From the prow of our water taxi our destination initially appeared devoid of any sign of civilisation. Yet as the engines calmed to a mechanical purr we entered a small bay whose shoreline was sparsely punctuated by the familiar triangular shapes of tented roofs that would be our shelter for the next few days.

Once our party had clumsily unloaded onto the pebbled beach, all preconceptions about camping on an island were dismantled peg by peg. The settlement we'd reached wasn't just a camp but an architectural triumph, largely sculpted from materials brought in on the tide.

Washed-up timber posts supported a clear tarpaulin-clad kayaking equipment store, kitchen and dining area. Bleached seashells lined pathways and strategically placed solar panels, soaking up the rays of the surprisingly warm British Columbian sun, provided enough energy to make the appeal of the outdoor shower irresistible.

It would be an insult to the inventiveness of the place to call this temporary accommodation, yet everything we could see would be gone by the end of summer's lease. It was as if our host's goal was to leave not the faintest trace of occupancy.

Our own goal was to spend time on the water, yet we'd also heard that the island's interior repaid serious investigation and so it proved. Following a trail that was imperceptible to all but the highly trained eye, our guides led us into a densely green arboreal wonderland covered with ferns, moss and lichen. The cedar trees that formed the spine of this forest are estimated to be at least 1,000 years old and judging by their ample girth (sometimes some 70ft in circumference) were still in rude health.

The beauty of this everglade was obvious enough to the naked eye, though its more magical properties are only revealed by years of study. Luckily our guides weren't just able route masters, but masters in the botanical secrets of the forest. Plucking a stringy piece of lichen from one of the cedar trees they explained how this particular species (known as old man's beard) provided antiseptic healing properties when wrapped tightly around a flesh wound.

The morning of our first kayaking excursion arrived with a signature coastal mist, which was good news for the less confident members of our party as the lack of wind meant calmer waters. The restricted vision was also a boon to the art of propelling a double kayak, as it meant less visual distractions from the challenge of keeping rhythm with the person in front. As the colours of sky and sea melded into a gunmetal-grey our small armada of vessels snaked around the rocky outline of our island in search of sea otters.

On previous trips to Canada the sight of a sea otter was always a noteworthy event. Hunted to the precipice of extinction, these super-furry mammals have been making a slow journey back to critical mass.

Fortunately for us the waters of Kyuquot Sound have become the launch pads for this survival mission. As our flotilla edged out into more open water, what initially seemed yet another stretch of kelp undulating with the swell quickly became an entire raft of otters. As many as 100 bobbing heads formed a line broken by occasional splashes whenever one lost, and attempted to regain, its place. Our raft of kayaks lined up to watch this spectacle, imitating the otters' attempts to keep formation.

If there'd been any reservation that kayaking might just prove a rather laborious and inefficient form of water transport, the next few days capsized the notion completely. As the weather cleared to a series of golden days, our party took to the water each morning with an expectation of seeing the familiar from an entirely new perspective.

The seamless forested coast that we'd observed from our water taxi became a new world of breathtaking inlets and gullies, of overhanging trees and fresh water streams that we could navigate to implausibly shallow depths. While our limbs felt thoroughly exercised at the end of each day, the abiding memory wasn't the effort of getting about, but the shapes, sounds and colours of the world seen from our flotation tanks.

By the time our water taxi returned to collect us at the end of our four-day visit, we'd acquired the confidence of people who have tamed an unfamiliar world. Though in truth this was something of a conceit, as we learnt on discovering from our taxi driver that the fishing boat that went missing at the start of our trip had now been found, without any survivors.