Canada’s West Coast

The nine cabins

at Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort are often booked well in advance.

Exploring Nimmo Bay

Deep wilderness luxury on Canada’s West Coast

By Tim Johnson

Like the revelation of a mystery, the fog lifts once we roll away from British Columbia’s Sullivan Bay.

With the fog too thick to land right next to the lodge, the pilot put her down further away, the amphibious plane’s big pontoon’s skimming evenly across a saltwater inlet, then taxiing, with a little boatlike sway, to a little cluster of buildings. A shop, café, fuel station, and a few private residences ring a harbor so glassy-calm that their façades are reflected back in it, mirror-perfect.

The pilot makes a call from the coffee shop, and soon enough we’re skimming again, this time in the Raven, the fastest boat in the fleet at Nimmo Bay. With the last wisps of murk now far behind us, we roll up to an unlikely oasis, a strange, wonderful bit of luxury deep in the forest. Passing a series of postcard-perfect cabins strung along a stretch of wild Pacific coast, we walk up the dock, are greeted by a friendly dog, then seat ourselves in overstuffed chairs. The Lumineers spin on a record player somewhere nearby. Every window is like a work of art, revealing its own scene of beauty.

I’m at Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort, in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest. With just nine cabins located both in the forest and the intertidal zone, it’s connected by docks and wooden walkways. Both luxurious and stylish, it’s an uber-comfortable place from which to launch wild adventures.

But first I take a tour of the place with Neepa, the resident mutt, tagging along. The two-bedroom cabins are separated from the main lodge by a waterfall, which provides both fresh water and hydroelectricity to guests and staff. Walking past a series of helipads and over a bridge that traverses a fresh little stream, I settle into

BRITISH COLUMBIA

NIMMO BAY

VICTORIA

Nimmo Bay is located in the southern Great Bear Rainforest.

my waterfront cabin. It’s set on a floating dock, and I’m told it will rise and fall with the tide.

But I only have a moment to pause and sit on a rocking chair on the cabin’s broad front porch, which opens up to ocean and mountains. Because soon I’m back on the Raven, winding through a series of small inlets.

Leaving the British Columbia mainland behind—the Alaskan panhandle way to the north, the city of Vancouver eventually to our south—we roar at 30 knots, across Queen Charlotte Strait, in search of humpback whales. Our captain, a sunny young woman named Jen, checks an online tracking system, then explores a series of spots—Malcolm Island, Swanson Island—in search of marine mammals. Mindful of the seas, we keep our eyes on the skies, too.

“The local First Nation called seagulls ‘birds of abundance,’” she said, noting that they would simply follow them to where whales were feeding.

In Blackfish Sound, just off Vancouver Island, near the famed Broughton Archipelago Marine Provincial Park, we find the whales—incredibly, some 50 of them, surrounding us. Even Captain Jen and our onboard guide, Karlie, are amazed at the sight, these humpbacks surfacing to lunge feed in every direction, while a thick canopy of birds circles above. In awe, we watch as they swim, spout, and then dive deep, flukes waving high as they leave us behind.

The next day, it’s time for bears. Rolling out with the same captain-guide pairing, they take us into the dark waters of Mackenzie Sound in search of grizzlies and black bears. As we all scan the shorelines for life, Captain Jen notes that this water is home to a number of marine mammals, including dolphins, porpoises, seals, sea lions, and, occasionally, orca. She adds that we’re looking for areas near the water filled with rocks, which bears like to turn over, looking for mussels and crab.

“They spend a lot of time in the intertidal zone,” she says, which presents these beasts with a sort of wild supermarket of food options every day.

Soon enough we spot one, a big male bear about 5 years old, flipping rocks, browsing for breakfast. Our boat falls silent, and we approach, engine low, trying to get close without disturbing his meal. After a few minutes of searching, he gives up, sauntering back into the nearby woods, gone the second he passes from the rocky shore into the green.

Heading back, we arrive back at the lodge famished, and sit down inside—snug, warm, comfortable—to a huge platter of seafood, primarily super-fresh crab, red and ready to go, as well as a healthy mess of mussels. Like that bear earlier in the morning, we dig into it, hungrily scooping out the mussels and cracking the crab.

The floatplane is waiting, pulled up to the dock and primed to take us back to civilization. But for the moment, right now, another album spinning on the record player, the sun shining, the rainforest all around, and a hearty feast before us, I can’t quite imagine leaving—at least not until the last leg is gone from the platter. 

Tim Johnson is based in Toronto. He has visited 140 countries across all seven continents.

The Great Bear Rainforest includes 50,000

SQUARE MILES of coastal wilderness.

If You Go

Where to Stay: A member of National Geographic Unique Lodges of the World and the Magnificent 7 Luxury Wilderness Lodges of Canada, Nimmo Bay Resort is accessible only by boat, helicopter, or floatplane. Its nine luxury cabins are often booked well in advance—months, even years—during peak season.

Getting There in Style:

VIH Executjet provides an exclusive, private experience aboard its fleet of helicopters, jets, and planes, including the Cessna Caravan Amphibian that shuttles guests from Victoria Harbor up to Nimmo Bay.