Hiking the West Coast Trail - Vancouver Island, BC
(70th Birthday Card from My Friend John Stalzer)
(70th Birthday Card from My Friend John Stalzer)
During my life thus far, my two feet have covered a lot of ground; from the shores of the west coast of BC to the shores of the arctic and many places in between. One thing I've always enjoyed and still would enjoy is a good walk or hike where few people have trod before. A friend of mine, Ruth McDonough is currently in Kathmandu, Nepal, soon to be hiking to the base camp of Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world. A part of me envies Ruth but the aching parts of my body do not.
The photo shows me as a young man, about 44 years of age, packing, as I recall, 60lbs on my back. One would think that after hiking approximately 50 miles over rather rugged terrain (not pictured - one of many cedar boardwalks that had been built across bogs, which made the going much easier) my backpack would have been lighter but when I returned home and weighed it, the souvenirs I'd picked up along the way added an additional 10lbs to the weight.
I'd never hiked anywhere special until the West Coast Trail, (WCT) matter of fact had never even heard of it until my friend John Stalzer came over one day and said, "I'm going to hike the WCT? Do you want to come?" After he described where he was going and since I had some free time on my hands, we soon bought some necessary gear such as backpacks, pots, pans, boots, food, tent, etc., etc. When we had all of our stuff, since neither of us had hiked before with a full backpack, we knocked back a few beers, loaded it up and went for a short trial walk down a road that had a few small hills. We only walked about a mile to the end of the road and back and although we were somewhat exhausted upon our return, our spirits weren't dampened.
If memory serves me right, we hiked the WCT, beginning at Gordon River to Bamfield at a leisurely pace in 5 days. We could have done it in less time but the scenic beauty and the weather was fabulous; so what was the rush? John, who was a heavy smoker in those days, had decided he wouldn't take any cigarettes along on the hike but as luck would have it, towards evening on the second day of our journey, after we had pitched our camp on a beautiful sandy beach, he found a tin half full of tobacco washed up on the shore. With a little ingenuity of melting some wax into the sand and inserting a hollow reed, he was soon merrily smoking his homemade pipe. Upon reaching Nitinat Narrows, we were greeted by a friendly native who ferried us across the narrows (noted for its swift current and many people have drowned there) in a small aluminum skiff. We had heard from another hiker we'd met during one of our rests, the ferryman also bootlegged a little and we were able to buy a case of cold beer from him - what a treat! So by the time, we reached Tsusiat Falls later that day and set up camp, we were able to enjoy some cold beers too!
Tsusiat Falls, although the falls plunged into a large pool on the beach before winding its way into the Pacific Ocean was not overly spectacular. However, being a hot day, we were soon frolicking in the cool clear water. I had quite the experience when I climbed a little way up the falls, the water cascading down in front of me, when I dived into the pool and then came up close to the shore; a beautiful woman, the sun glinting on her long brown hair was standing right in front of me. I'm surprised I remember her face and long hair because she was totally nude and her bare breasts were almost touching my face when I suddenly emerged from the water. We spent a couple of days at Tsusiat Falls, just basking on the beach, swimming in the pool and enjoying our cold beer. The hike from the falls to Bamfield (approx. 18 miles) was pretty much uneventful, nothing like when we returned a few years later to recapture the good time we had - this time we became involved in a cougar attack on a young boy.
John and I had decided to hike the WCT from Bamfield to Gordon River and not being in any kind of physical shape, were very tired by the time we reached Michigan Creek, which was a distance of about 10 miles. The sun was just beginning to set and we were laying on our backs on the beach when we noticed a woman with long blonde hair running towards us. At the time, a popular TV ad about a pretty woman running towards a man with the caption, "the closer she gets, the better she looks" could be seen and we grinned and winked at each other as she ran towards us splashing through the shallow creek. However, as she drew closer and we could hear her yelling, "Are any of you guys a doctor?" and could see all the blood on her, we knew this was nothing like the TV ad. After telling us what happened and realizing we weren't doctors, she continued running to Pachena Point where a forest ranger was staying, so she could get help. After quickly talking over the situation with John, and since it would soon be dark, we decided I should go to the Darling River to help out as much as I could and he should stay behind to set up our camp.
