Day #8:Homeward Bound!

There is nothing unique about getting up and leaving except the time we actually break camp and leave. This morning the women head out at 10:00.  It is a warm, dry, sunny day.

 My feet are covered with blisters and I spend 15 minutes patching up my feet with Shacklee Baby Diaper Rash Cream (Zinc Oxide, Caster seed oil, beeswax, oat kernel oil, olive oil, safflower seed oil, silica, aloe, chamomilia recutita extract, etc.), bandaids and moleskin.  Sounds funny, I know, but it works for me.  I have a huge blister on the base of my right big toe where the skin was torn away along the heel, and the side of my right foot.  Moleskin acts quite well to protect what is. I am in a lot of pain and Brian dole me out a time-release Iboprofen on Thursday morning, and also this morning.  I'm generally pretty stoic
and resistant to using meds of this kind, but, you know, when the going gets tough, sometimes the tough give in and take the pain killers that are available.

 The path has a few rough sections, but there are no steep up-and-down climbs. The closer we get to the parking lot, the easier it becomes. Brian and I talk about how good it feesl to have completed this Trail-- this is really IT, a short hike to the parking lot. We are relieved and elated. With my painful feet I am still a little slow.

About a kilometer from the parking lot, the Trail splits, one path leads to San Joseph Bay and the other one East to the parking lot (Cape Scott Trail Head).  As we near the junction we meet up with hordes of people on day trips or weekend junkets.  There is a group of young boys that are possibly Scouts on a weekend camp-out to Cape Scott.  When I turn left at the Junction I encounter people just sauntering along on a leisurely day's walk to San Joseph Bay.

I meet my first visible Park Ranger around here, a young woman in her early 20s.  She ask me where I have hiked.  When I tell her the North Coast Trail, she exclaims, "Oh wow!" and when I added that I was 64, she seems quite impressed and we have a nice convo.

We all converge in the parking lot by noon. I am surprised to see how full the lot is-- there are maybe a hundred vehicles here.

While we wait, we sit down in a wooden shelter.  The first thing I do is take off my hiking boots off and dig my runners out of my backpack and slip into them-- nothing like the comfort of old shoes!  This is the last time I will wear these hiking boots-- they are really sturdy and mostly water-proof.  One thing I learned is there is water-proof and then there is WATER-PROOF.   One way to test for water-proofing is to put your boots in a bucket of water for a few hours, and if the water doesn't soak up, they are water-proof.  I had bought a silicone treatment for the one boot that did leak (I treated both), however, the first day I sunk up above my boots, and even with gators, water slooshed around inside.  I had wet feet for the first few days of the trip.

The shuttle bus arrives about twenty minutes after we had get to the parking lot. Nobody disembarks so we assume no one else is starting on the hike from this end of the Trail.  We met some folks on the Trail who had chosen to do that, but generally people start with the more challenging beginning, as we did.

The driver snaps pictures of Brian and I with Brian's camera.  He hands us forms to fill out while we are driving.

45 minutes drive down a dusty logging road we arrive in Holberg, a village of about 300 people employed-- or connected to someone employed-- by the logging industry.  We pull up to an old wood-frame building overlooking the Inlet.  This is the famous Scarlet Ibis Pub and Restaurant.  We are excited to be here, finally having the first restaurant meal in over a week.  The four of us have the fish and chip special, a treat after roughing it for these 8 days in the wilderness.  Three pieces of deep-fried fish and I suck back a Heineken dark non-alcoholic beer.  What can I say?  I am from a German background, so even if I don't drink anymore, the non-alcoholic brew has the same effect of relaxing me and quenching my thirst.  I'm well beyond the novelty though-- at one time our younger son exclaimed, "Hey, Dad, you're drinking so many of those, if you don't watch out you'll be a non-alcoholic!"  The other three had real brews.

In the restaurant John, the shuttle driver, passes around "experience" forms for us to fill out.  Some of the questions were: "what was the highlight of your hike?" "where are you from?" etc.  He has taken our pictures in the parking lot and will put the printed photos in the Memory Book.  We have the opportunity to read about other people's reflections and comments about the hike, and look at their post-Trail photos.  There are about a hundred photos in the book.  About 500 people a year complete the trail. In comparison, about 6000 people a year complete the West Coast Trail.

We spend around an hour and a half in the restaurant, enjoying the ambience, conversations with other diners, and of course, food. About five minutes down the road in the bus the driver indicates an overgrown trail running through the trees to the left that he explains was the start of a half-finished access route to the Danish settlement over a hundred years ago.  Most of the Danes moved to Port Hardy, booming at that time, when their long-term plans for settlement and prosperity didn't work out.

