Keeha/Cape Beale Trails

Well, I haven't been out on the trail in the past couple weeks for a few reasons. First, the weather out here has been terrible. It poured rain all of the past week. The sun is now shining brightly, so I'm hoping it will dry up for my next expedition out on Tuesday. The second reason is I rolled my ankle while out on a hike to Keeha Beach, and I've been trying to take it easy and let it heal so I'm good to go for the rest of the hiking season.

But I've been doing a lot of interesting trail-related stuff and learning quite a bit about the local environment. When I rolled my ankle I was out on a hike with a class from the Bamfield Marine Station summer university program in Ethnobotany. Ethnobotany is an interdisciplinary combination of botany and anthropology, looking at the traditional knowledge of plants and both their cultural and ecological roles. Although I wasn't taking the course, I had the opportunity to participate in a few of their field activities, including the hike out to Keeha and a traditional pit cook on Pachena beach. I also, to test the mettle of my ankle after a week of rest, hiked out to the Cape Beale.

First, a little bit about Keeha and Cape Beale. Both of these are hikes are day-hikes with overnight possibilities. They are both trails located within the West Coast Trail Unit of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, but are not at this moment truely connected to the West Coast Trail. However, it is apparently possible, although I haven't done it yet, to hike from Pachena, out to join these two trails, and then on to Bamfield, as that was the route of the original life-saving trail that the West Coast Trail was based on.

These two trails are not maintained to the same level as the West Coast Trail, despite being in the national park reserve. Although relatively short (3.5 km and 6.5 km each way, respectively) they are over some relatively rough and often very wet terrain. If you hike these trail after a wet week, like I did, it can add quite a bit of time to your journey. For example, to hike the entire 13 km to Cape Beale lighthouse and back it took us about seven hours, at a moderate pace with breaks. However, is we had hiked the trail during a dry spell, I bet it would have taken us at least 2 hours less. Slippery logs and roots abound, as do giant mud puddles, on both trails. Thus the rolled ankle and mutliple bruises, as if you hike either of these trails in wet weather, you WILL fall. We pretty much all had a good slip or two.

Keeha is a beautiful beach a designated backcountry campground. At the north end of the beach there is an old Huu-ay-aht village sight. Please respect First Nations cultural heritage and be aware that this part of the beach is treaty settlement lands, as well as national park.

Brief rest at the Keeha/Tapaltos-Cape Beale junction with Prim the wonder-dog

The Keeha and Cape Beale trails split  off at after about 1 km. To get the Cape Beale, go right, following the sign to Tapaltos, which is a beach aproximately halfway to Cape Beale. Apparently local surfers like the waves at Talpatos, and there's some interesting flotsam and jetsam, including an old linesmans cabin, on Tapaltos.

Respite from the many stairs ascending to the lighthouse

Cape Beale is the oldest lighthouse on Vancouver Island, and was established in 1874. It is still a manned light, with the lighthouse keepers living there year round and tending quite a fabulous garden. When we arrrived at the lighthouse we were greeted by the lighthouse keepr Karen and her dog Pepper. She generously offered us a pot of tea, and plate of delcious homebaked oatmeal-chocolate cookies, which we enjoyed while sitting out in front of the lighthouse and enjoyed the view. You do have to watch the tides when you hike to Cape Beale, as at high tide the lagoon is often filled and prevents access on foot to the lighthouse. There's also a pretty epic land-bridge just past the lighthouse, definitely worth a side-trip.

Also, tomorrow is Canada Day and the 139th birthday of Cape Beale lighthouse! Happy Canada Day!

Building Fires and Creating Community

Homer Simpson buoy!

One of the great things about hiking the West Coast Trail is that unlike in much of the western Canadian backcountry, summertime campfires are not only permitted, but very feasible. In fact, during the wet week that I hiked the West Coast Trail in May, a Parks Canada staff member actually encouraged us to 'build a fire every night' to keep warm and cut the risk of hypothermia. 

Enjoying a fire at Cribs campground on the WCT

Fires are also generally easy to build on the WCT, at least in the spring, as drift wood is often abundant. Large logs are great for fireside seats, and many pre-established fire pits are ready for use. Even if wet, all it takes is a bit of firestarter (lightweight cubes or sticks are highly recommended) and you will have a roaring blaze. An axe is completely unnecessary as drift wood conveniently comes in a variety of sizes, and an axe contributes to the heaviness of a pack. I recently met one hiker who brought a small hatchet with a lightweight handle on the trail, and by the end of trip regretted bringing it, as it proved unnecessary and added substantial weight.

Also, if the weather is friendly hikers can cook on the fire. I met a couple of hikers who didn't even bother to bring a stove, as one experienced hiker (he had hiked the trail 11 times) was so adept at building a cooking fire that he deemed it unnecessary. I would NEVER suggest not bringing adequate stove and fuel, and counting on the ability to build a fire is never a safe bet while backpacking. However, if you're running low on fuel, it can be a nice way to cook dinner, as long as your cookpot is fire-friendly (watch out for plastic handles) and most importantly, you know how to build a proper cooking fire ( hot coals, small hot flames....a big roaring bonfire that you can't get close to is useless). Proper fire etiquette on the  WCT also includes building fires in pre-established fire rings or below the high tide line.

