The West Coast Trail is a hike along the pacific coast of Vancouver Island. It was originally a First Nations trail, used by local tribes. In the 20th century a few heavy shipwrecks due to the awful weather earned that coast the sweet nickname of ‘Graveyard of the Pacific’. The Canadian government was forced to act and made couple of lighthouses along the trail, as well as making the trail more accessible, with regular checkpoint, so that supplies could be carried to, and victims away from, the shipwreck sites.

These days the trail is mostly used as a hiking trail, situated in a natural reserve, the Pacific Rim National Park. An, my long-time friend, and I, decided to attempt it together, in a dash of impulsive madness. Unfortunately, we were a tad late in the booking, and we were forced to start from the south end, at Pachena bay, reportedly the most difficult part.

Terminology: Tkm stands for Trail kilometers. I use this unit because there is absolutely no way these correspond to actual metric kilometers. I was tempted to use Fkm, but let’s try for calm and objective.

Day 1 – Port Renfrew to Thrasher’s Cove – 5Tkm
The delightfully antique bus drops us off at Port Renfrew. The first stop is Trail registration,and an introductory session. We receive a map of the trail, and some explanation: due to the weather, the trail changes every year, so information is vital (don’t use this cable car, fill up with water here …). The instructor also tells us about wildlife in the region, and how to act when meeting a cougar or a bear. The map also contains indications about the tide: some parts of the beach are impassable when the sea is too high.

OK, we’re off. The ferry, driven by Butch, a first nations guy, brings us to the trail head, where we meet the people who just finished the trail, who look dirty but happy.

And then, we suffer. The trail consists of climbing over gigantic roots, sliding along rock faces, slipping down muddy hills, and creeping over tree trunks spanned over small water streams or other swampy situations. Obviously, we’re in way over our heads. The backpack takes some getting used to: it makes for a totally different kind of walking. We tell ourselves today is the worst day. Several times.

Fortunately, we’re lucky with the weather, and we have sun filtering through the lush forest all day. The forest itself is amazing. Trees are massive, moss is everywhere, strands of lichen. The vegetation is very dog eat dog, and it’s about who grows on top of whom.

We arrive at Thrasher’s Cove at about 5o’clock, utterly exhausted and sporting our first bruises. Thrasher’s cove is a nice surprise: the sun’s still out, and we find a camping spot above the tide line, amongst the tree trunk. Tent and bed stuff out, we cook our stuff and eat it like animals, even though it’s pretty foul (avoid the Jamaican rice with chicken in dried form), and then we join a small group of people around a camp fire.

We get to know the small family composed of Patricia and her two sons, Wes and Cole, and the adopted member Chris, a nicely crazy Mancunian. Chris and Cole start on a visual diary of the trail on small notebooks, which will not reappear after that. Cole already distinguished himself by pointing out big orange mushrooms (it’s like chicken ! update: apparently their name is ‘chicken of the woods’) and preparing them for their evening meal (we declined a taste). A mother and son, Carol and Cory, join us at the fire too. And then it’s bedtime at the whopping hour of 8pm.

The ocean’s noise takes some getting used to. Not here the peaceful murmur of the North Sea, the Pacific is all crash, thunder and menace. Still, we both sleep pretty much immediately.

Day 2 – Thrasher’s Cove to Camper’s Bay – 8Tkm
After a breakfast of granola, banana and coffee, we start off on the trail. If possible, it’s even worse than the day before: we’re in Never Never Land, the part with the bridges and ladders. And did I mention the slippery tree trunks spanned over rivers ?

At this point, determination makes me switch to a different mode. One step at a time. You get into a state of flow, total concentration on every move, the backpack ache is somewhere in the background.

Also, a more businesslike approach: you calculate more or less coldly that if you put your foot on that slippery root, then on that rock, and then you step down those three muddy steps, you get over that particular bit, without concentrating too much on the possibility of slipping, and, say, falling into the creek 2m below, or splashing headlong into the mud, or cracking your skull on that rock down there.

We also learn to handle the hefty backpack. The basic idea that it need to rest on your hips, and that you need to keep the resulting gravity down, towards your feet. Having it pointing backwards or sideways when you’re on a high ladder (where 10 hikers have put their muddy boots before you) is not a good idea. Balance.

Then there’s the pacing – we learn to stop every so often for a munch and a drink. Keeping energy levels up is crucial – when you’re weak in your knees the balance goes as well. Sirup waffles (stroop wafels) are a life saver (thanks Philip for the tip).

Brief moment of awe (and despair) when we see Carol and Cory loping past us at high speed, sure-footed and fast. I figure that’s what distinguishes an experienced hiker: the knowledge of how to put your feet instantaneously. Sure-footed.

We still have luck with the weather, again thank god, doing this part under the pouring rain would have been lethal.

My right knee starts acting up: I promise it tender loving care, and possibly medical attention, if it gets me through the trail. The walking poles are a real blessing, both for balance and for taking the weight off the legs.

