Off the charts diving on Vancouver Island
A lifetime’s worth of superb diving awaits adventurous divers in the cool, current-swept waters surrounding British Columbia’s Vancouver Island. I am well into my fourth decade of exploring the many scuba hotspots around this 285-mile-long (459-kilometer) island snugged up against Canada’s rugged western shore.
On many expeditions I stop by Port McNeill, an old favorite with stellar dives hidden among the fog-shrouded islands bristling with cedars and hemlocks wedged like scattered puzzle pieces between northern Vancouver Island and the mountainous mainland. The reefs, walls, and pinnacles underwater there boast exquisitely painted invertebrate mosaics and host fascinating and photogenic fishes.
As a bonus, charismatic megafauna of the furry, feathered, and flippered varieties are routinely present above the waves, yet there are no crowds — at least not in the usual sense.
Biodiversity and Density
The waters were a bit congested on one visit to Port McNeill. We had just pulled up alongside the kelp bed at Northeast Pearse on a foggy fall day when the water erupted 50 feet (15 meters) from our boat. Three humpback whales emerged from the gray surface on their sides with their cavernous mouths agape.
Seawater streamed forth as maws clamped shut over curtains of black, feathery baleen. A few seconds later, their explosive, trumpeting exhalations sounded unmistakably triumphant. They fed with gusto, scooping up something tasty just beneath the surface right outside the kelp. The whales proceeded to dive back under, submerging out of sight for a few moments before breaking the surface again to continue their lunch on the lunge.
In the tricksy, misty half-light, it all seemed surreal. I held my breath in shock and awe for much of the encounter. Our skipper explained that the humpbacks were feasting on clouds of krill. Since the whales were currently occupying our dive site, we would courteously yield to their mass tonnage, wait our turn, and allow them to finish snacking before we jumped in.
When I finally got underwater, I heard happy, hungry whale music somewhere in the deep, likely not too far away. Though the ethereal soundtrack reminded me of diving in Hawaiʻi, the 48°F (9°C) water, 40-foot (12-m) visibility, and the marine life species all around me proved that I was nowhere near Alohaville but instead at 50 degrees north latitude.
Northeast Pearse’s wall was a stunner, from the kelp forest up top to the rocky bottom 80 feet (24 m) below. The colors are most intense between 50 and 60 feet (15 to 18 m). Pink snakelocks anemones are sprinkled throughout the vertical field of white plumose anemones, yellow and orange sponges, and fist-sized clumps of red soft corals resembling strawberry cotton candy.
Looking closer, I spied scores of scalyhead sculpins, energetic little fish with oversized attitudes. Some were jostling with each other, perhaps wrangling over choice turf. Others serenely eyed me from their plush perches. One curiously scooted toward the looming camera I had pointed down into its world. When a male kelp greenling glided past me and then angled sharply upward, I took it as a hint to do the same and return to my world above.
The Fame Shadow Effect
This site and a dozen others are full of resplendent beauty, with layer upon layer of life from the minuscule to marine mammals, yet there is not another dive boat in sight. Port McNeill is a gateway to a scubaverse that unfathomably is still practically unknown outside the local dive scene.
I jokingly told a friend that this place benefits from a phenomenon I dubbed the “fame shadow effect.” Port Hardy and God’s Pocket — only a 30-minute drive farther up Vancouver Island — attract the lion’s share of attention focused on British Columbia (BC) diving. The Broughton Archipelago, Blackfish Sound, Johnstone Strait, and other adjacent, similarly critter-rich ocean real estate easily accessed from Port McNeill, however, remain effectively off the radar. Only one operator offers regular dive charters here. You are virtually guaranteed to soak up all the sea life and bask in the wilderness by yourself.
The Current’s in Charge
The area’s premier dive sites are subject to current. Tremendous volumes of water move back and forth through this maze of islands twice daily with the rising and falling tides, resulting in strong currents that divers must respect to dive safely and enjoyably. Consulting current tables and using boating apps such as Navionics can help predict when slack should occur at a given point on the chart. Remember that these are only predictions, and you will need to assess the site conditions on your dive day and modify your plans if necessary.
It is wise to dive these waters with local experts; there is no substitute for experience. Our skipper put us on Plumper Rock at the optimal time, which allowed me to concentrate on critter spotting and image making instead of battling current and burning through my gas too quickly.
A beautiful stand of bull kelp marks this pinnacle, which just barely peeks above the waterline. There is an impressive diversity of colorful photo subjects, including strikingly marked China and tiger rockfish, painted and kelp greenlings, and lingcod. Sun stars in purple and orange, pomegranate aeolid nudibranchs, and numerous kinds of crabs represented the spineless phyla. The usual assemblages of various sponges, anemones, and tunicate species are mashed together into a glorious, living quilt.
Keeping reef right and angling downward and southward, I found the sweetest depth range was 70 to 90 feet (21 to 27 meters), so nitrox was a smart choice.