But when camping people seem to build fires for more than warmth or food, rather they build fires for the sheer enjoyment for having a fire. Personally, I love the scent of campfire smoke on my clothes as it calls forth all sorts of lovely childhood memories of family camping trips and warm, happy times. I am highly sceptical of any claims to so-called deep cultural memories of 'primitive' times spent around the campfire running through some 'primal memory'. Such BS is Lamarckian and generally ridiculous. However, I know that for myself campfires call up feelings of being safe, warm, happy and surrounded by people I care about, due to my personal history of growing up camping and my family's proclivity for backyard weenie roasts. I also know that for some people that smokey smell can recall negative memories. An Australian ex-boyfriend didn't like the smell of campfire smoke because it brought back traumatic memories of his childhood home being nearly engulfed by bushfire. However, for me, and I think for many others, campfires are active symbols of pleasure in being outdoors. 

Rum and crystal light is also adds to the campfire experience

Nearly everyone I've encountered on the WCT so far has built a fire on at least one night of their trip. This may change as the summer wears on and driftwood becomes more scarce at popular campsites like Michigan and Tsusiaht. But there's also an interesting social pattern to fire-building on the WCT that I've observed. On the first night or two or three of the trip, separate groups will build separate fires. So for example, on their first night at Thrasher Cove one set of hikers had begun the trail divided into 5 different groups of 2, and had built 5 separate fires. They were all northbound, following the same route, which is often the case on the WCT. By their third night, they were all sharing a fire. By the fourth night they were making jokes about who built the best fire, and  arranging seating for all the groups around the fire. By the last night, the fire was the social centre of the campground, with everyone cooking, eating, laughing, swapping stories, and taking photos of each other around one single fire. Sharing fires as the WCT trail experience progresses seems to be a common experience for many hikers I've spoken with in May and June. Many hikers also seemed to associate their 'best nights' on the trail that involved sitting around the fire with former strangers, now fellow hikers, and bonding over the common experience of the difficult WCT trek. Fires seem conducive to creating temporary communities of shared 'wilderness' experience, bringing people together who know little of one another, and may have little in common, besides their common experience of being 'out there' in the backcountry. I've shared fires with a surprising variety of folks, many of whom I have a hard time imagining another realistic circumstance where we'd meet. 

Fire-side buoy carving also seems common

 However, I wonder if this 'fire-bonding' phenomena is a product of the relatively low numbers at the WCT campgrounds in the spring. It's easy to share a fire with 6-8 people, but could the same sort of thing occur when the trail season is at it's peak and there are 20, 30 or even 50 people at one campground? I guess I'll see. I remember when I hiked the trail in August of 2011 my hiking buddy and I had a fire every night. However, I don't recall sharing it. Is there a point on the trail where too many people actually prevent socializing? Probably. It's funny, one thing that I've noticed is that despite the fact that many people backpack to 'get away', many also mention the sense of community they feel on the trail. People nearly always greet each other on the trail, gear is borrowed or shared with equanimity, and invitations to share a fire are common. Yet I know this sort of camaraderie does not occur on the more crowded day-hiking trails I've been on in the Canadian Rockies. I wonder if during the high season on the WCT people will retreat into their own little backcountry bubbles and the temporary fireside communities will become more rare. I guess I'll see.

The communal fire pit at Michigan also seems to amass a collection of beachcombing finds, a 'trail trash' museum of sorts, such as this broken surfboard tip

Buoy Carving and Hiker Artifacts

The West Coast Trail is littered with human artifacts. There are a plethora of carvings that mark significant events, places and relationships scattered along the trail. However, these carvings are no ancient petroglyphs, but rather are artifacts of hikers who feel the need to signify their successful traverse of the difficult west coast landscape with a material symbol.

Over the years the beaches of the west coast trail have been repositories for various flotsam and jetsam brought in by the tides. The most common thing washed up seems to be floats and buoys. Colourful, carvable, lightweight, and with a rope attached, buoys are used as trail markers to point the way to beach entrances and exits and mark campgrounds, much the way rock cairns are used on alpine trails. In the often grey weather of the west coast, these colourful markers provide much needed wayfinders. It's interesting to think about how the garbage of marine traffic have been transformed into beacons showing the way for terrestrial travellers.

However, the buoys have a symbolic purpose beyond that of wayfinding. The carving and placing of a buoy
has become a common ritual practise to commemorate hiker's successful rite of passage along the West Coast Trail.

 Michigan campground, named for the wreck of the Michigan whose boiler still rests on the rock shelf the campground overlooks, is hung with more buoys than any other site along the West Coast Trail. It is the northernmost campground, so it is often either the first campground for southbound hikers and the last for northbound hikers. Therefore many hikers commemorator either their last or their first night on the trail by carving and hanging a buoy at Michigan. Below is the buoy carved by two Tasmanian hikers I had the pleasure of camping with in mid-May. Note their attempt to carve at outline of the island of Tasmania on the upper right.

Why do people feel the need to mark the landscape with a sign that they were there? Especially when backpacking etiquette commands that a camper leaves no trace i.e. "leave only footprints, take only pictures" as the saying goes. During the Parks Canada orientation hikers are warned that they may not take any plant or animal materials, as well as 'artifacts'. However, it is emphasised that 'artifact' is a term applied only to materials of a First Nations origin. 'Man-made' objects are fair game (there is some irony here). So the transformation of buoys from maritime garbage into hiker 'I was here' signs is okay-ed by the park, and provide the beaches of the West Coast Trail with an additional aesthetic that may be man-made, but is colourful nonetheless.