Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
Gourmet kayaking ought to be an oxymoron. One activity sings of a starchy white cotton napkin, a hunk of buttery meat and the warm satisfaction of fine conversation and a full belly.
The other features mouthfuls of salt water, a perpetual twizzling of the shoulders and the terrifying dependence on your own puny musculature to pull yourself free from a capsized kayak after a close encounter with a supertanker.
There seems no obvious connection between a gourmet experience and a kayaking one, except in the land of implausible pairings: British Columbia.
The west coast Canadian province got the 'British' bit of its name from Queen Victoria and the 'Columbia' part from its enormous river honouring the Genovese explorer. It is now making a name for itself as a culinary destination, which explains why I was rotating my Twiglet arms in a futile attempt to keep abreast of three kayaks powered by beefy Canadians.
As an entree to the gourmet charms of Canada, it wasn't promising. The only drizzle was not balsamic but from the sky and James Bray, the dynamic Canadian chef leading the trip, had only to dab his paddle in the water to disappear over the horizon as fast as an orca (killer whales love the Pacific waters off BC).
James was followed by four Vancouverites. One couple, Simon and Sarah, had a daily gym habit. The other possessed some kind of kayaking diploma. Both couples were also in double kayaks, which seemed a bit tough on the little guy from the old country - me - who had never kayaked before.
"This bit is going to be fast and dirty," explained James, spinning lithely in his kayak to face me. "What do you mean by dirty?" I asked, unsure whether it was my kayak or my lip that was trembling more.
Gourmet kayaking trips pair two things that BC - derided by the rest of Canada as ridiculously laid-back - does exceptionally well. BC folk don't just quietly drink in their lake and mountain scenery: they have to eat it.
Once this would have been a mouthful of snow when falling on the ski fields but now it means drinking the province's boutique beverages and guzzling its sablefish with sea asparagus.
There wasn't much sign of the gourmet bit in the first few hours spluttering through the Pacific waters around the Gulf Islands, off Vancouver Island's east coast. But the sun came out - the west coast is notorious for its rain - and with it Canada's wildlife. A beady-eyed raccoon fiddled with a fish, Gollum-like, on the foreshore until a bald eagle swooped in and seized its meal. Seals popped curious heads out of the waves.
Our evening destination was the Valdes Island. We slid on to a beach of white shells and James heaved rocks around to create a chef's bench and opened his kayak hatches to reveal all kinds of miraculous equipment, including two gas burners. Then, no less miraculously, he conjured up a meal of seared and steamed smoked sablefish, baby turnips, carrots, roast potatoes and a spring salad.
James has cooked in a number of BC restaurants and reckons farmers are the new celebrity chefs, particularly on Vancouver Island. Niche producers on this rugged 285-mile-long island are wooed by restaurants; their ciders and fresh veg keenly sought out at the farmers' markets. Nearly all the food James brings to cook is local - from cheese to hazelnuts - but not that local: I had fantasies about catching our own fish but nature reserve regulations mean that he brings along all his ingredients, ingeniously packed into his kayak.
As we chat over supper my fellow gourmet kayakers soon demonstrate a real knowledge of local cuisine and a willingness to champion new and traditional local independent producers.
Hands tingled warmly after our first day at sea. In my tent pitched on a grassy bank overlooking the empty beach, I fell asleep in exactly one second.
Uninhabited islands bring out the explorer in you, especially in scenery as grand as the Gulf Islands. We began day two on foot, twisting through a forest full of giant slugs, scrambling up a spectacular cliff to get an almost-aerial view of the islands. James rustled up some smoked salmon and guacamole sandwiches for lunch and then we jumped in our kayaks for a modest four-hour paddle.
We headed back to camp for supper, where we agreed that James's duck with lentils and a fantastic reduction, was the best meal yet. It was slow food and it disappeared fast.
As I was washing my face in the sea the next morning, a river otter joined me on the beach. Fired up by another delicious breakfast we began the long paddle past more sea eagles and raccoons and back to the jetty on Vancouver Island. Hunger pangs, fired by James's enthusiasm for local produce, drove me into the interior of the island where the joy of more long, slow meals awaited.
l More info: edible-britishcolumbia.com, britishcolumbia.travel and tourismvancouver.com
