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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