S4, E10: How a Canadian Grizzly Bear Transformed My Life

In the tenth episode of Travel Tales by Dinogo, season four, we venture to the western coast of Canada, home to the Great Bear Rainforest. Here, Kevin Smith, the captain of a boat and owner of Maple Leaf Adventures, is dedicated to regenerative tourism that benefits this iconic region.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene, host: I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Travel Tales by Dinogo. In each episode, we hear from travelers recounting journeys that have changed their lives. This season, I’m also engaging with these storytellers about significant travel inquiries. Although I’m not actually meeting them in person; I’m recording from my houseboat in Sausalito, but you get the gist.

This week, we’re off to bear country. Located in Western Canada along the coast of British Columbia is a remarkable area known as the Great Bear Rainforest. As its name suggests, bears roam this wild habitat, alongside a variety of wildlife and humans. It’s a unique destination for numerous reasons, as you’ll discover shortly. Guiding us through this extraordinary region is Kevin Smith, who was raised on an island in British Columbia and has devoted his life to exploring and now safeguarding this environment.

Kevin runs an expedition company named Maple Leaf Adventures, which offers travelers weeklong (or longer) excursions in Canada and Alaska. You can embark on a journey to places like Haida Gwaii, Desolation Sound, or through the Gulf Islands. However, one of their most sought-after trips is to the Great Bear Rainforest, a destination that holds a particularly cherished place in Kevin’s heart.

I first encountered Kevin at a TED Talk event organized in collaboration with Destination Canada. He shared his inspiring journey of how he managed to save his business and numerous others in his area during the pandemic by initiating the world’s largest coastal cleanup. His mission, business practices, and deep affection for his homeland left a lasting impression that still resonates with me today. Just a quick note before we dive in: last week, my cat interrupted our conversation, and this week, construction noises disturbed Kevin. Such is the reality of podcasting from home. However, they prompted a fascinating question, so we decided to keep those moments in. Alright, let’s hear from Kevin.

Kevin, welcome to Travel Tales.

Kevin Smith, owner of Maple Leaf Adventures: Thank you, Aislyn.

Aislyn: It’s great to have you with us. It’s been some time since we last connected. You’ve been traveling extensively.

Kevin: Indeed, I’ve been quite busy with various tourism-related activities taking me all over the map.

Aislyn: It’s really exciting to see so many people invested and enthusiastic about your work and accomplishments. Could you share where you are at the moment?

Kevin: Of course, I’m currently in my home office located in Victoria, British Columbia.

Aislyn: That’s such a stunning region. Have you always had a passion for the outdoors?

Kevin: Absolutely, I feel very fortunate. It’s interesting how your upbringing and the experiences your parents provide shape your life. As a child, you don’t fully grasp how fortunate you are until later on, right?

Aislyn: Absolutely, that’s so true. You were introduced to the water and nature from an early age.

Kevin: Yes, I grew up surrounded by water, navigating the B.C. coast in our family’s small boats, embracing a marine lifestyle up and down the coast. I was born and raised on a charming Gulf Island called Salt Spring Island, which some people might recognize.

Aislyn: I’ve definitely heard of it. What was life like on Salt Spring?

Kevin: Salt Spring was truly the perfect setting for a childhood. We had a small hobby farm there, and from a very young age, I had the freedom to explore the island. My only rules were to be home for dinner and to avoid getting on any ferries. I had countless adventures that I think parents today would find shocking—my free-range upbringing allowed for quite a bit of exploration. I learned valuable lessons about navigation and safety, like climbing mountains only to discover it was much colder on the other side, prompting me to head back to the family farm.

Aislyn: That sounds amazing! I love that one of your rules was to avoid the ferry. Did you ever break that rule?

Kevin: You see, growing up on a Gulf Island meant there were three different ferries connecting us to the mainland, Vancouver Island, and other Gulf Islands. However, that rule about avoiding ferries became less significant over time since I had my own little boats to explore beyond the island. Plus, my wonderful parents would take my brother and me on many adventures as we cruised along the coast.

Aislyn: That’s amazing! And now, you’re playing a key role in preserving this coastline and showcasing it to other travelers. As listeners will discover, your love for the Great Bear Rainforest shines through. Why do you believe people should spend time there? What would you say to encourage them to join you for a day or even a week?

