When BC Marine Trails asked me to check out the Mediterranean paddling scene and compare it to the marine trails in our own backyard, I was reluctant. Europe is too hot, too crowded and too expensive. Who in their right mind would want to go there, for sea kayaking of all things?
I raise the prospect with my better half, expecting her to turn it down immediately, but she surprises me. “We should go”, she says.
“But, but, what about our paddling plans for the summer here in BC?”, I ask her. “A week or two in the wilderness paddling a marine trail. Windswept sandy beaches with no other people on them. Falling asleep in our tent each night to the sound of crashing surf. Eagles, sea otters, sea lions, orca. Fresh-caught salmon poached in white wine for dinner. Ice cream on the way home?”
“Been there, done that”, she says.
And so we pack our suitcases, catch a flight to Barcelona, and dutifully begin our Mediterranean paddling assignment.
SPAIN’S COSTA BRAVA
We begin our journey on the sunny Catalonian coast of Costa Brava, between Barcelona, Spain and Collioure, France. We head northeast parallelling the Cami de Ronda hiking trail, once used by Spanish armies to intercept marauding pirates, and now one of the world’s best inn-to-inn coastal hiking adventures.1 Along the way, we plan to stop in Tossa de Mar, Sant Feliu de Guixols, the ancient port city of Empuries for its Roman ruins, and Cadaqués, where we can visit the quirky Salvador Dali House Museum in nearby Port Lligat.
The beach in Barcelona offers a stark contrast to the places we paddle in British Columbia.
There are no long-distance marine trails here. No empty wind-swept beaches with wild camping. No wildlife other than a few gulls. Instead, we witness a curious migration—not of wildlife headed for northern feeding grounds, but of 20 stand-up paddleboarders walking in tight formation carrying their boards from the rental shop, across a crowded pedestrian promenade, and down to the beach.
We marvel at a beach volleyball match in which players use only soccer kicks and soccer headers, never their arms. The phenomenal skill involved reflects the intense soccer culture across all of Spain and here in Barcelona in particular.
The kayaks we see are all the rudderless, sit-on-top variety, suitable for brief day paddles but not for longer distances with camping gear. But then, who needs rudders when you’re only paddling a short distance? Who needs a spray skirt when the ocean is so warm? And who needs camping gear when resort style hotels are so plentiful and relatively affordable?
As we settle into our journey, we begin to see what sets the Costa Brava apart—sunshine more than 300 days a year! A warm ocean to swim in. Interesting coves on a human scale, instead of the featureless beaches lined with Florida-style condos you see in many other parts of the world. Some of the coves are pleasingly undeveloped. Others have seawall promenades lined with tempting cafes offering Seafood Paella and a fruity Sangria or Rioja wine. Every morning we pass groups of open-water swimmers headed out for morning exercise. And everywhere we go there is a palpably welcoming culture that joyfully celebrates water play. Paddling, cliff jumping, spear fishing in camouflage wetsuits, sailing, kite boarding—you name it, and someone is probably having fun doing it here.
Ashore we find centuries-old Roman ruins in Empuries, historic castles and forts, and traffic-free old towns decked with colourful flowers. The breeze off the Med is fresh, and the air is filled with birdsong.
In Cadaqués, a day trip takes paddlers from the white-washed old town, around a headland, to the quirky Salvador Dali House Museum in Port Lligat.
FRANCE
A short distance across the border into France, but still culturally in Catalonia, we come to the historic town of Collioure. Again, we find a welcoming sunny climate, seawall promenades lined with cafes, and amazing food. Again, there is a historic castle and church, open water swimmers, and many sit-on-top kayakers out for satisfying day paddles.
But there is no wilderness here, no long-distance marine trails, and not much in the way of wildlife either above ground or undersea.
When we reach the Camargue Regional Nature Park—a marshy river delta where we hope to find wild horses and flamingos—instead we find too many mosquitos. It is also uncomfortably hot, so we move on to the quaint waterfront town of Cassis, just east of Marseille. There, we have a short paddle in sit-on-top kayaks to Calanque d’En-vau for an exciting day of cliff jumping, open water swimming and, yes, ‘beach’.
