It’s now been just about a month since Julia and I flew to Victoria with 50 lb backpacks, lots freeze-dried food, and three litres of camping fuel. Our intent, of course, was to spend ten days hiking the 75km stretch of backcountry trail called the “West Coast Trail.”

The trail was created by the Canadian Government around the turn of the century. Originally called the “Life-saving trail,” the WCT served as the point at which the survivors of shipwrecks could be accessed and rescued. For a good long while now, it’s served as a hiking trail maintained by Parks Canada and three Aboriginal tribes whose lands the trail passes through.

This year was the trail’s 100th anniversary. Since we’d talked about hiking it for so long, Julia decided it was time to suck it up and just go. So we booked all our travel, permits, and accomms at each end of the trip, bought gear and food, packed and got ready to haul all this stuff on our backs for over a week.

And really, when you think about it, 75km isn’t that far. If you’re really hoofing it, you could probably cover that ground in a day. On flat ground. On flat paved ground. And that was sort of my attitude going into it.

I’ve been backcountry hiking before, and I’ve done more than two dozen day hikes in the Canadian Rockies. But I’m not in the greatest shape of my life. Still, I didn’t figure this trip would be quite as exhausting as it was. This is all completely mitigated by where you are when you’re on the trail, and that fact that you’re actually, you know, doing it. But still: we planned for ten days on the trail. In reality we stayed for eight. Here’s a multi-part series about our adventures on Canada’s beautiful West Coast Trail.

Day 0

We arrived in Victoria in the evening, having struggled that morning back in Edmonton to ensure our packs could hold everything, and that they’d make it past the airport security people without hassle. It was a busy morning, as we had to also get the dogs to the kennel, which is past the airport. A lot of driving around. I was looking forward to parking my car for ten days.

When we arrived in Vic, we took the airport shuttle to our hotel, checked in, bought some food for the evening and generally just acted lazy. We tried to expend as little energy as possible. I filled up our fuel bottles with the white gas that had been purchased for us, and dropped off at our hotel by friends of ours in Victoria. I stupidly haven’t thanked them for doing that for us yet.

We slept early. We had a bus to catch the next morning at 6am.

Day 1

5:30am wake-up. Walk five mins down the street to catch the Trail Bus. 6:00am we leave. Two hours later we drop off some hikers at the Port Renfrew stop. Pick up a few other hikers. Then, for the next 3.5 hours, we drive the bumpy, winding logging roads across to the Bamfield side of the island. We’re dropped off at around 12:30pm, a half an hour before our scheduled trail orientation. We won’t get onto the trail until about 2pm.

At the orientation, we’re warned of campground wash-outs, cougars and bears, and various other reported hazards from the trail. I’m amazed when an elderly fellow walks into the park office and tells us he’s just finished the trail—solo—in six days. This dude had to be in his late 60s. And walking the trail for him seemed like it wasn’t a big deal. So it shouldn’t be for me, right? Uh. Right.

We leave the trail office after filing all our documents and buying ferry passes (mid-way through the trail is a giant tidal river at Nitinat Narrows that’s impossible to cross except by boat), lug our packs onto our backs, and start the 12km we’re meant to cover that afternoon. We made for Michigan Creek campground, which we’re told by several finishing hikers was very busy. We cross a beach, realize the videocamera we’ve brought is busted (later discovering this is due to a manufacturing error and learn of a recall taking place) and haul ourselves across about 11km of wet, muddy overland trail.

Walk 1km through a city, and it probably won’t take you that long. But kilometres on this trail are tough slogs. Big tree roots or soft sinking sand add a ton of slow-down to what might otherwise only take a few hours. That first day, all told, we hiked about 5.5 or six hours. And that was with about 30 minutes of stop-time to take photos, eat, and explore the grounds of the Pachena Lighthouse.

By the time we arrived at Michigan, we were tired, sweaty, and hungry. But we were treated to a beautiful sunset (see the top of the post), in front of which countless gray whales were breaching in the distance. We met a wonderful couple from Arizona, Jeff and Cheryl, who we would see often over the next few days. And we didn’t have to walk again until the next morning!

Now that we’re back home, the thing I miss the most about the Trail is the constant, reassuring sound of the ocean as the tide advances and recedes. You fall asleep to it every night. And this first night was heavenly, but for the sounds of mice scurrying all around our tent.

In my next post, I’ll tell you about the two wonderful nights we spent at one of the most beautiful places on this planet. I cried the day we left. I would have stayed forever if I could have.