Kevin: Well, it would definitely be a week since that’s the duration of our trips. I appreciate your understanding; I can get easily distracted. That’s the challenge of being a bear guide and captain—I notice everything happening around me, so I’m intentionally not gazing out the window right now.

To answer your question about the Great Bear Rainforest: it’s truly special on a global scale. It’s a place where night still falls dark due to the sparse population centers, consisting mainly of small villages and few residents.

It’s incredibly serene. The rainforest is massive, roughly the size of Ireland, and it’s untouched by roads. Thanks to the foresight of planners, particularly the Coastal First Nations, large portions of it have been designated as a conservancy, ensuring that significant tracts remain protected.

I always explain to people that when we immerse ourselves in nature, we’re observing a critical control in the grand experiment of our planet, which includes industrialization and development that often overwhelm the natural world. No scientist would conduct a major experiment without a control to compare results against.

These protected areas, or conservancies, serve as the control in our planetary experiments. The Great Bear Rainforest is vital because it will guide future generations on how to restore our ecosystems; it remains fully functional, with all its systems operating as they should.

Aislyn: It’s both beautiful and frightening that we need a control. Hearing you say that gives me chills. I found what you just mentioned intriguing, especially since the noise in my background distracted you, and you said that as a guide, you’re always aware of your environment.

Is that because you’re constantly on the lookout for bears, which can be hard to spot? How do you perceive the world around you?

Kevin: As a guide and ship captain, I maintain a keen awareness of everything moving around me. I pay attention to all sounds, whether they’re familiar or new—if I hear something unfamiliar, I feel compelled to investigate. This heightened awareness is especially important when I’m leading people into an estuary to respectfully observe bears.

Bears are stunning creatures, and they aren’t inherently dangerous. However, you definitely don’t want to catch a bear off guard. As a guide leading a group of 6 to 10 people through an estuary, I’m at the forefront with my heightened awareness, carefully watching and listening to ensure everyone’s safety. My goal is to avoid any surprises for the bears, especially if there are mothers with cubs. Ideally, I aim to spot wildlife from a distance, observing how they respond to our presence as respectful visitors in their habitat.

Aislyn: That nicely transitions to another topic listeners will hear about. You discuss regenerative tourism in your story. Why do you believe it’s vital for our industry?

Kevin: Regenerative tourism emphasizes our responsibility as travelers to strike a balance between the energy we expend to enjoy these beautiful places and the effort to give back where we can. As travelers, we can understand the locations we visit, advocate for them, or even improve them simply by our presence. There are numerous examples of how this exchange can take place, and I think travelers are increasingly recognizing the importance of this balance. They should seek out travel providers that have effectively found ways to facilitate this meaningful interaction.

Aislyn: I love that approach, and you truly embody it. I can’t wait for everyone to hear your story.

Kevin: The first time I witnessed a grizzly bear lying down to nurse her cub in front of me, my life changed. While she nourished her daughter, she also ignited my profound love for her and her home, the Great Bear Rainforest. Certain moments solidify your commitment to a cause, and this was certainly one of those pivotal moments for me.

Picture a vibrant rainforest valley framed by towering 2,000-foot black granite mountains that rise steeply from the fjord. It was 2005, and I found myself at the valley’s entrance with my guests, aboard a small boat in the estuary. It was pure, untamed nature, with no cities in sight for over 300 miles.

Delicate waterfalls cascaded a thousand feet down the cliffs, splashing against the rocks before vanishing into the sea. A grizzly bear appeared on the opposite bank and swam across the creek mouth right in front of us, heading towards a patch of sedge beneath the rock face. Reluctantly, she urged her cub to follow her. Aware of our presence, she settled back and allowed her daughter to climb onto her belly and nurse.

At that time, bears like her were being hunted for sport in the nearby valleys. If she ventured there, she risked becoming a trophy rug for some hunter. Fortunately, thanks to the community I belong to, this valley was safeguarded. Although she wasn’t my first source of inspiration, she played a crucial role in my transformative journey—an ongoing quest spanning decades to explore and protect the Great Bear Rainforest.