We arrive at Camper’s bay and plant down our tent amongst the logs. After eating the no more appetizing lime and chicken stew, we again gather with the others around the camp fire. It’s a good way to gather info – we decide to more or less follow Cory and Carol, who plan to finish within 7 days. We’re joined by Angela and Monica, a mad pair of childhood friends, who did our 2 days into one – this will more or less be our temporary tribe for the trail. It’s quite obvious that we’re the only noobs here.

Cole lets us taste some of the fresh greenling he just caught with a tiny fishing rod and cooked over the woodfire. Earlier on, we saw him, Wes and Kris eat red berries, and they’re not showing any side effects, so I’m starting to think Cole knows what he’s doing.

The big weathered deadwood logs on the coast are interesting: you can imagine the violence of winter storms, that just sling these massive tree trunks on the coast. And how it would feel to have one of those logs crash into the tent (that’s me at 2o’clock in the morning).

Day 3 – Camper’s bay to Walbran – 9Tkm
It’s the first day we can use the beach access, and by god, it’s a nice change. After a brief stint in the woods, we take the sandy beach, and the kilometers fair fly (relatively). We keep up a good pace through the wet sand, and the weather is windy but nice. We look at shells, try to spot whales, and feel pretty good, generally.

We arrive at Walbran fairly early, and comparatively sentient. We enjoy the night more than the other times, even though we have stopped hoping to get a decent meal out of the dried food packs. I have a swim in Walbran creek, cold but invigorating (the worries about hygiene have started by now).

We learn that Carol makes her own dried foods, she has a dehydrating machine (however you call them) at home. She can dehydrate pretty much everything, and not only does she do meals, but also onions, peppers and other condiments to add to beef jerky sandwiches.

We also learn that Carol is a triathlon athlete and a multiple Iron Man participant, which explains a lot.

Day 4 – Walbran creek to Cribs Creek – 14Tkm
Long day today. We’ve started to fall into a routine: breakfast and coffee, washing up, filling the water bottle and treating them with chlorine tablets, packing up tent and everything.

We do a forest part, which is more of the same, with an added suspension bridge (not that scary). The weather goes from humid to wet, and we experience our first West Coast Trail showers.

At some point, we find a beach access, and rejoice (thinking of the day before). Big error. The said beach is made of slippery rocks (the ill-famed brown algae at work), and you’ve got to clamber and try to stay upright, which makes for slow and careful progress. We’re also pressed by the tides: we’re coming up to an unpassable bit.

Then we arrive to a point where the rock cliffs of vertically, and there’s a rope disappearing down it. That’s it. The rain is pouring down, and we have the choice between rappelling down a cliff, with just a rope, and our backpacks on our backs, or take up the forest trail again. The choice is quickly made (WTF?).

The weather clears up in the afternoon – we even get some sun, which goes a long way to cheering us up a bit. The sky is clear, the forest is silent with the occasional crow and dripping sound, and we hear the ocean pounding in the distance.

We stop at Monique’s, one of the only eating places for miles, for the best hamburger ever. Monique also sells some supplies. It’s quite expensive, but then again, that’s monopoly for you. The First Nations people have sole trading rights on the trail, and they’re using it with considerable business acumen – we hear Monique made 5000$ last week.

At Carmanah Lighthouse (very scenic) we get on the beach for a small while, and go to photograph Sea Lions on their rock. The big brown furry forms make a lot of noise bellowing, and seem to have a very active social life.

When we arrive at Cribs, we meet up with Ian, a ruddy, heavy-set and companionable guy who has done the trail 24 times fully, and 11 times half. He wishes for his ashes to be scattered on the trail when he goes (he’s promptly nick-named Adventure Ian by Monica and Angela). He warns us there might be a storm at night, so we all anchor our tents and shelter behind the rocky rims on the beach. A bit further, a sea lion is dying, and apparently has been since the day before. He disappears in the night.

In the meantime Cory spots two whales at sea, which I fail to see, frustratingly.

After a swim in the ocean with Chris the fish Cory falls on his ankle, and it’s swollen like a grapefruit. He shrugs it off – Adventure Ian gives him some anti-inflammatory stuff. Crazy Canadians.

I manage to bathe in the icy, icy water of Cribs Creek, for all the good it does me. Camp fire afterwards, I warm my feet and my wet sandals – we start to understand that on the West Coast Trail, nothing ever dries – it’s wet, it stays wet.

Fortunately, the storm stays away, though it rains a fair bit.

Day 5 – Cribs Creek to Tsusiat Falls – 17Tkm
Long distance, but the going gets a little bit easier. Our packs are slightly lighter (with the eating of the food) and the trail gets ever so slightly more passable, or else we’re just getting used to it.

Lots of boardwalk over swamp today – don’t imagine anything easy though. From Never-Never Land we’ve crossed over to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom: crumbling boardwalks, being slowly assimilated by the vegetation, until they disappear altogether. Same for some of the bridges.

