AD 2018 Q1

Diving
ON
Sunshine
SUNSHINE COAST, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
TEXT AND PHOTOS BY BRANDON COLE
When I told a nondiving neighbor we were going to the
Sunshine Coast in February, his retort was predictable
and laced with jealous sarcasm. “Poor thing, must be
tough. All that lazing about on the beach, with swaying
palm trees and water so warm I bet your rubber diving
suits are completely optional.”
When I told my wife, she adopted a pensive look then
got right down to business asking, “My suit doesn’t leak
anymore, right? I use 40 pounds of lead in my harness?
And water temperatures should be mid-40s?” Giving
her a triple affirmative with a grin, I then poured on
the charm to clinch the deal, adding that the weather
forecast was not too terrible and that the tides were
actually quite good for shooting the Skook. She half
smiled and began creating her packing list: drysuit,
“Chewbacca suit” (full-body woolen undergarments),
Gore-Tex® rainsuit, plenty of hot cocoa packets, etc.
Sunscreen was not on the list.
TRIAL BY SKOOK
So we come to find ourselves 70 feet down Observation
Wall along the west side of the famed Skookumchuck
Narrows in British Columbia, our wide eyes feasting on
the scenery before us. Countless anemones, sponges, sea
stars and sea urchins decorate the wall, a living patchwork
quilt of white, yellow, orange, red and purple. Copper
rockfish stare curiously back at us, while kelp greenlings
glide over the many-hued mosaic. Red Irish lords lounge
in lushly carpeted cracks and crevices. Some are cunningly
camouflaged, others are easy to spot. To the uninitiated,
this vibrant profusion of fins and tube feet, tentacles and
spines may seem possible only in the tropical paradise
imagined by our neighbor. But those baptized in the
Pacific Northwest’s cold waters know better. The emeraldgreen
45°F sea around us is packed with nutrients that
nourish an impressive assemblage of marine life.
The Skook, formally known as Sechelt Rapids, is one of
the fastest navigable waterways in North America, and we
cannot resist its pull. No one can, actually. The water can
shoot through here at 16 knots on a big spring tide, but
thankfully we encounter only a whisper of current. Thus
we can loiter about and ogle the opulence on display here
at one of the Northwest’s best dive sites. We know that
this mellow moment is but fleeting. Time and tide wait
for no one. All too soon the Skook will be racing, and
conditions will be downright dangerous. We are lucky
to eke out 15 minutes more before the floodgates open.
Lacking the strong five-armed grip of the violet ochre sea
star, we are forced to ascend.
SNOW AND SUNSHINE
The mix of rain and snow falling from the steel-gray
clouds does nothing to cool our enthusiasm as we
clamber into the boat. Jabbering through numb lips, we
exuberantly recount the dive and soak in the topside view
of Sechelt Inlet: steep slopes covered in moss-bearded
cedar and fir, tendrils of mist pulled wispy and thin like
spun cotton candy, a bald eagle perched imperiously
atop a snag. Palm trees and warm breezes are in short
supply, but what surrounds us is striking — even idyllic,
in a harsh, Vikingesque sort of way. It is much better than
some beach on the equator, 3,500 miles to the south.
The Sunshine Coast is nestled in the southwest
corner of British Columbia (BC), Canada’s westernmost
province. Deep fjords cut into majestic mountains,
connecting mainland BC with the sea. The Strait of
Georgia lies between this 100-mile stretch of rugged,
remote coastline and Vancouver Island. To reach the
picturesque seaside communities that dot the Sunshine
Coast, one must travel by air or ocean. Our midwinter
escape to experience the region’s superb diving began
by driving from snowbound eastern Washington to
Seattle in the western part of the state, heading north
across the Canadian border to Vancouver, taking a car
ferry to Langdale and finally driving through temperate
rainforest up the Sechelt Peninsula to Egmont. Though
76 | WINTER 2018