Brian Payton's love affair with the Long Beach/Clayoquot area began with a surfboard beneath his feet 12 years ago. As a curious UVic student he and a friend arrived in a red Rabbit, hopscotched across a tangled mass of driftwood logs and confirmed, much to his amazement, that surfing was indeed possible in the Great White North.
Payton, now a resident of Denman Island, has been returning with a notebook and a keen curiousity ever since. As a response to water, forests and wildlife, his prose in Long Beach, Clayoquot and Beyond (Raincoast $21.95), with photos by Bob Herger, also serves as an introduction to some of the issues percolating beneath the surface like an island hot spring.
At the southern end of Long Beach sits blue-collar Ucluelet, still primarily a fishing and logging community. By contrast, Tofino, at the north end is a community in transition. It's 1,300 residents absorb an annual tide of 300,000 visitors per year, much to the amazement of some locals.
"One thing us old-timers never imagined was that people would pay $65 each to go out and see a bunch of whales," say Tofino's Ken Gibson, who was born in a trading post near the Tofino government dock in 1935. "Things have really changed.
"During World War II, they trained fliers here. Tofino was the third largest air base in Canada. They used bald eagles for target practice, they practiced bombing runs on grey whales, and the small freighter aircraft strafed Sea Lion Rocks. Now our jobs depend on the wildlife."
The photos by Bob Herger, whose work has appeared in National Geographic and other books, typically highlight sand dollars lying in 'V' formation guiding the eye to the surf or a bicylist in a wetsuit carrying home his surfboard. You can almost breathe in the aroma of huge, centuries-old cedars on Meares Island. It's the next best thing to a daytrip.
The restorative powers of the place are obvious. The last time I camped at Long Beach in Pacific Rim National Park Reserve it was necessary to sculpt elaborate canals around the family tent to prevent it from floating away. Rainforest indeed. Resisting the temptation to quickly fold one's tent and run for cover is essential to appreciating the mildest and wettest spot in Canada - in other words, make like a banana slug and soak it up.
"You can see a physical change in people when they come back from a trip," says a sea kayak operator, "from their posture to their facial expression. It makes them feel connected."
That wide vista at Long Beach also has a peculiar way of lifting the mind over the horizon line. Payton imagines Japanese and Russian families enjoying similar experiences on their Pacific beaches, likely searching for those green glass Japanese fishing floats, sand dollars and other secrets of the sands. -- by Mark Forsythe.
1-55192-083-8

[BCBW 1997]