Best hotel, best food, best ride. Our recent 3-day road boat trip to Ucuelet was The Best.
Instead of driving across the island, this time we decided to go by boat. Getting up early we drove half an hour through the mountains to Port Alberni, technically a west coast city but way far up a Pacific Ocean inlet, to board the MV Frances Barkley, a working supply boat servicing remote places without road access, that also takes tourists for a terrific ride. By the time we reached Ucuelet we had seen a bear foraging on a beach, humpback whales, seals, eagles, logging operations and fishing boats. Especially fishing boats. We saw hundreds of small sport fishing boats on the way out. (“Oh, this is nothing”, said the Port Alberni ‘Chamber Ambassador’ volunteer accompanying the tourists in her bright yellow windbreaker. “You should see it when the fish are REALLY running”.) There were the large seiners easing out their nets, deftly circling the attached white floats, and on the way back, we saw the smaller gill net boats, lined up for miles and miles along the side of the inlet, not moving, waiting for the radio call that opens the fishery. When the call comes everyone snaps to and there is frantic movement as they all move into position and cast their nets to grab whatever salmon is there. I know for sure they get in each others’ way sometimes as I watched as our own boat, trying to make its way through the boats and nets, actually run over the edge of one of them (the net that is).
I’ve been traveling to the west coast of the island for many years now. Most of the time we have stayed in Tofino, 10 miles down the road, past the beaches and the park. I love it there too. This is the second time staying in Ucuelet and it is quickly gaining my affections.
As far as I’m concerned, the best hotel is no hotel, so the Whiskey Landing Lodge was a good compromise. Stepping into the suite with panoramic views of the inlet, docks and mountains, the very first thought was “This is it, I’m not leaving this room. Ever.” And settled in to watch the action.
The Whiskey Landing Lodge was originally designed and built to be condos. The man who created and built it used the timber logged from his own woodlot in Barkley Sound and the details and craftsmanship are beautiful. Somehow his plans and dreams went awry and it was never finished as a condo property. Lucky for me, after sitting vacant for a few years as he sorted out his problems, it was acquired to be run as a hotel, but aside from a small check-in counter on the ground floor with friendly and helpful staff, it feels like a private residence. No spa, no restaurant, no room service – just space, peace and views. My kind of place.
From my windows and balcony I watched this fishing village in action, from 5:00 am departures of the sportfisher boats to middle of the night, lights blazing, seiners going out to who knows where. We went on a small tour boat one day in search of wildlife and viewed the harbour from the water side, with its shabby but hugely colourful packing plants and icemaking buildings and fishermen unloading their catch. Outside the inlet we motored out to distant rocks and islands to get up close and personal with resting Stellar sea lions and seals, gathering energy until they too went back out fishing.
Being in Ucuelet without a car meant settling in and getting to know the town itself. Instead of hopping in the car and heading down to road to Long Beach or off to Tofino for lunch, we walked around and discovered places we hadn’t seen before – chowder at the dockside pub watching the fishermen docking after a day out, the Raven’s Lady food truck with its dynamite oyster menu on the main street and the Reflecting Spirit gallery filled with local art I found one day in a nondescript mall while out taking my camera for a walk.
This young eagle was perched on top of the mast of the large boat docked right in front of us. He (I’m guessing it was) was at eye level to me on my balcony. I took what seemed like 12,000 pictures and watched him and his family for a long time with binoculars. Behind him, perched on trees on the small island opposite, were his brother and parents. I watched as Dad fished, swooping around on the surface until leaning in for the grab. Clutching the fish in his talons, weighed down, he flew off with it, skimming the surface. Juvenile eagles look like this for the first five years of their lives, eventually morphing into the white heads and tails of adulthood. Their parents mate for life and live for 30 years.
I’d say the best measure of a successful trip is when you get home and immediately want to return. I will.
Hipster Eagle by Angie Roussin 2014 pinastyles.com