The water boils and churns when the current runs at Stubbs Island. This advanced site stands alone in the middle of Weynton Passage at the confluence of many competing rivers of current racing between Malcolm and Hanson islands. Choose days with small tidal exchanges, stick close to the rock as you circumnavigate, utilize a delayed surface marker buoy, and be wary of passing boats as you ascend. Winds can pick up quickly here, and all-obscuring fog can materialize from nowhere.
Loads of lovely marine life reward proper planning and execution at Stubbs Island. I scored handsomely on my last dive here with red Irish lords in a rainbow of colors, a decorated warbonnet proudly showing off its distinctive, disheveled hairstyle, and a few 8-inch (20-centimeter) orange-peel nudis, one of which was munching on soft coral.
Surface-Interval Sightings
When waiting until slack to make the next dive, you might as well tour the neighborhood. In addition to humpback whales, these waters are home to orcas, Pacific white-sided dolphins, Dall’s porpoises, harbor seals, Steller sea lions, and sea otters. Bald eagles regally adorn treetops, and bears overturn rocks at the water’s edge searching for treats to eat.
I have always appreciated that Port McNeill’s wildlife viewing opportunities do not end when you climb back into the boat and spit out your regulator. The dive guides often spend surface intervals looking for animals above the waves, so binoculars and a topside camera with a telephoto lens should be part of your dive kit.
Dedicated whale-watching tours depart from both Port McNeill and nearby Telegraph Cove. The pods of resident orcas are a top draw for many nondiving tourists who come here. The same waters in which we scuba dive are a critical habitat for hundreds of killer whales that prey primarily on salmon. Summer and autumn deliver the best chances for unforgettable sightings of these iconic cetaceans.
Scientists have been actively studying the whales for more than 50 years, unraveling mysteries about their complex social lives, language structure, and more. Visit the Whale Interpretive Centre in Telegraph Cove to add to your knowledge base on orcas and other marine mammals.
A visit to Alert Bay — a small First Nation community on Cormorant Island — adds yet another memorable dimension to the BC experience. The many authentic totem poles and the U’mista Cultural Centre transport you back in time and provide an excellent opportunity to learn about the indigenous Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw people and their culture, both past and present.
Time and Tide Again
The ocean current is effectively the lifeblood coursing through Vancouver Island’s marine ecosystem. It powers the biological machinery and is vital for sustaining the remarkable abundance of ocean life. In addition to providing clean, nutrient-rich water and food for creatures on the reefs, currents carry larval fish and invertebrates from afar that are keen to settle down.
The presence of dozens of basket stars at Blowhole (also called Marge’s Wall) is evidence that the spidery-armed echinoderms like this reef, as do I. A squadron of about 20 black rockfish watched me as I tried to alternate between snapping pictures of the stationary, elegantly unfurled basket stars, a lion’s mane jellyfish drifting by, and the handful of Steller sea lions that kept sneaking up behind me only to swoop away when I turned to face them. I was never great at multitasking.
Booker Passage is tucked away behind a cluster of islets on Broughton Island’s southern side. This site is more than 20 miles from Port McNeill, and few people have ever dived in this shallow, narrow channel with overhanging moss-bearded trees. Slack water is required, provided you want your dive to last more than 90 seconds. The current cranks through here during tidal exchanges, and you absolutely want maximum mellow time to ogle over the undersea garden of eye-popping color before those nourishing currents build to warp speed.
Painted anemones (also aptly called dahlias) in kaleidoscopic brilliance and bouquets of giant feather duster tubeworms dominate. Brooding anemones blossom along the stalks of the worms. All manner of fishes, crabs, shrimps, and sea stars are on display, going about their daily lives. I have visited this sublime site only twice. I cannot wait to return.
How to Dive It
Getting there: Take a ferry from Horseshoe Bay, BC, to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, and then drive up Hwy. 19 for four hours to Port McNeill. Or take a ferry from Port Angeles, Washington, to Victoria, BC, and then drive up Hwy. 1 to Nanaimo and continue as above. There are flights from Vancouver (YVR) to Nanaimo (YCD), Port Hardy (YZT), or Campbell River (YBL) on Vancouver Island. You can drive from any of those airports to Port McNeill.
Conditions: Diving is possible year-round, but the main season is from late March until mid-October. (During winter months, the unpredictable weather, short days, and large daytime tidal exchanges can limit site selection and make it difficult to plan a multiday dive trip.) Sun Fun Divers is the only operator offering regular dive charters here.
Ocean temperatures usually hover between 46°F and 50°F (7.5°C and 10°C). A full 7 mm wetsuit or semi-drysuit may suffice for the very hardy, but drysuits are strongly recommended, especially for multiday diving. Underwater visibility ranges from 20 to 80 feet (6 to 24 m). Plankton blooms often limit clarity in late spring to mid-summer, with the best clarity usually being from September to March. Current is expected at the top sites, so diving during slack is the norm. High winds and rough seas can sometimes prevent diving at exposed sites, but there is usually shelter somewhere among the many islands. Port McNeill’s topside weather varies dramatically from cold, rainy, and foggy to warmish and sunny.
Explore More
See more of what Port McNeill offers in a bonus online gallery and this video.
© Alert Diver – Q1 2025