Sunrise Paddle

When we planned our sunrise paddle on the Nicomekl River it had been the height of a lingering hot summer. July and August had been relentlessly sunny with very little rain. Getting up early and being on the water as dawn was breaking over the pastoral 1894 Stewart Farm sounded idyllic. No more than a mile from our house, an adventure yet to be experienced. We couldn’t wait.

The word Nicomekl is a Sto:lo word, meaning "the route to go" or "pathway" and was first documented in writing during an 1824 Hudsons Bay Company expedition to the Fraser River.

As our own paddle day drew closer summer ended abruptly. More rain fell in two days than during the entire summer. The next morning we had to be up by 5 a.m. and when the alarm went off we both groaned, wondering why we were doing this. The only souls pleased to see us up at that hour were the cats – early breakfasts all round. It was pitch black outside, but fortunately the rain had diminished to a light intermittent drizzle from the deluge during the night.

We drove to the Stewart Farm entrance to find the gate locked but soon connected with Laura our paddle leader in the boat house near the river. The next task was to move the kayak trailer closer to the dock and carry our kayaks down to the water. Soon we were paddling towards Crescent Beach marina and Blackie Spit. The current was amazingly strong so there were not too many opportunities to coast.

A lone heron swooped over us curiously, landing in a tree which overhung the river. Ducks paddled across the river, unperturbed by our presence. A seal popped his head up from the surface and eyed us for a while, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

The dramatic sunrise we had mused about was instead a sky heavy with fast moving clouds, a palette of charcoal and blue-grey. Suddenly the glass-like surface of the water was pierced with raindrops.

It was as though a thousand pebbles were falling in unison from the sky. Within minutes the rain had stopped and the wind played with us as it gusted across the river.

It was very difficult to stay in a straight line, no matter how steadily we paddled. The current added to the workout but soon we had a rhythm going and had reached the railway bridge with Mud Bay beyond it. Paddling under the bridge we could see Blackie Spit from a completely different perspective. One of our favourite walks, this was the first time we had seen it from the water.

Several hours later we arrived back at the dock and helped put the equipment away, coffee and a bacon sandwich on the horizon.