About half-way between Holberg and Port Hardy we stop at the Boot Tree.  Tradition is that you hang your used hiking boots over the tree's branches.  Brian and I leave our damaged walking sticks there as well.

When we arrive back at Port Hardy it's around 4 pm, about an hour-and-a-half drive from the Cape Scott Trail Head parking lot.  We trail over to the marina and plug in some coins for a shower.  This is our first hot-water shower in eight days-- back to Civilization!

We pull into our driveway about 8pm.  Fittingly, my Sabbath has begun.
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Anything mentioned in this blog that is of a "health or medical nature" is the opinion and/or experience of the blogger and not an endorsement or a cure. Please see your trusted health professional.

Day #7- Laura Creek Campsite to Eric Lake Campsite

We wake up at 8 and go through our usual rituals.  I have my last smoothie.  My pack is now just over 32 pounds-- about 3 pounds of food left.  Two nights before I sacrificed my torn hiking pants in the camp fire, so that was like losing a pound.  I have also burned about 4 pairs of underwear to lighten the load.   Between the food and the clothing I've lost about 13 pounds of pack burden.  I probably weigh 5 pounds less as well.

We are all optimistic because we knew that the easiest portion of the hike lay ahead, except for today we know that we will be traveling about 22 km.

The weather is lovely again, in the mid-teens, sunny and dry.

Brian launches out ahead about 9:30, and I leave about 10:00 and the two women, shortly after.  Brian is thinking that he might want to take some side trips, possibly into Cape Scott.

The first portion of the hike is easy-peasy along the sandy beach.  This is the most beautiful and easiest  hike so far.  At the end of the beach I have to take the Nahwitti Cone Trail through the forest.  After an initial

pleasant trail experience, there is a steep climb that includes clambering over and around some uprooted trees, and then unfolds into some muddy sections, but they are still more moderate than we have encountered on the days before.  The Nahwitti Cone Trail I had expected to be less challenging.  However, there are three significant creek crossings over this five kilometer stretch.  The first crossing over a creek is over a bridge with handrails.  The path from the bridge leads up a steep hill that flattens at the top and then descends down a decline to cross back over the creek (I think it is the same creek) done by balancing on fallen trees and logs.

I fill my water bottles.  It was a steep rope climb from the creek bed back up to higher ground.  Back at the top the Trail flattens out and there were many boardwalks with only a few less muddy sections.  I stop for a break at Laughing Loon Lake (I have studied the map earlier).  Hearing the loon calls reminds me of living in Northern Saskatchewan in the 1970s.

I now definitely feel like I am on the home stretch, any real rough traveling is behind me.  There are no more rope climbs.  The path begins to wind down to the beach.  I can hear the crashing waves.  When I arrive I climb over some logs, and for about a kilometer of

beach and about half-way along there was a majestic uprooted yellow cedar.  I leaned against it and had a drink.  Darci and India catch up with me, and we talk about the immeasurable aesthetic, spiritual and ecological value of this tree. I feel that sinking-gut regret that I lost my camera, for this shot and for the other pictures that were on the camera.

The beach swarms with thousands of shore birds that screech at us intruders.

At the end of the beach, also known as Nissen Bight--the terminus of both North Coast Trail and Cape Scott Trail-- we officially complete our hike and let out a cheer.  I ask a couple of campers if they had seen Brian and they state that he have come through a couple of hours before.

Mid-afternoon by this point, we are a little daunted by the remaining 12 kilometers we have to travel to our campsite for the night.  The parking lot, where we meet with the shuttle tomorrow, is still 15.4 kilometers away.

I head out along a groomed trail through the forest that slopes upwards for about a half-hour before flattening out.  I feel good and hit a steady pace, repeatedly belting out the one verse I knew of The Song of the Happy Wanderer.
 I come to a T-junction about 2 1/2 kilometers along, and am surprised to meet up with Brian.  He'd gone down a trail to look at the remains of an old settlement-- not the "big" side trip he was hoping for, but a side trip, nonetheless.

Darci and India appear on the trail and went on a little ahead of us.  We enjoy quite a bit of boardwalk for the next few kilometers.

I lag behind a bit, feeling tired.  When I catch up to the others, they excitedly tell me that just a few minutes before a grey wolf had loped down the Trail right towards them, but when it was about 50-100 feet from them, it went off into the forest.  They were disappointed that I hadn't seen it.

Brian and I walk together, seeing park signs pointing to land leased a hundred years before by Danish immigrants.

At Fisherman River, 9.3 kilometers from Cape Scott Trail head, or about 6 kilometers from where we plan to camp for the night, we fill our water bottles.  From there we hike steady without any stops until we reach Eric Lake campsite.  It is the usual: muddy, rooty areas offset by the occasional boardwalk.

