We decided not to stay over at the Pachena Bay trailhead near Bamfield before embarking on the trail, but instead to take the shuttle bus from downtown Victoria at 7 a.m. and hit the WCT on the same day after receiving the relevant instructions from the Park Rangers. That way we got an extra night out on the town in Victoria but little sleep before taking off. Whereas the area of the WCT had been hit by a lot of rainfall over the last couple of days, we got a beautiful day of sunshine when we arrived at the trailhead. We made good progress amidst warnings from other hikers, who were coming from the other end of the trail, that "lots of mud" lay ahead. One woman especially, oracled we should "learn to love mud". On our end, however, the trail was almost dry, easy going on a nice smooth surface. After a little flat stretch at the very beginning, the trail started to alternate uphill and downhill, its typical appearance.
|
|
Our first break took us off to the right of the trail to Pachena Point where a lighthouse is also located. Two families are living there and apparently fudge can be had, but we did not yet crave the cheap tastes of civilization's junk food, so we passed up the opportunity. From the lighthouse we got a first impression of what the view over the ocean would be, also saw a bald eagle cruise by and land on a tree. From other hikers we heard that quite a few whales could be seen near Michigan Creek. Eventually, we kept going, seeing the occasional blow or the back of a whale in the distance, but nothing that was absolutely spectacular. After a good push of not quite 17 km into the trail we decided to call it a day and put up camp at Tsocowis Creek.
|
|
We found a spot somewhat off from the rest of the crowd and close to the ocean. With the sun already set, we cooked a little something for dinner and tried to hang up our packs in the dark. Putting the packs up on a tree in order to foil any attempts by bears to trash our packs and rodents to chew through our stuff to get at the food turned out to be the most annoying task on the trail. The skinny nylon ropes we brought along for this purpopse were no good as they cut into the wood (or our fingers) right away and could hardly be moved afterwards. They also had a tendency to get stuck in the branches of the trees, leading to consistently shorter ropes as the trail continued.
|
|
|
 |
After 10 days of heavy partying, diving and running around in Victoria and the precious little sleep we got in the process, we were so passed out, we did not take off from the camp site until after 11 a.m., thereby immediately shattering any possibility there might have been to close the trail within five days. This because the ferry at Nitinat Narrows runs only between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. and leaving so late only to rush past Tsusiat Falls did not appeal to us.
|
|
Instead, we took it easy and had a nice little walk to Tsusiat Falls, probably the most popular campsite on the trail due to it's large waterfall. After Valencia Bluffs, at the Klanawa River we got a first shot at crossing a river by means of a man-propelled cable cart. These things were super small, so squeezing ourselves plus the packs in there was quite a hassle. The ride to the other side is fun though if the cable runs smoothly, which most of the cable carts did.
|
|
Tsusiat Falls first appears when crossing the bridge, offering a fantastic view over the fall, which seems to go straight into the ocean. In fact, it seems like the river just keeps flowing on and at first we didn't even notice that there was a waterfall. The campsite on the beach is reached by means of a batch of seemingly endless ladders, the first set of many yet to come on the trail. We found Tsusiat campsite wasn't all it was supposed to be, just one huge beach with the waterfall being pretty much the only attraction, although a nice one. Maybe we were a little upset because of the weather, since it was drizzling all through the evening.
|
|
|
|
From Tsusiat Falls we continued our trek along the sea shelve or on the sand, making excellent progress. At Tsusiat Pt., a little further south from the falls, a natural arch leaps into the ocean and can be passed at low tide. We were almost too late to go through, but waiting for the waves to roll back and taking a giant stride, we made it across half-dry. After Tsuquadra Pt. we found the beached grey whale other trekkers had been mentioning to us. Only a yellowish hull was left but the baleen were still clearly visible. They were so perfectly regular, if any human had perfect teeth like that, he or she'd be a model. Still going along the beach and burning rubber making great headway, we turned back into the temperate rainforest by Tsuquanah Pt. in order to cross the Nitinat Narrows, the first ferry crossing. Two friendly young native dudes ferried us to the other side. The view up the narrows is very beautiful, and it pays to enjoy the short ride. After a short steep ramp to gain ground from the sea level Nitinat, it was boardwalk for the next few kilometers, an autobahn in the rainforest, so to speak.
