Exploring Yorke Island: A Hidden WWII Fort

A hidden base, an eerie bunker, and Izzie’s first solo emergency.

July 12, 2025

We’ve passed Yorke Island at least three or four times over the years while heading up and down Johnstone Strait, but we had no idea there was a World War II fort there. Honestly, it’s kind of wild—this base was built before Canada even entered the war, and it’s just sitting there on the coast. Remote. Rugged. Almost forgotten.

But today, we finally stopped.

Yorke Island sits tucked in near the north end of Hardwicke Island, guarding a narrow choke point where every vessel heading south to Vancouver has to pass. It’s about 150 miles northwest of the city—close enough to matter, but isolated enough that most people have no idea what’s there.

We dropped anchor in the only place charted as safe. Technically, yes, the holding was solid… but with the wind howling at 20 to 25 knots down the Strait, it wasn’t exactly relaxing. Izzie stayed on Tangaroa to stand anchor watch—her first solo mission. We showed her how to start the engines before we left, handed her a cell phone, and gave her the rundown. Pants were suggested, but not enforced. That part comes up later.

A Base Built in Secret

Back in 1936, a British military advisor named Major B.C.D. Treat recommended fortifying the Strait, just in case Japan decided to steam down and attack Vancouver or Victoria. The Department of National Defence quickly set aside Yorke Island for this new fort, and by 1937, construction was underway.

Sixty buildings went up—gun placements, bunkers, docks, barracks. It was Vancouver’s hidden backdoor defense system. Most of Canada’s attention (and budget) was focused on the East Coast and possible German threats at the time, but by 1938, a small crew from the Fifth Heavy Battery in Esquimalt was stationed here.

The original guns were 4.7-inch quick-firers last calibrated in 1914. They came from Halifax. On August 26, 1939, just before war was officially declared, 52 men and four officers were dispatched aboard HMCS Comox. They landed on Yorke the next day. Canada declared war on Germany a few weeks later.

Throughout the war, the base was home to not just gunners but also naval reservists, signal corps, and searchlight troops. Rotations happened one soldier at a time to avoid paperwork. Gotta love that logic.

By 1942, they upgraded the guns with a pair of 6-inch Mark VIIs from Stanley Park, plus some anti-aircraft and examination guns. They even reinforced the Battery Observation Post with plastic armor.

But the conditions were brutal. There was no fresh water—none. Everything had to be brought in by boat from Hardwicke Island and stored in a massive 50,000-gallon concrete tank. (Blaine climbed up that tank, of course.) Cold, damp, and lonely, Yorke got the nickname Little Alcatraz. Troops would joke about going “Yorkie,” which basically meant losing your mind from the isolation.

Exploring What’s Left

Fast forward to today. The Department of National Defence dismantled the big guns in 1946, but many buildings were just… left. And that’s why we were here. Yorke Island is one of the last untouched WWII forts in Canada, and because it’s so remote, there’s no graffiti, no crowds—just history.

We anchored Tangaroa, launched Punga, and headed to shore. At low tide, we tied off near an old boardwalk and climbed up into the trees. Thankfully, the Vancouver Artillery Association has an agreement with BC Parks to maintain the site. The local 85 VICS group has done a ton of cleanup too, and the trails were in great shape.

We followed one up the hill and suddenly—there it was.

A massive concrete bunker.

It was the most complete WWII fortification I’ve ever seen in Western Canada. We were able to walk inside and explore—shells still littered the floor. You could see exactly where the gun placements were aimed down the Strait. The whole place gave off an eerie, reverent feeling. Like you could almost hear the echoes of boots on concrete and shouted commands.

We found scratched-in names, and even a painting left by someone claiming to have built the bunker. I kept thinking how hard life must’ve been here… but also how proud those men must’ve been, standing guard over the coast.

And Then… Trouble

After poking around the bunkers and heading down to what had been a gunner’s beach, my phone rang.

It was Izzie.

The anchor alarm had gone off.

We scrambled. Blaine sprinted ahead to Punga while I grabbed Maggie and followed as fast as I could. When we reached the shoreline, Tangaroa was definitely not sitting where we left her. The current had shifted and waves were rolling in hard.

Smart kid that she is, Izzie had already started the engines. First time ever. Luckily, we’d done a dry run before we left.

We couldn’t bring Punga alongside—too much motion. So Blaine made a leap for it, grabbed the rail, and climbed aboard while I circled in the dinghy with Maggie. Izzy held course, Blaine put Tangaroa in gear, and we started hauling up the anchor… slowly. We had 250 feet of chain out, and our windlass is not exactly built for speed. Meanwhile, the current was ripping, so I had to keep Punga throttled forward just to stay in place beside the boat.

Eventually, we got everything sorted. Blaine motored us into the lee of the island, and with Izzy on the helm, we got Punga back on the roof. Everything was strapped down and we were underway again—headed north into 25–30 knots and whitecaps. Just another day on the Sushi Run.

Yorke Island never saw battle. It was a place of watching, waiting, and enduring. Most people have never heard of it—we hadn’t, until about a year ago.

But it’s not just another crumbling relic. It’s a piece of our coastal history, and a reminder of the men who stood watch in the middle of nowhere, doing a job that most of us didn’t even know existed.

It deserves to be remembered.

And if you ever go there—bring someone to stand anchor watch. Trust me.

Want to see what Yorke looks like from the air and inside the bunkers? We’ve got a full video up on our YouTube channel Onboard Tangaroa – Exploring the World. And if you’re curious about life aboard Tangaroa and all the boat work it takes to keep her running, check out our other channel, The Never-Ending Sea Trial.

We’re currently heading north on the Great Siberian Sushi Run—next stop, Alaska, then across to Siberia, and eventually to Japan.

And yeah… we’ll definitely be triple-checking anchor holding from now on.