Turns out that June 6th 2021 was maybe not the best time to run the West Coast Trail. It was closed all of 2020 and did not see any humans for that entire year. Inland sections had grown over in some spots as they do and trail workers had not quite managed to fix it up by the time I passed through. There were a few rotten bridges and sections of very bad deadfall, but much of this I anticipated. This trail takes some serious time and effort to maintain. The tides that day would also not be in my favour, hitting high tide just when I was planning on getting to long beach sections. This would force me to run on the very slow and technical inland routes. Regardless of all this, I didn't want to give up on my permit or let down my wife and friends that took the time to come and support me. How bad could it be?
It started with the second of two sleepless nights. I tossed and turned in a tent listening to the quiet patter of rain and envisioned all the terrible things that could go wrong while running the 75km technical terrain of the West Coast Trail. I was imagining how terrible the weather was going to be as forecasted on the days leading up to the run. I thought of all the injuries I could easily sustain grinding against the rough trail. I ran over and over the thought of cougars stalking me... Bears charging me... wolves watching me... not making the half way ferry across Nitinat....
We exit the paddle board and head up the bank for the trail. It's a bit of a tricky start and I find what seems to be the old way to start at the 75km sign. It is a bit if a bushwhack to get to the new and improved route. Off we trot in the dark and I get my first taste of how treacherous this trail really is. Much of the start of the trail never sees the light of day, hidden away in the deep dark old growth. Everything, and I mean everything- rocks, logs, roots, and bridges are coated in marine algae. It is unbelievably slippery and I almost have a couple bad falls. I slow my pace considerably and take to a fast hike. The trail is hard to follow at times. In a couple spots Lauren and I get turned around and head off trail. But soon we get into a rhythm, just grinding along slowly and surely. I am thankful for Lauren's company, but she warns that soon she will turn back, as planned.
After a couple hours, and not much distance gained, Lauren says her goodbyes. It is daylight now, but you can hardly tell in the deep dark forest. I get a deep pit in my stomach thinking of how lonely and how scared I will be with all the uncertainty ahead. We sound our airhorns as she leaves and I laugh. I choose to carry an airhorn rather than pepper spray to give animals fair warning and a good scare.
Time creeped by until eventually I arrived at Walbran Creek. I down climbed another series of ladders to discover another cable car crossing. My hope was to skip this one and possibly just walk across the river, however, I could see that the river had a very deep final channel that I would be over my waist. I also saw that I could head out on to the beach here if the tide was low, but it was exactly high tide... Another inland trail it was... Part way up the series of ladders to climb out of the river crossing I ran into a couple. They told me promptly to go back to the beach. I explained that it was high tide and not passable. They shot back warnings of the terrible conditions ahead, and were not lying. Much of this particular section was overgrown with prickly salmon berry bushes and covered in dead fall. At one point I lost the trail. Time slowed... The eventual down-climb back to the beach was completed in fear with a series of rotten ladders missing rungs...
Just like a bird bursting free from a cage, I emerged onto my first section of beach. It was glorious! The rain slowed to a spit and I took in the open air. The scene was stunning as powerful waves crashed onto the beach. I finally sped up to a trot and made some gains working my way up the coast. The ground was a firm-ish sand and the kilometres seemed to flow by easily. I passed Bonilla point and could see the Carmanah Point Lighthouse peeking out in the distance. I glanced at my watch and realized that I was going to have to start to make some serious gains if I wanted to get to the water taxi before the final shuttle for the day. This made me uneasy... This was not something I thought was going to be an issue. I gave myself a lot of time...
Here I passed the first of two signs warning of a recent cougar spotting. This particular cougar was said to be healthy, but had made itself visible. I however felt pretty good at the time having just seen other people. I kept my wits about me and moved along the coast. Here I got to a couple more places where I was forced inland due to a higher tide. Again this made for slow progress, but I kept on moving at a steady pace. Eventually I reached another beach warning of a cougar in the area. I had heard that this particular cougar was emaciated and much harder to scare off... I blew my airhorn a few times for good measure and yelled loudly when I could. The setting was a bit eery and dark with the rain. I was soaked and getting quite chilled. I passed a few cabins and then turned inland for the final time before the water taxi. The crunch time was on, I needed to be there by 1630.
After a very cruisey section of new boardwalk I popped out at the Nitinat Ferry and Chez Monique's at 1530. It was nice to see people, but I surprised them a bit. They didn't really expect anyone this late in the day, and since the trail just opened they hadn't seen many hikers. They actually mentioned that I was the first person that was going to complete the trail from South to North this year(if I finished). I wanted to stay and have some food, but my day was extended hours beyond what I intended. Also, as soon as I stopped moving I started to feel extremely cold. As a matter of fact I put on my rain pants for some extra warmth. They shuttled me to the other side and mentioned that they hoped to see me again. It made my heart smile to have run into such nice people.
Once on the other side I knew my work was cut out for me. I had 32k to go and I knew that somewhere along the way Darryl would be there to guide me over the last few kilometres. The trail meandered around in the forest and the mud, skirting some comfort camping cabins, until eventually I came back out onto the beloved beach. The beach was sinking sand and pea gravel, but still easier than the inland trails. The tide was nice and low and I knew I would not need to worry about it for the duration of my trip. This stretch of coastline was stunning. I passed a huge sea arch and ran down the beach to check out Tsusiat Falls. I was seeing more and more hikers and felt less alone. After climbing the many ladders above Tsusiat Falls I turned a corner and there was Darryl! I was elated! A familiar face, finally. Someone on my team! I gave her a hug and she informed me that she packed a burger and a can of pop. I gladly obliged, having been quite nauseated all day and not interested in all that much of my food. I was so impressed she made it all this way. We carried on running and came to a final cable crossing, I was happy to bid it farewell! The farther north we ran the clearer the sky became until light hit me just as the sun was getting low in the sky. It was absolutely magical. |
At long last we hit the end of the coastline part of the trail and headed inland one last time for the final 12k. It was getting quite dark and I intermittently turned my headlamp on and off as I lost light. The trail was nice and easy for the most part. Some mud, but a gentle grade. I was slowly losing energy and getting quite cold as darkness fell. We ran to the sounds if sea lions grumbling down at the ocean below.
As time wore on the wheels started to fall off the bus. I was tired from lack of sleep and drained from the days events. I slowed to a simple walk to stop myself from slipping on the wet and dark terrain. The kilometres slowed and time crawled by. Darryl kept me motivated and kept me moving. The trail seemed never ending, but eventually we hit that 1km sign and began descending the final series of ladders down to Pachena Bay. It was a bit of a sad finish at a parking lot void of any other humans and in the dark. It was cold and I longed to sit down and warm up. It was 2330 when we started to drive away. Nowhere near my goal finish time, but it was over nonetheless. In the end I am impressed that I was able to endure those conditions and keep one foot in front of the other. On to the next one!