|
|
Crossing the Cheewhat River (aka "River of Urine") over one of two suspension bridges on the trail was next along the way. After passing the rest of Clo-oose Bay our craving for a beer and some greasy fries at its worst, we dropped our packs at "Club 37", aptly named after it's location 37 km into the trail. There's a family living in a small cottage and they offer a whole range of services from food, gas, warm showers, telephones etc. We never quite figured out what these guys were about, but one has to deduct that they have chosen this lifestyle in the forest for religious reasons and we gather that if you stay for more than a day or two, you might get hooked on the "chosen-one" frame of mind as well. However, taking a break there poses no danger of conversion and the guys there are really nice and friendly, serving lots of different stuff. We went for the "Club Special" (a small bag of chips for C$ 5 and a complementary drink, be it beer or pop) and fries. The "Club Special" is probably due to the fact that the proprietor has no license to sell liquor. The fries were dripping with oil, but great to be had. All charged up on booze and fries, we happily continued our trip south-bound. Next on the track came Dare Pt., where sea lions are swarming the rocks in distance, followed by Dare Beach. Walking all of this on the beach or on the sea shelve at low tide, we must have made at least four or five kms per hour including breaks, which is great going compared to what was going to hit us the next day. Some of the shelve was covered with really slippery algea and one had to pay attention or face a twisted ankle and busted behind.
|
|
Another "restaurant" is located after Carmanah Pt. at around km 45, this one being "Monique's Place". Monique is half Algoquin and originally a native from Montreal but at one point in her life decided that she needed neither a washing machine nor a TV. Her needs are little she says, and she means it. A cool Kookanee costs only C$ 3, a pop a single buck! We also grabbed a bacon burger and chips for C$ 6 and enjoyed her company for a little while. She has married a local First Nations guy and hardly ever leaves her place of choice on the beach. Few people in the world seem to be more in tune with themselves than Monique, but she is worried about the encroaching of the natural resources in her backyard by the logging companies. We decided we could not forsake civilization like Monique has, but lift our hats to her for her determination to do so. Unsure whether we should push on or call it a day, we took a rest at Carmanah Creek, ending up staying.
|
|
Even though we read in our guide with worrying faces, that during fog, the lighthouse located at Carmanah Pt. blows its horn every ninety seconds, we decided to take the chance. A clear night settled over us, we got a big campfire going, enjoyed the stunningly peaceful scenery, grilled some sausages, and glanced at the canopy of stars above us. The fog horn eluded us and so this spot beat any other campsite on the trail hands down. And due to the potential fog horn, we only had to share the site with one quiet dude from Poland, who spoke almost no English.
|
|
|
|
It was on this day, that we found out why the WCT is sometimes referred to as one of the most gruelling treks in North America. Taking off from our beloved campsite, we first had to cross Carmanah Creek by means of a cable cart. The cart there needs some major application of oil in order to grant smoother rolling. After breaking a sweat handling the cable cart, we hit the beach again and made steady progress, going past Bonilla Point and Vancouver Point until we hit Walbran Creek. There we had to cross another time by cable cart, and after this is was obligatory to stay on the trail since the tides and the cliffs dotting the oceanside did not allow beach walking.
|
|
While the trail at first was not all that bad, we were closing in on the muddy parts of it. After passing Adrenalin Creek, we got a first taste of it, but only after crossing over the suspension bridge dangling far above Logan Creek we became bogged down in mud, glue poured out of our shoes and nailed us to the ground. And while dragging ourselves along, pouring sweat but doing no more than one kilometer per hour, climbing over huge toppled trees in our way and crashing through mud puddles, trying not to slip and fall and on top of it all, the sun burned mercilessly.