I am exhausted and relieved to arrive. We set up camp.  Even though there is very little dry wood, we put together a camp fire.  This is our first encounter with mosquitoes.  I massage my tired, numb, and hurting feet.  We rejoice in our weariness knowing that tomorrow's hike is only three and a half kilometers.
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Anything mentioned in this blog that is of a "health or medical nature" is the opinion and/or experience of the blogger and not an endorsement or a cure. Please see your trusted health professional.

Day #6 From Beyond Stranby River to Laura Creek

(Click on the top photo to see the Gallery of Day 6 photos)
When we wake up, the fears of the last night have vanished.  Weather-wise it's a beautiful day on the way.  There are still hot coals on the fire, so it's easy to get the campfire going.  The bear cache is intact again.

At about 9:30, Brian shows up.  He explains that he spent maybe about 2 hours in the dark forest looking for us.  Eventually he returned to the cable car, climbed up onto the platform, and spent the night there.  He says that during the night he heard the bears beneath him growling,  probably because he had invaded their territory.  Fortunately, bears cannot climb up metal ladders.

We haven't broken camp yet so Brian decides to hike ahead on his own.

Much of the day consists of beach sections, alternating between sand, gravel and cobble.  We consult the map many times today because we have to take short paths into the forest and back out onto the beach several times.  On several occasions we backtrack.

Today I enjoy the scenery more than any other day on the hike.  There is such variety including tidal pools, logs, rock shelves, thick beds of seaweed.  Some of the beach walking is hard on the ankles because there are many rounded rocks without any real solid footing.

About two hours along from the Campsite I sit down to have a drink of water.  I realized I no longer have my camera.  In panic I think of returning to look for it but I realize that that would likely be futile.  I am concerned that if I hike back too far I won't get to the Laura Creek Campsite until after dark.  I am thinking I may have left it at Christiansen's Point when I had a drink there.  To get my backpack off, I had to remove my camera.

Just after crossing Laura Creek we come across two young women with their tents pitched, having supper. They were headed to Shushartie Bay and I told them about my having lost my camera.  They said that they would keep an eye out for it, and if they found it they would turn it in to the shuttle operator.

The campsite was in the forest, just off the beach.  It was the only night of the seven nights that  we do not build a fire because there's no firepit close to our tent pads.  A beautiful, sunny day makes for a warm evening.

Shortly before we go to bed, Brian shoos off a bear that has been lingering around our campsite.

Day #5 - From Cape Sutil Campsite to Beyond Stranby River

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(Click on the top photo to see the Gallery of Day 5 photos)
We rise about 7 am and start to go through our usual routines.  We hit the road at about 10:30 am.

The path from the first Cape Sutil Beach zigzigs through the forest, up, down, and comes around at the Second Cape Sutil Beach.  We do not actually see Cape Sutil-- it is on Reserve Land.

We follow the beach and have to go through the forest again, and come out on the opposite side.   We hike a short distance to the next beach (referred to for our purposes, "Loggy Beach").  We encounter a number of logs that we had to traverse over.  We are now on the Southwest side of Cape Sutil.  Cobble for a while, smooth, and then we work our way inland again.  It is a tough climb to get up to a High Tide Trail that follows the tops of the cliffs and goes inland on the cliffs, and then goes back down to another beach.  We have to use ropes to haul ourselves up and over to yet another beach.

Almost immediately we need to start climbing again, using ropes.  Here is a vertical, extremely difficult section where we have to release one rope to grab and use another as we are descending.

I am first down the steep section and coach one of the woman to descend.  I suggested to Brian that he wear gloves to do the rope work.  He has his gloves in his backpack; he gestures and asked India if she will reach in and get them for him.  When she unzips the pack the bear spray tumbles out, followed by his water purification drops.  They fall irretrievably into a ravine at the base of the ropes and the bear spray cannister breaks into three parts.  Miraculously, Brian is able to salvage all three pieces and he manually operates the spray pump, using both hands, to send out a thin stream of spray.  He recognizes that the gadget is broken.  India, above and behind him, suddenly feels her throat go dry, and feels dizzy <--this demonstrates="" for="" how="" is.="" nbsp="" p="" potent="" spray="" the="" us="">
Brian picks up the broken pieces of the bear spray cannister and puts them into his back pack, along with the water purification kit.

We continue on to another beach-- it is easy to lose track of the different beaches, this is quite a long series of beaches.

We cross to the forest with the tombolo on the right.

We come out on the other side of the forest to another beach.  We are greeted by some fantastic rock formations: jagged, rugged, green.  We walk along a cobble beach.  We come to a very wide and rocky creek's mouth where water flows in a thin trickle down the middle portion, allowing us to breeze through, rock to rock, without getting our feet wet.