Having seen the new Barbie movie, I’ve been forewarned that ‘beach’ is now a verb. It no longer means passively lying on a beach towel. Instead, ‘beach’ is an intense competition amongst Kens, sometimes escalating into open warfare against other Kens, for the attention of nearby Barbies. I’m apprehensive that at any time, a group of rowdy French Kens wearing too-tight Speedos might challenge me to a ‘beach off’.
Not one to be easily intimidated, I put on my own black Speedo. Take that France!
The sight of my middle-aged dad-bod leaping from cliffs seems to scare off the locals and the morning passes without incident. By late afternoon, a parade of French Kens begins leaving the Calanque in droves. My wife thinks they’re returning kayaks before the rental store closes. I prefer to think it is French Kens realizing that competition against this Canadian kayaking alpha is futile, and that I’m King of the Beach. Without Ryan Gosling’s good looks, fur coat, and muscled chest, perhaps, but King nonetheless.
At my wife’s insistence, I have edited out a series of delightful photos of my Speedo-clad body gracefully leaping from the limestone cliffs lining the Calanque. Readers will just have to picture it in their imagination.
Still pumped from my victory at ‘beach’, we stop in Cassis on the way back to our hotel. There, we sample mouth-wateringly delicious Cassis-flavoured gelato, served by a woman who’s first name is actually Cassis.
After savouring lovely Cassis’ cassis-flavoured gelato in Cassis, we head inland for a double-header of historic arches. On the first day, we paddle down the Gard River and under the aqueduct at the Pont du Gard. Built two thousand years ago to supply the city of Nimes with water, the aqueduct is now a World Heritage Site. The largest arch has a span of almost 90 feet (27 meters), making it the widest arch still standing from the Roman era.
Paddling under the arch, and then returning later in the day to swim under it, proves to be a surprisingly evocative experience. I’m impressed by the skill of the stone masons who pieced this together from cut stone blocks without mortar. Coming from a young city like Vancouver, I’m amazed the aqueduct is still standing after so many years. I’m awed by the natural beauty of the site, the feel of the sun on my skin, the sound of happy children swimming in the river’s gentle current. And I feel incredibly grateful that I can be here to experience this, today.
For our second stone arch, we head the next day for Vallon-Pont-d’Arc. This popular canoeing, kayaking, and camping area is heavily visited by tourists. A day-long paddle down the Ardeche River takes us under the Pont d’Arc, where we stop for a picnic. The natural stone arch here measures 59 meters wide and 34 meters high and was formed 500,000 years ago when the river broke through a narrow stone escarpment.
ITALY’S CINQUE TERRE
From France, we continue our journey eastward to Italy’s Cinque Terre. Although visually stunning and blessed with great food, we find the Cinque Terre completely overrun with tourists and power boats, making the prospect of even a day paddle unappealing.
What you can’t tell from the picture below is that 20 people are crowded shoulder to shoulder along a fence to my left, and another 20 people along the fence to my right, all taking exactly this same picture from a famous viewpoint, and all trying to create the illusion of a serene landscape with no other people around.
Crowds are just not our thing, so we make a quick exit from Italy and move on to—Croatia.
CROATIA
Island-hopping by fast ferry from mainland Split to the islands of Hvar, Korcula, and Mljet before finishing in the walled city of Dubrovnik, it quickly becomes clear that Croatia’s coastal archipelago is my kind of place—for short day-paddles.
Croatia feels like a sun-kissed paradise. Great food. Friendly people. Beautiful beaches, although most are rocky instead of sand. Historic walled cities. Car-free old towns and seawalls lined with cafes. The Adriatic Sea here is the clearest water anywhere in the Mediterranean—a shimmering, intoxicating blue richer and more intense than any I have seen around the Med. It is a colour that acts like a siren call, enticing me to go for a paddle or open-water swim.