|
|
It was not only that it was muddy and that the natural reaction is to try to avert the mudpools, also there were lots of obstacles such as trees, roots, rocks and little creeks in the way. After a short while, we no longer tried to beat the mud, but started to go with the flow. As long as your boots don't get soaked, you need not worry about having muddy gators. This was the stretch of the trail where we thanked ourselves over and over again for having been prudent enough to spend the hundred bucks on a good set of poles and dish out another fifty for sturdy gators. We watched bewildered when people, who had no poles crossed our way, knowing that they would have the hardest time balancing over the randomly strewn gigantic logs lying around in the mud pools and we stared in complete disbelief at those without gators. Well, sometimes having two legs isn't all it's cracked up to be. These guys were fucked and they looked tired. Trying to avert the mud pools and walk around them would double their time and they were not unlikely to get into a slip and fall accident.
|
|
After seeing a lot of exhausted and unhappy faces along the way and climbing down a monstrous set of ladders, we threw up camp at Cullite Creek, pitching the tent in the forest right off the beach. The beach is not really suitable for camping, since it's made up of large boulders and probably pretty uncomfortable. The site is neatly set between huge cliffs. After the day's nightmarish trip through the mud, we calculated that if we got up at 4 a.m. in the morning and left camp shortly thereafter, we could walk along the beach during low tide almost until Owen Pt. Thereby we would beat the mud and make good progress as well. In the end, however, our calculations did not pan out with the absolute certainty necessary, and so we opted for a little more sleep instead.
|
|
|
|
This day we started off with climbing up the corresponding set of ladders we came down yesterday and more. All along the way from Cullite Creek to after 150 Yard Creek, ladders would be dotted randomly for our kind perusal. Climbing something over two hundred steps ith a heavy pack on your back definitely gets your heart rate going, we found out.
|
|
At Camper Bay we used a cable cart for the last time but always stayed inland on the trail as it was not as muddy as we had expected plus by now we had become accustomed to the mud and were not really bothered by it anymore. After Camper Creek we came across some weird woodland with the rainforest opening up to give way to a kind of forest with some really twisted trees. This was also the point where we heard the sounds from a bear or a cougar right next to the track and even though this might not have posed any immediate danger to us, it sent shivers down our backs and we made damn sure we picked up speed to get away from the site.
|
|
Since we would have been too late to cross over to Gordon River from the southern trailhead near Port Renfrew that night, we decided to call it a day just after Log Jam Creek. On the way there, we passed up the opportunity to climb down a frighteningly long set of ladders in order to reach the official campsite down by the water at Trasher Cove. Instead we put up camp near the highest point on the trail, right in the forest with no view whatsoever on the water. After taking off our packs, we were immediately swarmed by hundreds of moskitos who would have sucked us dry within the next half hour, had it not been for our industrial strength "Deet" bug repellent. That thing actually worked and so we were able to throw up a wall and make a tiny fire in peace and quiet, enjoy a cigarette, do some maintenance work on our gear and let the last few days pass before our eyes.
|
|
|
|
For the last day we had only something like six kilometers left, so we were in no rush to get up and running. Before we got out of our tent, we had two groups of hikers coming from around Trasher Cove pass our campsite and wake us up. We took another hour to pack and a few minutes to catch up with the groups which had passed us before. They were snail-pacing along the rest of the track, one group being too big and too varied as far as their strength was concerned, the other group having no poles. Blowing over very rugged terrain made up of slippery rocks, fallen trees, tree trunks and lots of roots, we wrapped up the rest of the trail in no time, thanks, once again, to the poles.
|
|
After a little over five days on the trail it winded down towards the inlet at Gordon River in a few last twists and turns. Suddenly we emerged from the forest and stood next to an information board and a small sign which read "Km 75". Looking across the river, we saw a campsite, people going back and forth, boats running out towards the ocean, the hustle and bustle and, most of all, the sound of civilization. It was so much more quiet and peaceful at Carmanah Pt.
|
|
|
|
After a couple of hours at the southern trailhead, we were picked up by the shuttle bus and ferried back to Victoria. We swear, the bus had no shocks at all. Every time there was a bump in the road, we expected the rear window to shatter or the roof to cave in over us. Miraculously enough, we made it back to Victoria. In the bus we met some guys from the States who, amidst the roaring noise created by crashing unsuspended through a series of potholes, told us of their trip along the
Juan de Fuca trail, a continuation of the WCT to the south in a way. We will keep that in mind for next year... and also an attempt to do the WCT in three days... It's been done before...
|
|
|
