This is a Vacation?

West Coast Trail: Part I

By Erik Minty

This was not supposed to be a vacation. Many times have I heard that old saw, "The West Coast Trail is one of the most challenging hiking trails in North America." So far, nada. Tuna sandwiches, sitting on a high, dry rock, basking in the sunshine, watching the waves swell, rise, froth and break, unleashing their fury built up for thousands of miles as they hurled themselves desperately against the unforgiving rocks. Okay, so I got a little poetic there, but I grew up by the ocean, and if you've never seen the open coast of Vancouver Island, you've missed out big time.

But what challenge, I asked? We left the north trailhead at Pachena Bay (near Bamfield, on Vancouver Island) at 10:30, and by sometime after noon we got the growlies so we found a semi-convenient beach access trail (okay, negotiating the path down was a little hairy with a 50-pound pack on, even with the ropes). And we had lunch. Oh yes, I forgot to mention. "We" being myself, Brian Dick, and Ondrej Hron (a couple of 'geers gone to Physics and Philosophy and just about anything else starting with a 'p' that sounds like an 'f').

"Hey, Ondrej! Get a picture of me standing on that rock down there with the waves breaking around me!" So I'm standing on this rock, watching the waves breaking nicely around me. Brian has also climbed down to get a better look, and suddenly begins to scramble back up with a hint of terror on his face. Silly me. I had to turn around to find out why.

Now this is one of those moments that in reality only lasts a second or two, but time just has no meaning because all you can see is an ominous wall of blackish green that seems to occupy the entire visible universe, and you've got all the time you could ever want to think things like "gosh I'm going to get wet" and realize that you aren't in the best position to be hit head-on by a wave that's bigger than you are, and that getting wet might just be the least of your concerns.

Amazingly enough, I did not die, but moments later found myself madly clutching to a rock of slightly higher elevation, with so many thoughts buzzing around it made my head spin. "Uh, I think the tide's starting to come in" spoke Ondrej, evidently the grand master of observation.

After much drying off in the sun, it was time to depart this place where God had decided to teach me a teensy lesson in humility, and continue on our trek. Tuna sandwiches have a wonderful way of making climbing easier, and once again we were back up on the trail. The trail here stays above the bluffs and occasionally one gets a glimpse of the open sea. I think I shall never forget the awesome sight of this. But at last, the time came to choose our place to camp for the night, and we did so.

No need to pitch a tent, our intrepid band was to sleep quite peacefully under the stars that night, with our bellies full of spaghetti (the last real meal we would eat in a week). Yes, peacefully we slept, with a full day's worth of memories to last a lifetime, and with a whole week yet before our epic journey would come to an end.

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