December 1994: "The people of British Columbia gratefully acknowledge the generosity of Albert and Mary Palmer and Family. Their unselfish gift has helped to conserve this island for future generations. — B.C.Parks
(bronze plaque on the Palmer farm)
The empty windows of the Palmer farmhouse still look out across Home Bay. When we slipped through its narrow entrance on the rocky east side of Jedediah Island the tide was falling and now the broad inner lagoon was dry. A seagull gathered clams from the muddy bottom and dropped them on a rock near our camp. Our tent, pitched on a grassy bench at Sand Beach, is directly across from the old farmhouse which sits on a rocky crest facing the bay. Except for the occasional crack of a falling shell, the place is deathly quiet. There is no one else here.
With camp set up and kayaks securely parked above high tide we set out to explore the old farmstead. A trail leads through Douglas fir forest around the head of the bay and into a large pasture where a pair of unsheared sheep trail the tattered remnants of their winter fleece. At the far end of the pasture neat rows of apple, pear, plumb, and cherry trees still bear small fruit. An old Massey-Ferguson tractor is carefully parked in the barn – protected from the weather by the roof of hand-split cedar shakes.
The farmhouse, once brightly painted, is now weathered to a satin grey. Its broken windows are covered with wire mesh to prevent further vandalism but the building itself is still sound. For 21 years this was the home of Mary and Albert Palmer and Jedediah Island was their private domain. They were the last in a succession of private owners going back to the late 1880s when Jedediah was purchased from the Crown by the Foote family who cleared the fields and built the cottage at Home Bay. In the 1920s the Irish scholar, Henry Hughes, purchased the island, set up a gentleman's estate, and spent the rest of his life living there with his English wife and servants.
In 1949 Jedediah was acquired by Evan and Mary Mattice of Seattle who used it as a summer retreat. In 1971 Mary, with second husband Albert Palmer, moved to Home Bay where they lived and farmed until it was time to move on in 1990. Jedediah was again put up for sale, but this time with a new twist. The Palmers turned down private bids and, instead, offered the island to the B.C. government for $4.2 million, a fraction of its market value, on condition that it be made a provincial park. The cash-strapped government contributed $2.6 million and the balance was raised through contributions to the "Friends of Jedediah", an extraordinary community effort that began with a contribution of $1.1 million from the estate of Dan Culver, who died in 1993 while descending from the summit of K2.
Although he was best known as a mountaineer Dan loved the wilderness and in his will he requested that a portion of his estate be used to set aside and protect a coastal B.C. property for future generations. His family chose Jedediah.
By the time we walked back to camp Home Bay was again filling with water. On the shell-strewn rock where seagulls had feasted on clams a few hours earlier a great blue heron now stood in a foot of water, motionless, waiting for the tide to bring in a fish.
At daybreak the next morning our tranquil surroundings were shattered by the sound of breaking branches and we found ourselves in the midst of a heard of feral goats. The large, long-haired, long-horned males stood on hind legs and, pawing with forelegs, brought down branches that were shared with smaller animals in the herd. No one is sure when or how the goats arrived on Jedediah, or even how many there are. They have run free on the island for generations and may have been dropped off by early Spanish explorers in the 1700s.
On our first morning the sea outside the shelter of Home Bay was dotted with whitecaps. A strong southeast wind had whipped up a nasty chop so we decided to leave our kayaks and explore the island on foot. Good trails, once used by loggers, lead from Home Bay to nearby Cod Fish Bay and across the island to inlets and coves on the west side. We met a few day-hikers from sailboats anchored in Deep Bay and Long Bay but no other campers.
Most of Jedediah is now covered by thriving second-growth forest that provides welcome shade on the trails. The original fir and cedar were hand-logged around the turn of the century leaving fire-scarred stumps and a few giant trees that escaped the logger's crosscut and survived subsequent fires. The stumps, notched for springboards and sprouting a lush growth of ferns, resemble giant flowerpots scattered through the remarkably open second-growth forest.
By noon of our second day the wind slackened and swung around to the northwest bringing sunshine and flat seas. We launched the kayaks and set off to paddle around the island. Its only about 5 km but we spent hours poking into little coves, gliding silently up to curious seals, surprising river otters playing along the shore, and pausing to watch eagles and ospreys dive for fish. Through Little Bull Passage a strong tidal current swept us past sheer cliffs of pillow basalt – rock formed by a submarine volcanic eruption more than 200 million years ago. It was a memorable day!
Getting to Jedediah is not easy, which probably explains why Betty and I had the island virtually to ourselves. Tucked in between Lasqueti and Texada Islands in the northern Strait of Georgia, Jedediah has no ferry service. It is possible to paddle directly from the Parksville area of Vancouver Island or from Secret Cove on the Sunshine coast but both of these routes involve long crossings of potentially dangerous waters. Another option is taking the Lasqueti Island ferry and launching at False Bay but the ferry schedule is awkward and False Bay is still a 20 km, six hour paddle from Home Bay.
We chose to launch at Shingle Beach on Texada Island. From the Lower Mainland this involves three ferries – Horseshoe Bay to Langdale, Earls Cove to Saltry Bay, and Powell River to Blubber Bay. From there it’s only a short drive across Texada to the Forest Service Recreation Site at Shingle Beach, which provides free campsites and ample parking. We spent the night there and launched on a calm sea the next morning.
Hugging the west coast of Texada Island and boosted by a south-flowing tidal current we nosed past rocky headlands and shallow bays with pebble beaches that beckoned us to come ashore. Three hours of leisurely paddling brought us directly across Sabine Channel from Jedediah. Crossing at slack tide we had no problem but timing is important. Sabine Channel funnels tidal currents and can be tricky if there is an opposing wind. It is also on the main shipping route, not only for commercial tug and barge traffic but also cruise boats heading to Alaska.
The evening before we left Jedediah we walked back to the old Palmer farmhouse, watched the sun set, and tried to imagine what it must have been like to live in this idyllic place. The view looks south across the Strait of Georgia to the snow-covered cone of Mount Baker. The buildings of Vancouver's west end, distorted by a mirage, and fused by distance into a single ghostly white image, seem to rise out of the ocean – as remote from Home Bay as the imaginary world of a George Lucas movie set.
We watch a cruise ship draw closer. Its immaculate white hull trails a plume of brown soot, and a wake big enough to swamp a small boat. It churns past, nine decks of floating luxury where hundreds of people, insulated from the sounds and smells of the ocean, cushioned from the feel of waves and swells, have come to cruise the Inside Passage. If they notice Jedediah at all, they will see just another small island slide past their stateroom window like the image on a television screen. They don't know what they are missing!
