A secluded spot off British Columbia offers surf with 'soul'

When we weren't surfing, eating or sitting in the sauna, we wandered the empty beaches in search of glass floats from Japanese fishing nets (a treasure along these shores), hiked through old-growth spruce forests and fished for Pacific salmon.

At night, we had bonfires on the beach, swapped stories and enjoyed Rautter's fabulous desserts. She even baked an Austrian chocolate cake and offered us champagne after hearing that it was my husband's birthday -- such is their hospitality.

"We're all about the experience and making friends with the people who come here," said Hunting. "Surfing has become so commercialized, but this is surfing that still has some soul to it. And people really love this environment."

That night, my husband and I slept in a tent on the beach, next to a giant piece of driftwood -- a sitka spruce that measured at least 15 feet in circumference. We fell asleep listening to the sounds of the surf rolling the beach stones around like marbles, and we awoke to the sound of a dog sniffing around our tent. When we mentioned this to Rautter the next morning over our buckwheat pancakes, she said, "The dogs were with us last night. We don't let them out because of the wolves."

Sometimes it's cool to be close to wildlife -- and not know it's there.

We spent the next two days practicing our surf moves, finally learning how to stand and ride the waves at least a few feet -- a big accomplishment for me given the thick wetsuit and heavy booties I was wearing.

Then we hopped back into the Zodiac and trolled for salmon as we headed back to Tahsis. As we cruised up the jade-colored inlet, an eagle flew overhead and we had a clear view of the mainland's rugged mountains as they disappeared in the summer haziness.

Kari J. Bodnarchuk is a Boston outdoor adventure and travel writer. Reach her via travel@news.oregonian.com

Previous  | 1 | 2 | 3