Unfortunately, planning a long-distance self-guided paddle through Croatia’s island archipelago is not easy. There is no wild camping. Lining up overnight accommodation along a connected paddling route can be hard. Unlike British Columbia, Croatia does not have marine trails established under a Coast Guard-approved safety mandate governing the safe distance between stopping points.2 In Croatia, distances between stopping points are quite long with no bail-out points along the way for safety. Winds are an ever-present danger in all seasons and summer heat can be unbearable.
We are not able to explore Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast, but distances between stops appear to be shorter there. Several tour companies offer island-hopping inn-to-inn tours along the Dalmatian Coast, including one offered by British Columbia’s Tofino Expeditions.
Hmmmm. Maybe next year?
CONCLUSION
So how do Spain, France, and Croatia stack up against British Columbia’s marine trails in the contest for world’s best paddling destinations?
It depends.
If you like 300+ days of sunshine, postcard perfect beaches, sparkling azure seas under a Mediterranean breeze, Roman ruins, castles, historic old towns, seawall promenades lined with cafes serving sangria, paella and gelato, nude sunbathing, exotic birdsong, and day paddles in rudderless sit-on-top kayaks, then the Costa Brava coast of Spain is hard to beat. However, when the beaches are crowded with holidaymakers, don’t expect to find untouched wilderness or encounter wildlife in its natural habitat. And forget about long distance paddles comparable to the marine trails in British Columbia.
If you like jumping from limestone cliffs, family paddles along tame rivers and don’t mind crowds, Southern France has many great options.
If you like Spanish charm but prefer Venetian-style architecture on an island-hopping inn-to-inn paddling adventure, then Croatia is a top pick.
But if your aesthetic preferences lean toward wild sandy beaches lined with gnarled Cedar and Sitka Spruce, long-distance paddles in kayaks with spray skirts, and camping gear tucked safely below deck in a waterproof hatch, then British Columbia’s marine trails let you journey through some of the most spectacular and remote wilderness landscapes on earth.
If you like sharing your paddle with majestic eagles soaring overhead, sea otters floating lazily in kelp forests, orca breaching the surface of the ocean, sea lions perched atop rocky outcrops—and if you’re lucky (or unlucky) perhaps a bear or wolf—then British Columbia’s marine trails offer some of the best wildlife viewing on earth.
If you’re curious about the culture and history of local First Nations—and don’t mind a little fog and rain—then British Columbia can’t be beat.
In a nutshell, British Columbia’s marine trails combine the world’s longest marine trail network with the most campsites, the most route possibilities, the most wilderness, and the best viewing of wildlife in their natural habitat. Along our rugged coastline, nature takes center stage. Unplugged from city life, out here you feel a connection to the natural world in your heart, and in the depths of your soul—that’s pure kayaking magic.
If anything, my trip to Mediterranean Europe3 has broadened my view of the possibilities available to modern paddlers and taught me to look at them as a sort of Venn diagram. Other parts of the world have their own niche. Our unique niche in British Columbia is marked by the intersection of wilderness, wildlife, First Nations, and long-distance paddles with manageable distances between stops.
Whether you prefer sunny waterplay along the Mediterranean coast or paddling adventures into the deep wild, the world of kayaking is as diverse as the paddlers themselves, and there’s a place on the water for everyone.
1 For details, see the Cami de Ronda website, and this free e-book describing the Cami De Ronda walk in considerably more detail.
2 On British Columbia Marine Trails, distances between campsites of 8 nautical miles or less are qualified as safest, distances of 8-12 nautical miles between campsites represent a safety gap that could be improved, and distances greater than 12 nautical miles are considered unsafe! All of these distances assume favourable weather conditions and that paddlers possess the necessary skills and experience appropriate for the waters they are traversing.
3 For illustrative purposes, this article combines trips completed over several years. Doing it all in a single trip is possible but would be expensive. We were not paid by BC Marine Trails for any part of these trips.