The Great Bear is among the largest untouched rainforests remaining on Earth. Stretching approximately 300 miles from north to south, it extends from the heights of the Coast Mountain Range to the offshore islands in the west. Encompassing 15.8 million acres—about the size of Ireland—it can only be accessed by water. The area feels wild, characterized by fjords and ancient forests. However, it also holds a rich human history, having been a thriving home for First Nations people for millennia beyond reckoning.

I operate a regenerative travel company here named Maple Leaf Adventures. Previously, I worked as a backcountry park ranger and a teacher. I consider my life’s mission to be using tourism as a means to enhance the world. We take guests on a week-long journey aboard an expedition vessel through the Great Bear Rainforest, akin to a waterborne sMytouri, exploring a Galápagos-like environment filled with forested islands, fjords, whales, and bears.

We disembark several times a day to venture ashore and explore. At Maple Leaf, we own our vessels, which have become well-known personalities within the coastal community. Our dedicated crew takes care of these boats, and they also host our guests alongside other local guides. Every dollar spent by visitors directly supports local businesses, from the food store in Kitimat to the bear-viewing guide in Hartley Bay, and even the small regional airport in Bella Bella.

Maple Leaf Adventures was born in the late 1980s as a true grassroots operation. It was established by an inspiring individual named Brian, who envisioned sharing the stunning beauty of this region with others while also committing to its preservation.

Brian, a float plane pilot, often soared over the British Columbia coast, witnessing the rapid industrial clear-cut logging that was taking place at that time. Logging companies were aggressively cutting down trees and exporting the timber overseas.

Despite this, the area remained vast, with extensive regions untouched by logging. Its immense power and beauty resonate deeply, leaving a lasting impression. Brian and Maple Leaf Adventures aimed to reveal this splendor—something to cherish rather than destroy. Maple Leaf evolved into a reputable tour operator for those seeking a profound connection to the land. Their goal was never to present a perfect facade for paying tourists while concealing the harsh reality of the ecological destruction. Instead, Maple Leaf carved out a niche in sharing this truth. One of their offerings was called "the endangered coast," inviting visitors to witness the region before it disappeared and to play a part in its preservation.

This is where my journey intertwined with that of Maple Leaf Adventures. I was invited to participate in negotiations regarding a land use plan that would shape the future of the entire Great Bear Rainforest area. Collaborating with the emerging tourism industry, particularly with Brian and Maple Leaf Adventures, I gained insights on what needed to be negotiated for effective protection.

It may sound mundane, this land use planning process, but it’s driven by a deep passion for nature, represented by skilled negotiators from organizations such as Forest Ethics, Sierra Club, Rainforest Action Network, and Greenpeace. It also reflects the complex realities of the local economy.

By the third or fourth year of negotiations, it was clear to everyone involved that we needed a comprehensive approach: we had to protect the entire ecosystem while finding alternatives to clear-cutting based on conservation principles.

I vividly recall a week toward the end of my work on that plan when I had the conservation negotiators onboard Maple Leaf, our iconic schooner that continues to be our flagship.

We were situated in an estuary that remained under threat, surrounded by wildflowers, bear trails, and a salmon-rich stream, with mist hovering above the ground at dawn. At one point, someone encouraged us to take a dip in the river—naked! It was brisk, being fall and the fish were running. The river had the distinct taste of salmon.

Merran, one of the conservationists who joined us, was beaming. She understood the impact it had on us and remarked, "You can’t swim in this river and remain impartial." And she was absolutely right—you really can’t.

The vision established in that land use plan motivated individuals to contribute to the initial portion of what would grow into a $120 million fund aimed at supporting local communities in their shift from logging to conservation-oriented enterprises.

I, too, wanted to contribute to that brighter future. I was deeply inspired by Brian’s work at Maple Leaf and, as it happened, he was looking to retire. So, in 2001, I stepped in to take the helm.

As time passed, we began to ponder: What else could we do? Merely being sustainable didn’t seem sufficient anymore. We had implemented every sustainable practice we could. We joined 1 Percent for the Planet, partnered with Travelers Against Plastic, and engaged in a green tourism pilot program aimed at measuring tourism's impact and minimizing waste to the fullest extent.

Thus, we chose to evolve toward a model of regenerative travel—one that ensures we are actively improving the environment while we are here. Our inaugural major project focused on properly recognizing the rights and title of the Coastal First Nations. From the land use planning process, I realized that as a business, I was obligated to pay taxes to Canada and B.C. to operate, and I thought, "I should also contribute taxes to the Nations so they have funds to safeguard this area."