>> see also:

• Days 2 & 3
• Days 4 & 5

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Working for oneself is an incredible, exhausting, and rewarding experience. And it’s little gems like the one below, courtesy one of my partners, that makes the experience often gut-busting. Just when levity is needed, it arrives:

Unless a huge show-stopper crops up, I want [the software] to be released by the end of the day. It’s going to suck, so we’ll have to really stress the alphaness of the software, and tell them that they’re seeing software when most people shouldn’t.

I’m still working on retrieving contacts so it doesn’t hammer the server. That’ll be done shortly, then I need to really lock down the sign up process to avoid confusion.

Also, I just took a fantastic poo. It was magnificent.

Thanks for that, Jeffu.

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This is from a sort-of joke email I wrote to a co-worker about another co-worker—a very mysterious engineer who looks and sounds like he’s lived 100 lives already. I wish he and I were friends…

I love Steve’s coat. I wish that Steve would be my friend and we could drink Jack Daniel’s together and talk about how dumb everyone is and he could tell me about the days when he rode across North America in a box car and traded food stamps and liquor with other tramps and then magically got into university and became an engineer slash business man and started to climb the corporate ladder and how he eats only really healthy food now but that is all counteracted by the fact that he smokes seven packs a day and has a gravelly voice and could be a great jazz musician if he really put his mind to it.

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Where my summer plans were up in the air before, I now know that at the end of June I will both treat and punish myself by walking 77 kilometers along Vancouver Island from Port Renfrew to Bamfield. The people at I-needtoknow.com have this to say about the West Coast Trail, and more:

it’s a near perfect hiking experience in pristine Canadian wilderness

on no other trek have we taken as many photos

mystic dawns and mind-blowing sunsets

pretty beaches, cool caves, hidden pocket coves, weird cliffs and coastal geology

it’s challenging — though 99% of those who start (somehow) finish

thrilling boulder and log walking between Thrasher & Owen Point

scrambling up slippery Sandstone Creek

playing at Hole in the Wall

impossibly situated pretty Tsusiat Falls

walking in impressive old growth forest

share the trip with whales, sea lions, mink. Maybe bear and cougar. Or even wolves!

ship wrecks and other historical artifacts

cable cars and ladders can be “fun”

campfires below the tide line

no biting insects

So you can see that Fish and I are in for some challenges. Between now and when we leave, we’re both training to get closer to peak physical condition. For the rest of the summer, I’ll be biking to work every day (unless it snows, like it’s supposed to next week) and training at the gym about five times per week.

This process overrides the Fat Zombie mission. Since I got my bike a few weeks ago, I’ve trimmed down, but not lost any weight. So now it’s Training for the WCT. I may or may not keep you updated on my progress.

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So, I noted that I recently rejoined Facebook, although in a much more diminished capacity. I have not filled in any profile details about myself, and I’m being much more selective about who I befriend. Not because I’m a grouch, but because I’d prefer to maintain contact with those people in my life who are important to me, rather than be concerned with what Johnny Douchebag from high school can glean from my profile.

Having been back on the social network for under a week, I’m finding myself far less motivated to participate as much as I had before. Facebook is a communications tool for me. It’s not an ERP that will help launch my career, organize my life, or do my dishes. Nor is it a gaming platform, or a place for me to publish my interests to the masses. That’s what this blog is for, and I have much more control over how Pseudo Psyence behaves. Thus I will treat Facebook as a diversion.

I realize that when I disabled and zapped my account, Facebook likely kept all my demographic information, so really there’s nothing to hide from. But I won’t provide the network with more fodder so I can be advertised to. The irony is that I’m working with partners right now to develop a software application that will serve ads based upon users’ personal information. I will happily use this system, because it provides significantly more value than Facebook, and we’re designing it so it will never spam anyone ever.

Like, ever.

So welcome back to Facebook, me. You swore you’d never return, but you realized after a fashion that it’s better to be a part of the system and to analyze its failings from within than to not participate at all. Sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it?

Then colour me excused.

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Paul—a friend of mine whose passion for music is matched by a very select few other people I know—got really big into mash-ups a few years back. He went from listening to music on CD, to MP3 and vinyl, and now the man remixes his own tracks. And kids, these mixes are excellent get-you-dancin’ mash-ups.

If you have a second, peep Paulcasts.com.

My discovery of Paul’s new website was prompted by something I’ll be writing about later on today or tomorrow: I’m back on Facebook. Stay turned for a list of reasons and excuses.

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