Unleash wellness in the wildness of British Columbia
Tucked into bed with a blanket pulled high to my chin, I am sure of two things. With absolute certainty, I am dreaming. And yet, I am eyes-wide-open awake.
An audible laugh parts my lips as I survey the sublime absurdity of my wilderness reality. This bed is not contained within four walls. Instead, the al fresco “bedroom” sits atop an L-shaped dock tethered to the sea floor, hidden in a crook of craggy coast within British Columbia’s southern Great Bear Rainforest.
By Jennifer Hubbert
Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort
Apart from my friend and the odd eagle, there isn’t a soul in sight.
To my immediate left, a plume of smoke streams from the chimney of a wood-fired hot tub; off to my right, a handsome cedar-shake sauna. In the time it takes the sun to make a lazy arc across the afternoon sky, I sample both, multiple times over, until the beads of sweat dancing on my brow coax me into the cool, jade sea. Now, tucked into bed, my body buzzes, but my mind is still, vacant of worry.
Adventure awaits at the captivating Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort.
Water—both salty and sweet—is a life-giving elixir at Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort. The remote sanctuary is built crucially around a waterfall that tumbles through a fern-carpeted forest before it meets the ocean. Overlooked by a pair of cedar barrel hot tubs, it is both ambient and hard-working. When Craig Murray first heard the cascade’s rushing melody in 1979, it rang out like a siren song. He had been searching for a place to anchor his dream: an off-grid, family-run, sport fishing lodge.
Cedar barrel hot tubs steps away from waterfall.
The day I arrive at Nimmo, three helicopters are perched upon elevated timber boardwalks that connect nine guest chalets, a yoga studio and two treatment cabins with a floating dining room and fire dock. Helicopters have long been woven into the fabric of Nimmo Bay. In the early 80s, Murray and his business partner helped pioneer heli-fishing, whisking saltwater anglers to secretive montane fishing holes. Nimmo’s radical offering held immediate appeal, attracting corporate America and a parade of magnates. Twice it staged an episode of the television series Boston Legal.
These days, guests who arrive at Nimmo for catch-and-release fishing are in the minority. They’re also welcomed by a second generation of Murrays: son Fraser and partner Becky, who took over operations in 2012. Helicopters still feature in most itineraries, but instead of casting a line, guests ascend ancient glaciers, take thrill rides along wild rivers or go backcountry heli-biking.
Equally memorable, though less superlative, are the unadvertised moments that major in small wonders. While snorkeling, I’m chuffed to find a large crab surfing a thick ribbon of bull kelp. In a secluded lagoon, a dolphin surfs our wake at length and makes a few aerial maneuvers before escorting us out. And on a hike through the moss-hugged Great Bear Rainforest, guides explain how fish “feed the trees” and then identify sea asparagus and yarrow—wild edibles we’ll find later on our dinner plates.
Explore while hiking the Great Bear Rainforest.
Food has always been a serious preoccupation at Nimmo Bay, but the last few years represent an ascension to epicurean obsession. On our last evening we dine at the chef’s table for a seven-course tasting menu. In the kitchen, Chef de Cuisine Rob Boland and his team are not cooking, they are operating. Beneath the heat lamps, long tweezers delicately clasp purple flowers which are garnishing an oxtail rotolo with surgical precision. Nimmo is wonderfully wild terroir; the forest is a garden, and the shore is a pantry. Humble, foraged and harvested ingredients—bull kelp, salal, crab and urchin—are transformed into regionally rooted haute cuisine that’s first eaten with the eyes. And just like the al fresco “bedroom”, table settings aren’t contained to four walls. Moveable feasts include secretive picnic spots in the woods or waist-deep “snorknics.”
Unforgettable waist-deep “snorknics” dining experience.
Bracing for the inevitable hard fall back to earth when I depart Nimmo, I fill one final wilderness prescription. In a cedar cabin next to the waterfall, Bianca Lorage curates a selection of essential oils from her botanical apothecary. An hour of massage is a tonic, but the experience reaches peak bliss when an outdoor shower is drawn.
In the tree-filtered daylight and lathered in the heady aromas of cedar, sandalwood and bergamot, I draw one more certainty: Nimmo Bay is a salve for the soul.
Sustainable Aviation Leader
As part of its commitment to sustainability, AirSprint contributes to ongoing conservation efforts in the Great Bear Rainforest, which aim to reduce industrial logging while supporting Indigenous communities and ecological values.
Your jet is ready when you are.
Photos courtesy of Nimmo Bay Wilderness Resort.