Ucluelet Things to Do

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It's a rare visitor to Vancouver Island who doesn't want to see bears, and if you're visiting in the Fall (September - November), you'd struggle to find a better place to do so than at the Thornton Creek Hatchery, about 10km out of Ucluelet.

From a bear's point of view, it is a feeding paradise. Not only do they have the opportunity to feast on salmon that have come back to their birthplace to spawn (who are trapped at the base of a waterfall too high to leap), but they even have their fishing done for them, because the carcasses of fish that have been harvested for eggs are tossed onto the streambank, saving them the effort of doing anything other than gorging themselves!

Despite the abundance of 'takeaway' food, the bears here do still have a go at catching their own food: we watched a youngster display his rather inept fishing skills, trapping salmon against boulders with his huge claws. If you are lucky enough to see bears displaying this behaviour, then watch closely, as the black bears on Vancouver Island have developed webbing between their toes to better equip them for this wet environment.

Getting close to a bear is a sobering experience - we inadvertently got much closer than we were comfortable with when a young bear clambered up from the streambed onto the boardwalk within 5m of where we were standing. The black bear may be the smallest of the American bear species, but they are still very large and powerful animals, and more than a match for a human. It's by far the closest I've ever been to a large predator without some protective barrier, and although it's a thrill to be close enough to observe them in great detail, there is also a powerful realisation that if they decided to attack, you wouldn't stand a chance. Fortunately, they are so well fed that they wouldn't be tempted to attack a human for food, but you need to be mindful that they will attack if they feel threatened or cornered, so make sure that you always give them a wide berth.

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A boardwalk has been constructed along the streambank from the Thornton Creek hatchery to the nearby waterfall to provide ease of access for staff collecting salmon for egg harvesting. It's only a couple of hundred metres long, but it's very beautiful and provides an excellent vantage point from which to observe the local wildlife.

As you mount the boardwalk, you'll see a notice warning you that bears and well as humans use the walkway. They're not joking either - when we were there, a young bear who'd been moseying along the stream unexpectedly popped up through the railing! So proceed with caution - especially around a 'blind' corner just past the hatchery, as - to paraphrase the song - if you go down to those woods, you may indeed be in for a 'big surprise' (and it won't be a teddy bear)!

From a practical point of view, the handrail of the boardwalk is a godsend for anyone who's forgotten their tripod - the low light conditions mean that your camera will need a long exposure time (even if it's set on automatic mode), so leaning it on something stable really helps to reduce the risk of blurring.

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I'm a moderately keen birdspotter, but I've not had a lot of luck with spotting woodpeckers over the years, so it was a particular pleasure to come across this chappie along the Lighthouse Loop of the Wild Pacific Trail.

Woodpeckers are a pain in the proverbial to spot as they hang around in woodland where the light is poor - and Sod's Law dictates that even if you do spot them, they are usually a good way above your head at the angle most inconvenient for your camera! Usually the giveway is the 'tap-tap-tap' sound they make as they drill into the tree trunk.

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Oh my - seeing a bald eagle fishing has to be one of the highlights of our time on Vancouver Island!

We encountered this eagle when we were hiking the Lighthouse Loop of the Wild Pacific trail in Ucluelet. Actually, we heard the eagle before we say it, as it was engaged in a robust dispute with a pair of seagulls over a fish. What appears to have happened is that the eagle had caught a fish and had then been 'mobbed' by the seagulls, causing it to drop its catch back into the sea. We watched the eagle retrieve the fish, fend off his indignant assailants and then retreat to a rocky promontary to eat his well earned meal.

Watching an eagle eat a large fish is a fascinating experience, as of course they don't have teeth to cut apart their catch. Instead they rely on their beaks and talons to tear at the flesh, and in this case, the eagle tossed the fish up in the air and used the force of impact on the rocks to break the carcass up.

Compared to many of the other dark plumaged seabirds in the area, the bald eagles are fairly simple to spot and identify, on account of their distinctive white head tail feathers and their unmistakable bright yellow beaks and legs. However, the ones we encountered were still a little wary of people, and we found that it was difficult to get good shots, even with a fairly long lens.