I approached them with the idea, saying, "We’re bringing visitors into your territory without extracting anything or leaving any pollution behind. Our operations are completely sustainable. We’d like to honor your history in these lands and waters, and perhaps that could help fund your efforts to protect it."

In 2002, we formalized our first protocol agreement with the Gitga’at Nation, shortly followed by one with the Kitasoo/Xai’xais. This was unprecedented; no one had ever reached out to them for such collaboration before.

This initiative fostered a great deal of trust. At that time, these communities were still primarily engaged in resource extraction rather than tourism, but this began to shift. The $120 million fund facilitated their transition from an extraction-based economy to one focused on conservation.

Together, we championed the concept of adventures through the fjords and islands. We committed to educating visitors about the local wildlife and bringing them into the communities to learn from local guides about the human connections that have existed here for millennia. We also united in our efforts to protect the area, halting the trophy hunting of grizzly bears, and gradually, the Great Bear Rainforest began to gain recognition as an extraordinary destination.

The Kitasoo/Xai’xais developed their own tourism program, while members of the Gitga’at Nation initiated a bear-viewing business. We formed partnerships with both and invested in two additional boats, mirroring the efforts of one of our colleagues. High-value, low-volume tourism became a cornerstone of the conservation economy.

And then, the COVID-19 pandemic struck.

When the lockdowns commenced, tourism was hit first and hardest.

To provide some context, we typically book all our trips a year in advance. Throughout the winter, we invest substantial funds into preparing the ships for the upcoming season. Therefore, COVID posed a significant challenge. Our guests were unable to embark on their trips, and we had to negotiate postponements in hopes of eventually resuming operations. Maple Leaf Adventures wasn’t alone in facing these hardships; many similar businesses in the area also suffered. During the pandemic, all these companies found themselves with no income and substantial fixed expenses, forcing us to devise survival strategies.

One day in March 2020, I proposed an idea to the other business owners: "Hey, I’ve got a concept!"

Together, we had nine expedition vessels, 18 shore boats, 110 crew members, and extensive knowledge of the coastline. I envisioned utilizing these incredible resources in the Great Bear Rainforest to clear the industrial marine debris that was tangled in beach logs or discarded at the forest's edge. All the businesses agreed to this plan; everyone was on board.

We presented our plan to the Coastal First Nations for their permission and involvement (they agreed), and subsequently, the provincial government, along with the B.C. government, launched the Clean Coast, Clean Waters Initiative to fund our proposal. By late July, we had received preliminary approval but were still waiting for the official contract from the government to finance this unprecedented expedition.

However, we were racing against time. Winter storms could begin as early as late September, and we were heading to the outer coast, a treacherous and exposed area. We needed to complete our work before the weather could hinder us. Therefore, we hired our entire crew at our own expense, orchestrating an impressive logistical operation that involved a tug and barge, a helicopter, and more. We set out as a fleet of nine ships, traveling together for the first time. The official announcement of support came only after we had started our journey, north of Cape Caution. My wife was the sole representative in Victoria for the press conference; she stood on the empty wharf, our boats already departed, reading a statement about the significance of this project.

The Great Bear Rainforest is a breathtaking natural wonder. Yet, following winter storms, certain beaches became landing spots where we discovered what the sea had washed ashore: debris from international fishing fleets, including lines, nets, and floats—mostly made from nylon or plastic—as well as trash drifting from across the Pacific and countless water bottles. It was astounding to see so much waste in such a remote area.

What stands out most from those extraordinary marine debris expeditions during the pandemic is this: Love fuels resilience.

For six weeks, we navigated hundreds of miles along the coastline. We had a rough plan mapped out, and each morning, the captains would convene to finalize the day's specific locations and projects. After enjoying hot coffee and breakfast, the crew donned their outerwear and set off to the designated shorelines. We might visit a beach littered with fish floats and dragger balls or rocky areas with tide pools collecting plastic debris, often topped with bands of logs ensnared in massive fishing nets and heavy ropes. We’d lift, cut, and transport this refuse to our sorting pile, where we’d categorize it, bag it, weigh it, document it, label it, and note the coordinates for the heli-lift operation later on.

