Bring On the Storms

Discover the untamed beauty of nature like never before on Vancouver Island.
By Claire Walter

The Pacific Coast of British Columbia’s Vancouver Island is a mecca for the growing cadre of travelers who seek the drama of raw scenic beauty and the adrenaline rush of some of North America’s most reliably wild winter weather. Between forested mountains and lakes to the northeast and the Pacific Ocean to the southwest stretches a sliver of Pacific Rim National Park Preserve, known for its fine-sand beaches, rocky headlands embracing scenic bays and coves, and rainforest hiking trails cut through thick old-growth red cedar and Western hemlock.

The Pacific Rim Highway, a 25-mile-long two-laner flanked by these towering moss-draped trees, runs through the park between Tofino and Ucluelet, a pair of laid-back hamlets that enjoy some of western Canada’s mildest winter temperatures but also endure some of its heaviest rainfalls and most potent storms. Stormwatchers come in winter to see Pacific storms roll in with fury and beauty.

Some 130 inches of average annual rainfall fall on this part of Vancouver Island, which is nicknamed the Rain Coast. Of that, 20 inches can pour from the skies in a single storm. Even in relatively tranquil periods between storms, impressive swells roll onto shore, crashing against rocky headlands, sliding over the wide beaches, littering the white sand with whiter oyster and clam shells, fringing the tideline with seaweed and rearranging the driftwood.

Eight-foot waves are not uncommon. Add wind and rising tides, and when all the elements of waves and weather converge to create the proverbial perfect storm, waves have been known to crest to 30 or 40 feet, occasionally even more. Even the driftwood is imposing. Storms wash enormous tree trunks up on the beaches and pile them into bayheads like spilled toothpicks of epic size. Beneath the turbulent waves lie nearly 250 shipwrecks, sunk over two centuries, in the so-called Graveyard of the Pacific.

A dozen or so significant tempests hit this coastline each month during storm season, which kicks off in late October or early November and shifts into high gear in January and February. In midwinter, the storm coast experiences buckets of rain, horizontal sheets of rain, sprays of rain shooting through the salt-kissed air–but rarely snow.

The phenomenon is improbably romantic. You might want snuggle in the warm, dry coziness of one of the handful of inns and lodges that remain open, or you might prefer to share the raw and invigorating experience of the outdoors, protected by fetching fishermen’s slickers that lodges lend to guests. Whether out in the thick of things or from indoor comfort, you will be mesmerized as wave after wave washes up on the beach below, crashes onto a nearby cliff and sprays your double-paned window. You might also luck upon nature’s light show from a winter electrical storm.

During low tides and calm periods, you can take an invigorating walk, either on a trail or directly along the shore. Step onto a beach as the tide goes out and gaze out at the restless sea and down by your feet to examine what the water has deposited on the sand. Still, it is imperative to keep a cautious eye for changing weather, and retreat when the tide begins to change. Beaches can be especially hazardous during a true winter storm, when those massive drift logs ride the waves and jumble onto land and pile up like Brobdinagian Pick-Up Sticks. Except during the most turbulent storms, when hoteliers and innkeepers caution guests to stay inside, you can don heavy-duty raingear and venture out into the weather, staying on marked trails and staying off wet rocks.

The best stormwatching spots include designated safe areas along the aptly named Wild Pacific Trail that snakes along the top of sea cliffs and Big Beach, a relatively sheltered horseshoe-shaped strand near Ucluelet. Radar Hill, crowned by remnants of a long-abandoned World War II installation at nearly 500 feet above sea level, provides a stunning panorama of coves, bays, breakers and clouds but can be terribly windy during a howling storm. Perhaps best of all is the Amphitrite Point Lighthouse overlooking with views of Barkley Sound, Broken Group Islands and the open sea. Near the operating Canadian Coast Guard Station, this squat, square signal structure is a coastal a landmark at the tip of the peninsula below Ucluelet.

In late February and early March, gray whales begin migrating northward along the coast, and stormwatchers begin to give way to whale watchers. An estimated 22,000 gray whales–the entire North American population of this awesome species–pass close by on their 5,000-nautical-mile journey from mating and calving lagoons of the Sea of Cortés between the Mexican mainland and Baja California, to their summer feeding grounds in the Bering and Chukchi Seas. That’s one heck of a commute–and it happens just off-shore of Vancouver Island. Most grays are gone by May, but some spend the entire in Clayoquot Sound, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve just northwest of Tofino.

The rocky headlands jutting out toward the sea offer fine vantage points for spotting these splendid marine mammals, and during the Pacific Rim Whale Festival (March 6-14, 2010), free public viewing stations are set up at Amphitrite Point Lighthouse, and charter boat and floatplane operators from Ucluelet and Tofino begin their season. The festival features 70 events, ranging from a seafood chowder cook-off to an art show.

Wildlife viewing is not restricted to whales. Bald eagles overwintering in this area can often be spotted in sheltered harbors, perched on trees or pier pilings in the harbor. The region’s black bears do not go into deep hibernation, so it is not uncommon to see bears even in the wettest weather. By March, you can often spot a bruin or two on skunk cabbage growing in roadside ditches or marshy areas.

Tofino was a fishing town, while Ucluelet’s economy was once based on logging. First Vietnam-era war protestors and later eco-activists added a layer of idealism to the pragmatic working-class populace, which still is only about 3,000 people spread between the two towns. Local business signs now indicate such enterprises as “massage therapy,” “art gallery,” “fishing charters” and “whale watching trips” that now form the base of the local economy.

Summer accommodations range from super-luxe to very basic, but in winter, it’s the high-end properties that remain open to welcome stormwatchers. Exceptionally comfortable accommodations, top-line spa services and lovely sea-view restaurants offer carefully prepared and served meals, meaning that stormwatching on Vancouver Island is a wild experience, but not a wilderness expedition.

Photo credits: Tourism Vancouver Island/Chrischeadle.com; Tourism British Columbia; Wickaninnish Inn

The information in this story was accurate when it was published on the AAA World Web site in November 2009, but details such as dates, times and prices may have changed since then. We suggest you verify such details directly with the listed establishments before making travel plans.