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Vancouver Island is all about spectacular landscapes and exciting wildlife experiences, and, by comparison, the towns tend to pale into relative insignificance. With relatively few exceptions, the architecture is pleasantly utilitarian and undistinguished, which makes it all the more striking when you stumble across something genuinely interesting.

This little church in Uclelet is one such exception and is reminscent of an illustration from a children's book. It is endearingly tiny, with attractive but sturdy proportions that make it look as though it's hunkering down in anticipation of bad weather. It must have been painted fairly recently, and the combination of pristine white walls and dark blue roof, window frames and door was extremely attractive.

Apologies for the poor quality of the photo, but it speaks volumes on the weather that welcomed us to town!

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The Thornton Creek hatchery about 10km from Ucluelet is a wonderful place for bird photography due to a fortunate combination of circumstances.

Firstly, it represents the juxtaposition of several different habitats: the forest, the stream and the open water of the northern shores of Ucluelet harbour into which the stream flows all provide distinct ecosystems niches which are exploited by different birds. Added to this, in the salmon spawning season, the hatchery provides an abundant source of easy food, both in terms of salmon in the stream and the salmon carcasses that are discarded on the stream bank opposite the hatchery after the eggs have been harvested.

When we visited in early October, the most raucous visitors by far were the sea gulls which come in to scavenge on the salmon carcasses. However, they were given a good run for their money by a juvenile bald eagle, who wasn't about to let itself be bullied, whilst the magnificent heron pictured above stood sentry over the proceedings. Along the wooded streambank, blue jays played 'hide and seek' in the forest undergrowth, whilst more cryptic American dippers (also known by the charming name of Water Ouzels) hopped from boulder to boulder in search of food. Meanwhile, only a few tens of metres away, a variety of ducks and geese floated serenely on the open water.

Although you'll be able to get closer to the birds here than in most places, bear in mind that conditions along the stream can be challenging for photography because of the poor light, so if you're a serious photographer, come equipped with a tripod, a long lens and a card with sufficient storage capacity to allow you to snap away at a high resolution.

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Salmon are genetically programmed to return to their place of birth when they reach breeding maturity, where they spawn and then die. It's not hard to appreciate the logic of this grand design in that it ensures that the fish return to an environment that is conducive to breeding - unless something has changed in the interim.

However, human developments - such as dams and stormwater diversions in the river headwaters -and other factors (such as changes in rainfall pattern) may make this migration back to their birthplace more challenging - and, in some cases, impossible. In some instances (such as at the Stamp River Falls) interventions have been made by constructing 'fish ladders', which create interim 'steps' in the falls which the fish can leap between.

In the case of hatcheries - such as the one at Thornton Creek - things are further complicated by the fact that the salmon's internal GPS can't distinguish that they actually originated in the scruffy blue shed a few tens of metres from the creek, and so they assume that their birthplace was at the top of the adjacent waterfall. Unfortunately the falls are too high for them to leap up, and so they are condemned to live out their last few days the plunge pool at its base, from where they futilely attempt to leap up the falls.

You might think that it would be hard to empathise with a fish, but I found it quite harrowing to watch their valiant attempts to achieve the impossible. In the process, they become more and more exhausted and progressively more battered as they bash into rocks and boulders. Pointless though it might have been, I wanted to jump in and give these masochistic animals a hand in making it back to where their fate have programmed them to go, even though I knew full well that they were doomed to die within days.

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The Thornton Creek salmon hatchery is a mecca for wildlife because it's the equivalent of a local takeaway restaurant for scavenging animals and birds.

Salmon are genetically programmed to return to their place of birth when they reach breeding maturity, where they spawn and then die. In the case of this hatchery, what their internal GPS can't distinguish is that they actually originated in the scruffy blue shed a few tens of metres from the creek, and so they assume that their birthplace was at the top of the Thornton Creek Falls. Unfortunately the falls are too high for them to leap up, and so they are condemned to live out their last few days the plunge pool at its base, from where they futilely attempt to leap as they become progressively more battered and exhausted.

At which point they are netted by the hatchery staff, who harvest the eggs and sperm from which to create the next generation. The salmon carcasses are tossed onto the stream bank, and serve as a magnet for birdlife as well as bears and other scavengers. On the two occasions that we visited, there was a ruck of quarrelsome seagulls, a magnificent heron, a juvenile bald eagle in attendance, and the photographic opportunities were magnificent.