The physical demands of the expedition were immense. The sea conditions and tides dictated our progress; at every captains' meeting, we reminded ourselves that our primary focus was the safety of our crews and vessels. This was not always an easy task.

We found new ways to innovate daily, using long logs as levers and stout, short logs as fulcrums to extract buried lines and colossal nets. It felt like we were playing with physics, much like children at the beach, and soon enough, we became quite adept at it.

There were times when we’d spot the top of a net peeking through the sand and think, “Alright, let’s pull this out.” You'd be amazed at how six people could dig a hole the size of an SUV before lunchtime. After relentless digging, pulling, and cutting pieces away, we would finally free the net, chopping it into manageable sections for the helicopter to lift away.

I can still recall the sound of plastic water bottles crunching beneath our feet. In total, we collected 88,000 discarded bottles that had drifted across the Pacific. We also removed coffin-sized blocks of Styrofoam that the strongest winter storms had cast ashore.

Much of the debris consisted of enormous, industrial-grade equipment from international fishing operations. Once trapped in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, all of it ultimately broke free and washed up on our shores.

Yet, not a single person gave up. Each member of our 110-strong crew was driven by a profound love for this coastline, which sustains our very existence. Our frustration with the litter spurred us on, but it was our deep affection for the misty rainforest, the creeks nurturing salmon, wolves, and bears, and ultimately supporting us—that love kept us moving forward.

We all took significant risks because we believed deeply in the necessity of this work. It wasn’t about profit; our expenses were covered, which kept our crew employed and our ships operational. This enabled us to undertake something monumental and profoundly impactful for this coastline.

In 2021, we conducted another six-week cleanup. These two cleanups not only saved our businesses but also removed over 2 million pounds of marine debris from the outer coast during the two years. It was the largest coastal cleanup of its kind.

Throughout both cleanups, every day and at dinner each night, we consistently discussed the same theme: While cleaning up is important, it simply isn’t enough.

If the influx of plastics into the ocean continues unchecked, and if the fishing fleets remain indifferent, all our efforts will amount to little. Action is imperative—I envision a future where no coastal cleanup is ever necessary again.

I definitely possess the explorer gene. I've spent much of my life uncovering hidden archipelagos and discovering waterfalls that few have seen. I've dedicated thousands of days to the Great Bear Rainforest, and I’ve made it a personal commitment to visit at least one brand-new location I’ve never explored on each trip.

In nearly 20 years since I first encountered her, I often reflect on that mother grizzly bear. She was likely five years old when she lay down and nursed her cub in front of me. I have returned to see her many times since, observing her with various cubs over the years. It's heartbreaking to think she may be nearing the end of her life, but her legacy is immense. The trust she showed me that day has influenced me and countless others who have fought for her and her home over the years.

I also consider the revitalized Coastal First Nations, who will undoubtedly shape all future decisions regarding this region. I think of the guests who experience this coastline aboard our Maple Leaf ships. I hope—no, I’m confident—that some of those individuals will become advocates for her and the bears that follow.

Aislyn: That was Kevin Smith. We’ll include a link to his TED Talk in our show notes, along with the website for Maple Leaf Adventures. Their expedition season kicks off again in April, featuring many exciting trips. I particularly appreciate that their fleet of three ships offers a more intimate experience—capping at 24 guests on the largest vessel. Fall is the peak season for wildlife, which coincides with many of their Great Bear Rainforest excursions. We’ll also share their social media accounts, but be warned: they post stunning photos that make it hard to resist planning a visit.

Next week, we’ll return with the season finale: an interview with Jeff Jenkins, host of the Nat Geo show Never Say Never. After that, we’ll be back in 2024: starting in January with our sister podcast, Unpacked, which aims to enhance your travel experience, followed by season five of Travel Tales in spring 2024.

Craving more Travel Tales? Head to Dinogo.com/podcast, and don’t forget to follow us on Instagram and X. We’re @Dinogomedia. If you enjoyed today’s adventure, I hope you’ll return for more incredible stories. Subscribing makes it easy! You can find Travel Tales by Dinogo on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your preferred podcast platform. And please rate and review the show—it helps us secure amazing guests like today’s, and it helps fellow travelers discover us.

You’ve been listening to Travel Tales, brought to you by Dinogo Media. The podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

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