INTRO
"Sure" I said. I had always
wanted to do it. Years ago, a girlfriend of mine once agreed to do it with me,
but backed out before we had a chance to do it.
So I didn't get the chance to do it with her. Norm Edelmann, my boss at my new job, had asked me if I would like to join him, our Chief Architect, Gordon Derk, and Gord's son, Nick, to hike the fabled West Coast Trail (WCT). I knew Gord and Norm were accomplished hikers and I knew that I could handle anything some little trail on the West Coast could throw at me. So I agreed. Norm and I drove the breathtaking Yellowhead highway to Blue River, turned south, and marvelled at the size and beauty of our country as we wound our way down the Okanagan valley and into Vancouver and ultimately Victoria on Vancouver Island.
Our first day began harmlessly enough and was charged with excitement. Norm and I picked up Gord and his son Nick at a Safeway in Victoria and after some last minute film and snack purchases, set off on the road to Port Renfrew and the trailhead.
Even the road to the trailhead was exciting. It wound up and down, left and right through the dense forest and along the coast like a video game. The four of us listened to Gordon Lightfoot and sat wide-eyed as we blazed through this fantastic road. I had insisted on Gordon Lightfoot because I wanted all of us to learn a hiking song. I understood that we would be hiking many hours and thought it would be good if the group had something to pass the time and entertain us. Prior to picking up the group, while we were waiting at the trailhead to get on, I had sat and written out the lyrics of my favourite Gordo song,"Don Quixote."
At trailhead, we watched a cheesy video trumpeting the challenge and difficulty of the trail ahead of us and then listened to the trail matron, Mimi. She gave us a short but excellent history of the trail and walked us through precautions and responsibilities.
She told us about a number of the personalities associated with the trail, including a man named Logan, who during the late 1800s was responsible for maintaining the telegraph line the trail was built for. The British had strung a line across the Pacific in order to establish communication with the rest of the empire. Logan was reportedly paid so poorly by the Crown, that he could not afford shoes and so maintained the telegraph line barefoot.
Mimi talked about bears and campsites
and ladders and "red tide." She took our money and explained how to
use and interpret tide tables. She finished with a strong, but gentle, suggestion
to be careful and pay attention to each step.
"It's going to be very slippery out there today. With this kind of rain,
rocks and roots will be especially slippery and that's how ankles get twisted
and bones get broken."
She continued on the depth of our investment. "This is going to be a tough hike. You can be evacuated if you are injured and cannot hike. But we will not pull you off the trail if you are tired or worn-out." For me, these words dug deeply and took root. "No fucking around, Jimbo," I thought to myself. "You have to stay healthy for seven days or your life going to get really shitty."
By the time we were finished the
orientation checked our packs and parked the car, it had been pouring steadily
for four or five hours. It was 1:00 p.m. and we were ready to tackle this trail.
According to the plan that Nick had carefully put together, we would only have
to do 6 km to get to our planned campsite.
© Jim Knutsen 2001