhere you looked caused the fascination to grow stronger.
There were the walls. Sheer, unyielding, granite, limestone. Sometimes smooth and polished, other times rough, even somewhat sinister, and always enclosing.
Then there were the fallen trees, interlocked to create obtructions, or perfectly placed to aid our path. It rather reminded me a life sized version of the kids game “Kerplunk”, as we manoeuvred our way over, under, down, and around their hulking skeletons. Whenever it seemed we had reached an impasse, nature seemed to provide some avenue of escape.
The vegetation too, was everywhere and conspicuous. Every available space for growth was exploited, wherever possible, and sometimes where improbable.
Last but far from least were the pools. Clear, green, shimmering, sometimes travertine. Some were shallow, others deep. Some you walked, some you swam, others you floated through.
I learned a lot about photography in watery conditions on this trek. Each person had their own way of landing shots, and a system of setting up for the ideal image. Even if you brought a waterproof camera, as I did, you still have to keep water off the lens!
The journey continued down the gorge. Eventually, we arrived at the crux of the trip, a large pool surrounded by rock walls that canyoneers sometimes wryly refer to as a “keeper pothole”. The name derives from the fact that they can sometimes recquire a grappling hook to escape. This one had no such issues, though I scuffled briefly, because for whatever reason, my hands had gone numb.
After a few more laughs and a lot more photographs we moved on again. Just when it seemed the trek might never end, or simply wasn’t meant to, we reached the grand finale.
Suddenly, the creek virtually vanished, its flow now subterranean. Our path bent sharply to the right, then to the left before the water reappeared in a succession of swims that finished in a cavern like chamber beneath the bridge where we had parked; it was high above us, and partially obscured. From the road above one could never have known that the magic, so well hidden from all.
We lingered there as long as we could, reflecting on the day. I later discovered that my friend Karsten had once rappelled off the bridge to the place we now stood admiring. Now that is what I call making an entrance!
We left reluctantly, scouting for the exit trail nearby. It was well rigged with a series of ropes to aid us in our ascent. Apparently, local swimmers must know this place well! In another ten minutes we were at the trucks, sharing the stoke of a truly unique adventure. Amid all the camaraderie, a few beers were drank, thanks to Kevin, and we stowed away all the wet gear for the ensuing ride home.
We then parted company with Fix and Kevin, who were bound for Duke Point, and set out for Departure Bay. The ride back on the ferry featured an epic sunset, a fitting end to a near perfect day!
If ever you’re looking for a unique experience, I highly recommend you give canyoneering a go. You won’t regret it, and my only misgiving was that I had waited so long to try it myself!
bctreehunter 
I had never heard about canyoneering before. Reading about your adventure and seeing the pictures really makes me want to try it out, it looks like a lot of fun! Thanks for sharing this adventure!
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It is a bit of an obscure sport. If you do try it out, Utah is a hotspot and you can hire out guides there too I believe.
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Hey, thanks for info. A note to others who may do this. We did this trek this past weekend. We came within a very short distance from the end but were turned around and went all the way back up to the start. We ended up spending the night since it became dark. Although the summer was terribly dry, there were heavy rains about one week ago. We came to a very narrow slot in the canyon. I’m thinking it was within 100 meters from the end. There was a log dropping to the left and immediately, a second log that went down the center of the canyon. The canyon at this point could not be descended safely. It was too narrow and too fast. I have a fair bit of experience and had ropes, rappel gear, etc…. maybe someone with more seasoned experience could have found a way.
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I know the section, Rob. When we were in there I remember Chris saying that it was a very tricky in high water flow. Glad you made it out all right.
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Not sure on the context of your comment, but I agree with your evaluation as per your writeup on your site. My information dates back to 2012, but conditions were similar in September of that year
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I see some wearing the 5.10 Canyoneer boots. I used them and they wore out. They are discontinued. I am in SE Canada. What other boots are used out there for this?
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I’ll have to ask the guys what they prefer, and I’ll get back to you on that!
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Here’s one answer I got: I use my 5.10 C3’s, but the canyoneers are no longer made, so they are very hard to find. I like the boxy toe and sticky rubber, but that’s a personal preference. There are a number of boots around that are more suitable for wet canyons, but I’ve never heard of one that ticks all the boxes, and all have durability concerns. The one that seems to have the most backers is made by a company called Bestard (online orders are the only way you’ll find them). I’ve never tried them, but the supporters include a couple of people I trust.
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