Day 5 - Walbran Creek to Camper Creek - July 2, 2013

Day Five - July 2, 2013

     (Walbran Creek to Camper Creek)

Our late start this morning almost cost us.  But I leap ahead.




Our mid-morning stroll along the boardwalk brings us to the sign Kilometre 55.  Only twenty to go.

There is no end to the up and downs today.  We did encounter an unusual one though.  It was sort of a ladder and sort of a stairs.  Verity plans her ascent.






Then Felicity has a go at it.



 Most ladders go down into the valley, sometimes nearly two hundred steps, then you cross the stream, and then, right there, is the same number of steps going up the other side.  A lot of work to gain a few hundred horizontal feet.  But the trolly crossings are great.

Back in the forest there are still quagmires from last week's monsoon.  Felicity finds one of many.




Sometimes they just don't work out as well as you planned.





When the paths are dry and clear making way through the forest is magnificent, magical.



 As we near Camper's Creek I am uneasy.  We came along the beach.  If too late the tide will have closed our entrance to the campsite forcing us to retreat some miles and go overland.

Rounding the rock face at the creek entrance we find the path submerged. My first thought is that we will swim.  But I wade into the gap and it is only two feet deep.  So we hurry through and pitch camp, feast then sleep.

  By days end we are at kilometer 62 at the eponyous Camper's Creek. Only 13 kilometers to go.  And two days, well one and half actually, to do it in.

Day 4 - Cribb Creek to Walbran Creek - July 1, 2013

Day Four
      (Cribb Creek to Walbran Creek)


Now the terrain changes to more up and down as we cross deep drainages and rushing creeks.

 
Verity and Felicity are becoming masters at making and breaking camp.

 We start off along the beach in the fog.

                                                       Out of the pall we spy what might be Benjamin Franklin, in profile, with a tree growing out of his head.

              
There is Carmanah Point Lighthouse in the distance.





 Then close up.

After a time in the forest we come down to tide water and trek on until nearing Chez Monique. Verity finds time for a little beach art along  the way.




Along this corduroy highway I slipped into a shallow crevasse and mildly twisted my ankle.   



Rounding a corner there are sand beaches that lead us on to Chez Monique - home of cold coke, twenty dollar so-so hamburgers and a rather funky beach architecture employing beachcombed materials.

 That marked the end of easy street.  Now we climb.  





Then descend, then climb, then descend.  Sometimes there are trolley and cable cars across the streams and those are always fun.




 We trod on arriving at Walbran Creek kilometre 53 with just over 20 kilometres to go.  We pitch tent and have a snort of rum.

Day 3 - Tsusiat Falls to Cribb Creek - June 30, 2013

Day Three - June 30, 2013
      (Tsusiat Falls to Cribb Creek)

Yippee! Another day of adventure!  Around 17 km of adventure.

We break camp with unusual haste - usually we were the last out at any campsite. But not today.

 A rising tide threatens to close our passage to some headlands.

We made it.  In brilliant morning sun Verity and Felicity pass through Hole in the Wall.

We look back to see another trekker passing through the arch.  Mother Nature was sweet that morning.

And we are off again on the run to Nitinat Narrows. By now I have recovered some of my jam.  The girls never lost theirs.





On the heights above the Pacific we wend along the bend of bay.  Thinking of lunch.  A real lunch.





Felicity loves this stretch.


So does Verity.





           
After the descent to Nitinat Narrows we catch the ferry across the narrows to arrive at the restaurant for some traditional west coast dining.  Salmon is on the menu






And of course some of the finest crab in the world.

            

           I take the crab.

After gorging ourselves, and amid some distress over our excess, we gear up and head up again.  This time the uplands are boggy and I get excited about the my first big experience of the carnivorous sundew plant.

Cribb Creek is still some distance.  With time rushing so must we.  To the side are some typical beachside markers for entrance to upland trails.  We go overland.


      
Then we climb up and down, then up and around, then down to Cribb Creek where we make camp.

I think Verity is enjoying the great out-of doors.





So is Felicity.

I get a yearning to do some washing and drying and so construct what might be the frailest clothesline on the west coast.  Then turn in. 

                                                                                                                                                                                

Day 2 - Michigan Creek to Tsusiat Falls - Jun2 29, 2013

Day Two - the Resurrection
 
     (Michigan Creek Campground)

Deep sleep erases yesterday's shock and rekindles hope.  Breakfast by the sea with my heroes.  Then break camp and launch off!

 That day the sun came out and so did I.  

It is along the water for a while with rock hopping and fording the occasional chilly stream.










Felicity bids adieu to tidewater on boulder beach and then we head upland.








 One of several problems with the uplands is that you have to climb to get there.  Then when you get there every little drainage is another up and down, often very steep.

 

We plodded through mud and danced through mire much of the day but the forest was beautiful and occasionally we ran across relics of old days of logging, mules and steam engines.

I am not sure of my offence but it appears that I did something wrong on the path??


 Some great joys along the course were the ferries, a chance to take the pack off, and go for a ride!

 

Here Felicity soars across the abyss, wings spread wide.


Then we repack and hit the trail again on our way to tonight's camp site, Tsusiat Falls.  At kilometer 25 it is about one third of the distance through the trail.



 

The falls are beautiful.



But no time for gawking!  Work to do.




We pitch tent, dine and then it is off to sleep.


I drift off with Verity reading Blisters to Bliss, irony on the West Coast Trail.

Day 1 - West Coast Trail - June 28, 2013

I demurred.  Felicity persisted.  I refused.  Felicity enlisted Verity. Verity cajoled.  I capitulated. We three are off to do the West Coast Trail.


Day One - June 28th
       (Pachena Bay Trail Head)

No one dare tell me what to wear, how to pack a back pack, how to adjust it.  Why didn't I ask? Because I am a wilderness warrior and should know those things!

 My last real smile of the week. Victoria, four a.m., we depart luxury in pursuit of muck, pain and deprivation.

Our glorious moment of bravado at Pachena Bay Trailhead, one for all and all for one!

And then away we go for a wilderness triumph. It is lightly drizzling after a week of hard rain.

 
In her excitement Verity finds it hard to contain herself so bolts off and away like a shot!

Felicity lags behind to get that last picture of her supremely confident father marching into the forest for a good humbling. 

Some referred to that week before as a monsoon.  We saw the survivors as we set off.  Ending the long trek from the other end, the Jordan River end, a file of zombie hikers stumbled by us, glazed eyes, mechanically lifting one foot after the other, plodding through the last day of their journey from hell.  The trail was a disaster. I was unprepared, over confident, over dressed, ready for a fall.







When passing the marker for Km 2 I was tired, sweating, breathing heavily and, for all that effort, fully expecting to see Km 4.  It deflated me.  Would I survive this seventh level hell? But the girls were strong.


It would be hours later, all a rather blurry memory to me now, that the girls decided I needed to make changes if I was to survive.  I would need to share some of my pack, rebalance the rest, reduce my ridiculous absorbent cotton clothing and reset my ego.


Hours later again, nearing dark, we march into Michigan Creek.  I had survived but barely.  The girls were right to worry that the old goat might falter.

Pitch the tent, take off our sodden and sorry boots, and eat.  Then sweet deep sleep.