Upon reaching the running woman's camp alongside the Darling River, a very short distance from the Pacific Ocean, I was greeted by a frantic, pretty woman with short, black hair who literally threw herself into my arms. As I tried to calm her down, she pointed with a hunting knife, which she had broken the handle off beating on a large pot, to a thick growth of brush beside some large logs that were lying alongside the river and said, "I just saw the cougar a few moments ago before you arrived!" I decided to get her busy in order to help keep her mind off the terrifying situation by packing up the camp, while I checked on the boy and his mother who were in a nearby tent. The boy's head had been severely mauled and he had a deep gash on his throat but since he was lying comfortably, most likely unconscous and there was nothing I could really do, I went back to keeping the terrified woman busy by helping me heap arm loads of driftwood into a huge pile. She seemed to calm down, even though it was dark, once I lit the fire, huge flames soon reaching into the sky, lighting up the whole area.
It wasn't long before a helicopter arrived and hovered over the beach. After a yellow cord was tossed out, several men dressed in red outfits slid down the cord and hurried over to the tent with a stretcher. In what seemed like only a couple of minutes, everyone and all the camping gear was packed aboard the chopper and I was standing alone on the beach, with thoughts of a nearby man-eating cougar running through my mind.
As I walked back along the beach, just inches away from the sea in the dark, I could see John's campfire glowing in the distance about a mile away and it felt reassuring and most of all; safe.
The next morning, we continued down the beach past the Darling River until we reached Tsusiat Falls. The weather had changed; instead of being sunny, it was soon drizzling and then turning into rain. Everything was wet and we weren't relishing the thought of putting up the tent in the pouring rain. After looking around for a little while for a bit of shelter from the wind and rain to set up our camp, we discovered a large cave. Although it was very dry inside, we could see by the amount of driftwood strewn about that the ocean had at times came right into the cave. Although the waves were quite large as they rolled onto the beach, we decided to take a chance and set up camp. We stayed for a couple days while it rained and even tried to encourage a few campers to join us but they wouldn't, most likely thought we were mad to camp in a cave, which had the possibility of filling up with seawater. But we just laughed at them from the warm, dry comfort of our cave as we watched them getting soaking wet.
Somehow, I guess because of the cougar attack and the lousy weather, when the sun finally appeared, our interest had waned in finishing off the hike, so we decided to return to Bamfield and go home. I can't remember two of the women's or the little boy's name but the running blonde woman, Debbie Maher and the frantic woman, walked into my sign shop one day and took me out for a beer. I can still see Debbie standing as tall as her 5' nothing body could stand, holding up a glass of beer over her head and heartily saying, "Here's to adventure!" - cheers - eh!
The photo shows me as a young man, about 44 years of age, packing, as I recall, 60lbs on my back. One would think that after hiking approximately 50 miles over rather rugged terrain (not pictured - one of many cedar boardwalks that had been built across bogs, which made the going much easier) my backpack would have been lighter but when I returned home and weighed it, the souvenirs I'd picked up along the way added an additional 10lbs to the weight.
I'd never hiked anywhere special until the West Coast Trail, (WCT) matter of fact had never even heard of it until my friend John Stalzer came over one day and said, "I'm going to hike the WCT? Do you want to come?" After he described where he was going and since I had some free time on my hands, we soon bought some necessary gear such as backpacks, pots, pans, boots, food, tent, etc., etc. When we had all of our stuff, since neither of us had hiked before with a full backpack, we knocked back a few beers, loaded it up and went for a short trial walk down a road that had a few small hills. We only walked about a mile to the end of the road and back and although we were somewhat exhausted upon our return, our spirits weren't dampened.
If memory serves me right, we hiked the WCT, beginning at Gordon River to Bamfield at a leisurely pace in 5 days. We could have done it in less time but the scenic beauty and the weather was fabulous; so what was the rush? John, who was a heavy smoker in those days, had decided he wouldn't take any cigarettes along on the hike but as luck would have it, towards evening on the second day of our journey, after we had pitched our camp on a beautiful sandy beach, he found a tin half full of tobacco washed up on the shore. With a little ingenuity of melting some wax into the sand and inserting a hollow reed, he was soon merrily smoking his homemade pipe. Upon reaching Nitinat Narrows, we were greeted by a friendly native who ferried us across the narrows (noted for its swift current and many people have drowned there) in a small aluminum skiff. We had heard from another hiker we'd met during one of our rests, the ferryman also bootlegged a little and we were able to buy a case of cold beer from him - what a treat! So by the time, we reached Tsusiat Falls later that day and set up camp, we were able to enjoy some cold beers too!
