Northern Vancouver island: The wild Pacific between washington and alaska (part 2)
Words: Kaiya Sjöholm
Photos: David Kenworthy & Kaiya Sjöholm
port hardy
Last Stop Before the Wild
From Telegraph Cove, we carried on to Port Hardy, the last major town on Vancouver Island before the road ends and the Inside Passage begins. It is a working harbour, a departure point for ferries to remote coastal communities, and the place we would call home for the next few days of exploring.
Fishing boats bobbed at their moorings, gulls wheeled overhead, and the salty air carried the low hum of diesel engines. This was the edge of the map, where the pace slows, the air feels heavier, and the line between town and wilderness blurs.
San Josef Bay
Rainforest to Sea
One morning, we drove west into Cape Scott Provincial Park. The road narrowed to gravel, winding through dense rainforest until it ended at the San Josef Bay Trailhead.
The hike in was gentle, winding along boardwalks and packed earth, the air thick with the scent of cedar and salt. When the trees finally opened, the beach appeared all at once; a wide expanse of golden sand dotted with dramatic sea stacks and tide pools alive with starfish and anemones.
We wandered barefoot along the shoreline, watching waves wrap around the rock formations. The rhythm of the tide, the stillness of the air, and the rugged beauty of the coast made it feel untouched and timeless.
Nights in the boonies
Eagles and Bears
Our nights in the north were spent at remote campsites, far from the glow of any town. No cell service. No hum of traffic. Just the sound of wind in the trees, water on the shore, and the crackle of the fire.
Every night, the calls of eagles carried across the inlets, sharp and wild. We saw them constantly, perched high in the evergreens, circling above, and scanning the shoreline for fish.
And the bears. We saw at least one every single day. Sometimes grazing in meadows, emerging from the forest, and padding silently along the roadside. Each sighting was a reminder that here, the wild truly belongs to the animals.
Dakota plane crash
History in the Trees
Before we even started to hike to the Dakota plane crash site, we parked across from the trailhead and spotted nine eagles, most of them juveniles, perched in the surrounding trees. Their brown-speckled feathers blended into the branches until they shifted and the light caught them.
The trail was a slight challenge; slick with mud, climbing upward, and winding through dense coastal forest. Rope sections helped on the steeper pitches, and at certain points, the trees opened just enough to give stunning views of Port Hardy across Bear Cove.
After about an hour, the forest closed in again, and the air grew quieter. We stepped into a small clearing, and the wreckage appeared. Rusted metal, twisted frames, and fragments of a World War II-era Dakota transport plane lay scattered, partially reclaimed by moss and ferns. The remembrance plaque stands nearby, honouring the crew and marking the site of the 1944 crash.
It felt eerie to stand there, surrounded by the stillness of the forest, knowing the history embedded in the ground beneath our feet. We moved slowly through the site, taking in both the tragedy and the way nature had softened its edges.
The hike back down was just as muddy as the climb up, but the experience was unlike anything else we had done on Vancouver Island; part history, part adventure, and a place that stays with you long after you leave.
Why VOORMI delivered
From the ropes of a near-vertical climb to the open deck of a zodiac in torrential rain, from barefoot walks on remote beaches to damp forest trails, our VOORMI layers handled it all.
David lived in his Short Sleeve Tech Tee, River Run Hoodie, and High-E Hoodie. I rotated through the same pieces, along with my Expedition 1/4 Zip top. With no access to laundry services while being off-grid for nearly two weeks, the merino made sure we didn’t stink despite sweaty, tough adventures.
The River Run Hoodie became a constant; light enough for the climbs, protective enough for open water, and comfortable enough to wear straight from trail to camp. The Short Sleeve Tech Tee kept us cool on the steeper ascents, the High-E Hoodie brought warmth around the campfire, and the Expedition 1/4 Zip kept me insulated under the survival suit in the rain.
Northern Vancouver Island is wild, remote, and unpredictable. Having gear you can trust here is not a luxury; it is a necessity.