Brian walks just ahead of me.  I yell at him from behind, "Is this Irony Creek?"  He replies that he doesn't think it is.

We keep walking along a beautiful sandy beach-- the best walking beach of the hike.  It arks around to the right.  We hike along here for about forty-five minutes, enjoying the activities of the shore birds and the surf flashing in the sun.

We came to what turns out to be the Stranby River-- although we are still under the impression that it is Irony Creek-- and look for the Campsite on the opposite side.  The Tide is coming in --passage to the other side is an impossible feat.  We backtrack about a half kilometer and find an old settlers' corduroy road.  We follow this inland (parallel to the river).  The corduroy road crosses back and forth and we tire considerably, but finally make it to a cable car.  Darci says, "This has to be the Stranby River."  Brian is insistent that it is Irony Creek.

We pull ourselves on the cable car to the other side.  There is no signage.  It would be nice to know if it is the Stranby River we are crossing.

After crossing and climbing down from the cable car, we fill up our water bottles along the bank of the river.  We aren't sure how far it is to where we will pitch camp for the night.  It is about 8pm and dark is falling.

We head out along the Trail, flat but grossly disfigured by roots, fallen logs and mud, a difficult route in the fading light.  Brian opts to go ahead to find the campsite and I volunteer to wait for the women to catch up.  (Brian still believes that we had just crossed Irony Creek).

Darci and India join up with me and the three of us soldier on.  After about twenty minutes we catch a glimpse of river in the twilight.  The Trail curves to the left, away from the river, into a myriad of pathways and we just hope we are on the right one.  We have lost sight of Brian.  We begin yelling out for him.

We are eerily convinced we hear him two different times, but aren't sure what we hear  or what direction his voice is coming from.  Very creepy.

We stop to have a discussion about how to proceed.  We decide that I will backtrack to see if I can find Brian and they will continue on to locate a safe place to camp for the night.  Our theory is that Brian is below us along the beach beside the ocean, and that having heard his voice, I will backtrack to connect with him.

I turn on my heel, and taking out my small flashlight, I yell out for him as I walk.  I think this might keep the bears away.  I end up back as far as where I think I last heard his voice.  I take a path that I hope will lead to the ocean, but is a dead-end.  I am starting to worry.  I decide to head along the path to re-join up with Darci and India. It is darker now and hard to discern whether I am even on the right path.

In the meantime, the women have stumbled onto a 'pocket beach,' a crescent of sand with high rock piles on either side.  They decide against going further because they see no evidence of a campsite and no Brian, so they circle back and we meet on the path.  I report my findings (or lack thereof).  I suggest we camp on the pocket beach.

We arrive at the beach.  In the forest it is dark, but on the beach I can clearly see piles of rotting seaweed at the high tide mark.  We check out the end of the beach.  Rocks jut out to the ocean.    The women are concerned that the high tide would wash them away.  Darci is actually considering hitting the emergency button her "Spot".

On the mesa, the sand is fine and I point out that there are many boot prints, suggesting that the tide doesn't  rise this high and it will  make a good camp. They are still very nervous, because on the way over to the landrise we saw fresh bear scat on the beach.  I share some of my research that indicates there is no record of anyone having been killed by a bear on Vancouver Island.     I also mention that while I understand that an emergency evacuation is free if there is deemed a 'legitimate' reason, such as a hiker being injured in a condition not to be able to continue the hike, but that just being scared or tired does not qualify for a 'free rescue'.

We set up camp and get a big fire going.  We have something to eat and drink.  Darci asks me "What do you think happened to Brian?"  I reply that I assume that he is camping somewhere and he'll head out early in the morning and find us. I assure them that Brian was an experienced, skilled leader in Outdoors Education in his working years.  He knows how to survive in the wilderness as well as teach others these skills.

After eating we look for suitable trees to cache our food.  The tree that looked most promising was dead and the limb we throw our rope over breaks off.  We seal up all of the food so as to prevent odours.  I have separated zip lock bags that I contain in one large ziplock bag.  The women had special camping water-tight sacks.  They take the three food bags and they lie them on the sand, covering them with rotting sea weed, rocks and logs.  I think to myself, "this is ingenious".

This night the women decide to share one tent.  They also decide they will take turns, one doing 'bear watch' while the other one sleeps.  I say to them, "What good will that do?  If a bear comes in the middle of the night, you'll both be too tired to fight it off, plus you'll be dead tired in the morning."  So they decide to go to sleep.  By the time we retire, it is past midnight.

I pray that when we wake up in the morning that everything will be fine.
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 Anything mentioned in this blog that is of a "health or medical nature" is the opinion and/or experience of the blogger and not an endorsement or a cure. Please see your trusted health professional.