The swamp vegetation is beautiful, with colorful mosses and big fat-leaf plants – the trees are a bit farther between here, and not as tall.

We stop at Nitnat narrows, where there is a second eating place. We get served delicious steamed crab and right-off-the-fish salmon with baked potato, which we eat greedily. Again, fairly expensive, but not more than it would be in Belgium, probably.

The Indian fish butcher tells us an interesting story about the massive salmon he’s cutting up: when he caught it, it was struggling, and pulling him along. And then, suddenly, it went limp and passive. The fisher realized that there was a sea lion a bit further off. The fish let itself be caught without any resistance: it chose the unknown danger above the known predator.

The rain lasts most of the day, and we get wetter and wetter. I made the mistake not to store my rain jacket safely, so it’s wet before I start. My shoes reach the end of their impermeability, and i feel the first bit of moisture creeping into my socks. Our getters (thanks Mark) keep the mud from sloshing into the shoes.

Our mood is slightly alleviated by the fact that we run into high percentages of extremely good-looking guys – the tanned, fit, brush-cut sport catalogue kind – and quite friendly too.

Notable fact: we sample the first tasty dried-pack food, vegetable lasagna.

Hygiene is getting to be a problem. We try to keep clean by way of river bathing or wet wipes, but it’s no use. Since we were forced to pack light, we packed a minimum number of t-shirts, underthings and socks. On the track, we sweat a lot. We start to call some of our dirty clothing ‘chemical waste’, while Monica and Angela call theirs ‘biohazard shirt’.

Sitting around the campfire might help, since some of the smell is displaced by wood smoke. Cory and Carol manage to burn 2 pairs of socks in an attempt to dry them.

Tsusiat falls is pretty spectacular, but the rain makes it more difficult to appreciate. The water has turned rusty red due to the many rains, and (we’re told) tastes bad.

Day 6 – Tsusiat falls to Michigan Creek
Today it’s mostly paths in the forest. Which should be easy, but isn’t, because the many rainfalls, caused a lot of ad hoc streams to appear, some of them coincidentally on our path – using the path as a river bed. We’re talking about knee-high, rusty-coloured water.

New levels in wetness: rain off and on, and our shoes are now soaking up water like there’s no tomorrow. We make a couple of stops to wring most of the water out of the socks, and pour some out of the boots. At start it’s quite OK, because the water in the shoes warms up to a lukewarm soup, which is better than cold. After a few bathings, though, the temperature drops, and the shoes make an irritating zompy sound.

We get to pass a creek (Logan Creek) with a cable car, which is fun, until about the middle (wheee !) after which you need to pull yourself upwards using a rope. An and I nearly work ourself into cardiac arrest until being rescued by Cory.

We approach the camping totally exhausted – the wet and cold suck the energy right out of you. At this point, I still try to appreciate nature, but honestly, it’s hard work.

And lo, it seems that two of the bridges have disappeared, so we have to make crossings with our shoes off through the cold, rapidly streaming water, before we reach camp.

Just when we are clambering over the last logs before arriving, An slips and hit her knee. She’s limping and there’s a really ugly bruise. Oh dear. I hope we make it tomorrow, anti-inflammatory and painkillers helping.

The fire at night is a soppy affair, with everyone competing for space to dry wet socks and shoes. Kudos to Cole the woodsman for finding dry wood to light the fire in the first place, and Cory for lighting it. When we retire, it takes a long time to warm up – the bedstuff is slightly damp too, due to contact with the tent the previous night (did i mention nothing ever dries ?).

Day 7 – Michigan Creek to the Trailhead – 12Tkm
We rise extra-early – there’s no way we’re going to miss the Trail Bus, which only runs once a day, and start at 12h30.

We slog and drudge through the last Tkm – our legs are feeling this is the last bout of effort, and seem to have given up already. Mine are fairly cramped, and i try not to stop too much to keep them going. An is bravely giving it her best, and her knee allows her to walk, thank god.

The last few ladders nearly kill us, and then we arrive at the clearing that signals the end of the trail. We sign off at the office (and note 2 more people have needed rescueing from the trail, which makes the total this year to 72).

We take the bus with an extremely cranky bus driver, who keeps the windows wide open for the drive back. Understandable, taking into account the incredible pong we all give off, but it makes for a very cold drive, and my feet are sopping wet in my shoes. Long, slow hours, though we are sitting, which makes for a nice change, generally.

When we arrive to the hotel, I have a long, long shower that nominates to the Best Shower of the Century, and we wash all our trail clothes in the hostel washing machine.

And that is how An and I did one of the hardest trails on the planet. Rewarding. Probably a once in a lifetime thing though – a deeply instructive experience.

Experiencing nature as we’ve forgotten it it our overpopulated little Belgium: beautiful, formidable, mostly untouched. Not hostile per se, but vastly indifferent.

I might add photos and km (and maybe a few corrections) later, time to sign off.
Update: West Coast Trail photo set

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