God's Country, Your Backyard (cont.)

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God's Country, Your Backyard (cont.)

Doug Wright is keeping things mellow for now. The 25-year-old British Columbia native, my guide, seems to be lost in thought as we glide away from the dock at the sportsman's village of Tofino. Our blades dip in unison and soon we fall into relaxed conversation. "I can't believe there are people who come here and never get on the water," says Wright, as we sweep lazily past a bald eagle preening himself on a sandbar 30 feet away. "It's where all the action is." When he's not helping paddlers discover the intricacies of Clayoquot Sound, Wright, a guide for Tofino Sea Kayaking for the past four seasons, longboards at one of several surf breaks on the far side of the Tofino peninsula or at Long Beach, in nearby Pacific Rim National Park.

Along this coast, he tells me, paddling technique develops naturally while your mind is busy drinking in the scenery. "It's kind of like school," he adds. "But the subjects are tide, swell, the season, the weather, forest ecology, marine life, birds. There's native history, timber politics. And the more you learn, the more you need to learn."

As we near the village of Opitsaht, on Meares Island, I get the feeling that my own lesson is unfolding. With a population of about 200, Opitsaht is known by its inhabitants as the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation. Five of the 14 tribes in the Nuu-chah-nulth ("All Along the Mountains") alliance are scattered up and down the shore of Clayoquot, their ancient homeland. Split-level frame homes have replaced the cedar longhouses of long ago, and aluminum boats are the vessels of choice for harvesting salmon and shellfish. But for the tribes of the Nuu-chah-nulth alliance, no other aspect of modernization has had a more dramatic impact than the lightning-rod issue of logging the Clayoquot area.

After decades of conflict, longtime adversaries are now rather strange bedfellows. Last year the Nuu-chah-nulth entered into a joint venture with former nemesis MacMillan Bloedel, Canada's largest forest-products company, to log tracts around Clayoquot. The Nuu-chah-nulth has a 51 percent stake in the newly formed company, called Iisaak Forest Resources. Some environmental groups approve of the deal because its goals are to concentrate on second-growth cutting, sustain biodiversity, and respect traditional Indian values regarding the use of the land. Despite its promise, some locals aren't yet convinced.

Sergio Paone, former director of Friends of Clayoquot Sound, a Tofino-based environmental group that opposes the Iisaak joint venture, argues that the progressive-sounding plan is far from a clean break with Clayoquot's old-growth clear-cutting past. "It's an old strategy, called 'talk and log,'" says Paone. "While everyone sits around praising the beautiful forest, the same old shoddy activities are taking place out of sight."

Things are certainly quieter nowadays than they were in August 1993, when years of protest reached a climax with a huge logging-road blockade. More than 800 activists were arrested. Ultimately, the government established a scientific panel to study how Clayoquot could be logged without being destroyed. The new spirit of cooperation eventually led to the Iisaak deal.

Today, the legacy of past timber practices—bare mountain slopes, erosion, landslides—can still be glimpsed by observant kayakers. But when Doug Wright and I make shore on Meares Island, near the Big Tree Trail, we're entering a gorgeous remnant that reminds us of what can be saved and someday restored. We hike through the tangle of salal and sword ferns in one of the last great old-growth stands of temperate rainforest in the hemisphere. Soon, we're under a western red cedar called the Hanging Gardens, believed to be 1,500 years old. Wright points out that if a tree like this were to fall to the chainsaw it would be worth the price of a small house.

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