Tsusiat Falls, although the falls plunged into a large pool on the beach before winding its way into the Pacific Ocean was not overly spectacular. However, being a hot day, we were soon frolicking in the cool clear water. I had quite the experience when I climbed a little way up the falls, the water cascading down in front of me, when I dived into the pool and then came up close to the shore; a beautiful woman, the sun glinting on her long brown hair was standing right in front of me. I'm surprised I remember her face and long hair because she was totally nude and her bare breasts were almost touching my face when I suddenly emerged from the water. We spent a couple of days at Tsusiat Falls, just basking on the beach, swimming in the pool and enjoying our cold beer. The hike from the falls to Bamfield (approx. 18 miles) was pretty much uneventful, nothing like when we returned a few years later to recapture the good time we had - this time we became involved in a cougar attack on a young boy.
John and I had decided to hike the WCT from Bamfield to Gordon River and not being in any kind of physical shape, were very tired by the time we reached Michigan Creek, which was a distance of about 10 miles. The sun was just beginning to set and we were laying on our backs on the beach when we noticed a woman with long blonde hair running towards us. At the time, a popular TV ad about a pretty woman running towards a man with the caption, "the closer she gets, the better she looks" could be seen and we grinned and winked at each other as she ran towards us splashing through the shallow creek. However, as she drew closer and we could hear her yelling, "Are any of you guys a doctor?" and could see all the blood on her, we knew this was nothing like the TV ad. After telling us what happened and realizing we weren't doctors, she continued running to Pachena Point where a forest ranger was staying, so she could get help. After quickly talking over the situation with John, and since it would soon be dark, we decided I should go to the Darling River to help out as much as I could and he should stay behind to set up our camp.
Upon reaching the running woman's camp alongside the Darling River, a very short distance from the Pacific Ocean, I was greeted by a frantic, pretty woman with short, black hair who literally threw herself into my arms. As I tried to calm her down, she pointed with a hunting knife, which she had broken the handle off beating on a large pot, to a thick growth of brush beside some large logs that were lying alongside the river and said, "I just saw the cougar a few moments ago before you arrived!" I decided to get her busy in order to help keep her mind off the terrifying situation by packing up the camp, while I checked on the boy and his mother who were in a nearby tent. The boy's head had been severely mauled and he had a deep gash on his throat but since he was lying comfortably, most likely unconscous and there was nothing I could really do, I went back to keeping the terrified woman busy by helping me heap arm loads of driftwood into a huge pile. She seemed to calm down, even though it was dark, once I lit the fire, huge flames soon reaching into the sky, lighting up the whole area.
It wasn't long before a helicopter arrived and hovered over the beach. After a yellow cord was tossed out, several men dressed in red outfits slid down the cord and hurried over to the tent with a stretcher. In what seemed like only a couple of minutes, everyone and all the camping gear was packed aboard the chopper and I was standing alone on the beach, with thoughts of a nearby man-eating cougar running through my mind.
As I walked back along the beach, just inches away from the sea in the dark, I could see John's campfire glowing in the distance about a mile away and it felt reassuring and most of all; safe.
The next morning, we continued down the beach past the Darling River until we reached Tsusiat Falls. The weather had changed; instead of being sunny, it was soon drizzling and then turning into rain. Everything was wet and we weren't relishing the thought of putting up the tent in the pouring rain. After looking around for a little while for a bit of shelter from the wind and rain to set up our camp, we discovered a large cave. Although it was very dry inside, we could see by the amount of driftwood strewn about that the ocean had at times came right into the cave. Although the waves were quite large as they rolled onto the beach, we decided to take a chance and set up camp. We stayed for a couple days while it rained and even tried to encourage a few campers to join us but they wouldn't, most likely thought we were mad to camp in a cave, which had the possibility of filling up with seawater. But we just laughed at them from the warm, dry comfort of our cave as we watched them getting soaking wet.
Somehow, I guess because of the cougar attack and the lousy weather, when the sun finally appeared, our interest had waned in finishing off the hike, so we decided to return to Bamfield and go home. I can't remember two of the women's or the little boy's name but the running blonde woman, Debbie Maher and the frantic woman, walked into my sign shop one day and took me out for a beer. I can still see Debbie standing as tall as her 5' nothing body could stand, holding up a glass of beer over her head and heartily saying, "Here's to adventure!" - cheers - eh!
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