“Hey Mick, I’ve been thinking about a novel way to begin 2023. You game?” The message came from Chris, with whom I’ve shared many an adventure. He was hoping to visit Vancouver Island to ring in the New Year! My response came quickly. “You’ve got my attention, so what’s the plan?” “Well, I’m calling it a mountain, a tree, and a beach. I’d like to head up to the north end of the island and have a look at Koprino Mountain, Grant Bay, and San Jo Smiley.” In all honesty, I drew an absolute blank on those first two names, but I knew the third happened to be Canada’s largest Sitka spruce on record!
I was well convinced, and the next thing I knew, the two of us were heading north on the Island Highway, several hours before sunrise. I was more than reluctant to wake up, accompanied by that ever present wave of nausea that often goes hand in hand with a lack of sleep. Thankfully, Chris was doing the driving, and in no time the Simpsons imitations were flying back and forth between us!
Meanwhile, the late December sun struggled unsuccessfully to emerge, and light rain began. We were glad, at least, that the roads north of Campbell River weren’t inundated with snow. Topics of discussion included a South American trek Chris had planned for February, and several of my big tree expeditions of 2022. Considering the trials and tribulations of day to day life in a mining camp- he is a geologist by profession- Chris was just happy to be getting away for a few days!
Hours later, we reached Nahwitti Lake, which we had decided would be our first stop. Recently, I’d read a post from the Ancient Forest Alliance about a beautiful spruce grove there, and since Chris had seen it before, he volunteered to show me around!
The North Island, especially in winter, is notorious for its rainfall, so the damp conditions that greeted us seemed entirely appropriate. All that precipitation is a major reason Sitka spruce there can grow to immense size, after all! A jolt of cool morning air soon prompted us to throw on extra layers before taking to the forest. The walk was quietly inviting, and an ideal opportunity to stretch our legs. We would soon be climbing a mountain, after all!
Or would we? Had we known of the obstacles ahead, we might have been deciding to stop for a beer (or three) and a burger at The Scarlet Ibis Pub in Holberg instead!
Koprino Peak, by all reports, was a modest 808 metre hill with little technical difficulty, but we knew next to nothing about the road conditions. Due to limited time and daylight, it would be necessary to drive relatively close to our objective to ensure success, but that was not to be. Thwarted by fallen trees, unfriendly trenches, and an assortment of other hazards, we simply could not find reasonable access. Admittedly, I suppose we didn’t miss much, because the views would have resembled the inside of a cloud! Still, optimism prevailed, since there was ample time to climb a mountain the following day.
Frustrated by those efforts, we soon turned our thoughts to the beach. Grant Bay, a remote cove on the west coast of Vancouver Island’s Quatsino Sound, turned out to be a revelation! We arrived in early afternoon, intending to set up camp well before nightfall. Better yet, as we reached the trailhead, the skies miraculously began to clear! The well groomed path was a luxury, and a mere ten minute stroll from the beach!
Gazing upon the rolling surf and colourful horizon inspired limitless imagination. We could see the faint outline of Lawn Point, as the mist floated over the mountains. The ever mysterious Brooks Peninsula, which escaped glaciation during the most recent ice age, loomed in the distance. All of this improved our outlook on life, sleep deprived as we were!
So, what did we do then?
Years earlier, Chris had attempted unsuccessfully to visit this beach, via a route which had now reputedly fallen into disuse. He was quite curious to find out whether or not he could locate the terminus of that old trail. Meanwhile, I opted for a little bit of beachcombing and a whole lot of photography!
Time passed slowly, and several other parties visited the beach briefly, but only a few decided to stay the evening. I lost myself in the remoteness of this place, which I never knew existed only a week before. The weather was cool and windy for the most part, with intermittent rain, but the sun repeatedly persevered!
Just as sunset began approaching, an ethereal light enveloped the bay, and the skies took on unimaginable colours. Then, one of the brightest, clearest rainbows I’d ever seen formed a perfect arch over the seaside forest. I could not have envisioned a better way to usher in the New Year! My only regret was that my entire family could not be there to share in it all!
Chris, for his part, did not find that old trail, but arrived back in camp to enjoy the end of the light show. We made dinner in the fading light and exchanged thoughts about the following day, as the air around us cooled noticeably. After returning to the truck for more clothing, we sauntered back to camp, then we cracked open some Mt Benson IPAs I’d brought along for refreshments (thanks to White Sails Brewing in Nanaimo). It wasn’t long until we more or less gave in to exhaustion, and turned in well before midnight.
The calm and starry night was alive with the roar of crashing surf and the sounds of trees swaying in the wind. Having seen their tracks on the beach, I wondered whether we’d be fortunate enough to hear the calls of coastal wolves. They are, in my perception, an iconic symbol of wilderness, and I felt honoured to be sharing their home.
We awoke in the darkness on New Year’s Day, with no complaints about lack of sleep, since we’d turned in sometime around 730 pm the night before! A quick breakfast and some coffee, in my case at least, and we set off in search of San Jo Smiley!
This meant negotiating a network of logging roads near San Josef Bay well before sunrise. Fortunately, Chris was able to make short work of that assignment, and it took about an hour to find the tree, which is located on Raft Main.
A number of years ago, the reigning champion Sitka spruce in British Columbia, the San Juan Spruce, sustained irreparable damage. While it still clings tenaciously to life, it’s no longer the largest in the province. That distinction now falls to San Jo Smiley, most certainly one of the more regal specimens I’ve ever seen! It has a diameter at breast height (DBH) of 4.36 metres (14.30 feet), and measures 77.8 metres(255 feet) tall, with an averaged crown spread of 19.6 metres (64.29 feet). The trunk tapers slowly as it rises into the canopy above, which makes this giant all the more impressive! I have not seen an estimate of the tree’s age, to date.
San Jo Smiley compares quite favourably with both the Quinault Spruce, and the Queets Spruce, both of which reside in the United States, on Washington’s west coast. According to tree expert Robert Van Pelt, the Queets tree is the largest Sitka spruce on the planet, when measured by laser technology to establish total volume. On the other hand, it is sometimes argued that the Quinault Spruce has a larger recorded diameter at breast height, although substantial erosion around its base, complicates that measurement. While I’m not certain that San Jo Smiley would outrank either of them, it looks to me to be a strong contender for the top five Picea sitchensis, without question.
It was still twilight when we arrived at the tree, and we took a fair amount of time to admire its presence. In the surrounding forest, a Western Forest Products tenure on the traditional lands of the Quatsino First Nation, there are also some other sizeable Sitka spruce. It is a place that most certainly warrants more exploration.
Our time with this legend was limited, as we still hoped to climb one of the mountains near Telegraph Cove on the way home. I had visited that area the previous October, to measure some Pacific yews for the B.C. Big Tree Registry, but that’s a tale for another time! Weather was now improving, and we were graced by sunshine once more!
Déjà vu! Sadly, our fate in Telegraph Cove was similarly sealed, since the our quest was derailed by a combination of damaged roads, and locked gates. Nearly a year later, neither of us can even recall the name of the mountain we were after, but I suppose that doesn’t matter too much. Chris wanted to return home at a reasonable hour, and since a long drive awaited us, we waived the white flag of surrender, and returned to the highway.
Still, I felt little in the way of disappointment, since the northern reaches of Vancouver Island have a way of inspiring dreams. Our goal had been a mountain, a beach, and a tree, and to paraphrase the late rock musician Meatloaf, “Two Outta Three Ain’t Bad”!
bctreehunter 
thanks a lot of information keren
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome! North Island has so much to explore!
LikeLike