Wednesday 16 April 2014

Camping season is upon us!

http://www.buzzfeed.com/peggy/camping-hacks-you-must-try-this-summer?bffbdiy

Friday 28 February 2014

Day-Hiking the Wild Pacific Trail: Frontcountry vs Backcountry

As the West Coast Trail is closed for the season I thought BC Family Day long weekend in February would be an ideal time for me to visit the frontcountry unit of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve. I had a meeting with the Parks Canada research coordinator to attend, and my fiance and I decided to make a weekend of it.

Ucluelet Harbout

Ironically considering its title, the 'Wild' Pacific Trail is likely one of the most 'civilized' hikes on the west coast. It currently consists of two section, both within the municipality of Ucluelet, and apparently more sections may be added in the future. It is not a Parks Canada maintained trail (perhaps this is why it is so well-maintained!), as Ucluelet is adjacent to but not within Pacific Rim National Park Reserve.


It was a cold and blustery February day, so we only hiked part of it as my partner is a fair-weather hiker. We walked the 2.6km loop by Amphitrite Lighthouse. It was so odd to see an automatic lighthouse, which I know is becoming the norm, when I was used to the lighthouses of the west coast trail, which are homes as well as coastguard beacons. It's hard to imagine a time when the lighthouse at Amphritrite was as remote as Pachena or Caramanah Light, but around the turn of the century I suppose it was. Near the lighthouse there was an interpretive sign which showed an old photo of the original Amphritrite Light. Constructed of wood, it apparently blew down not long after its initial construction in a winter storm! 
Amphitrite Light

As we walked it began to snow, complementing the frozen tide pools. The setting was dramatic, and nearby were hotels and luxurious vacation homes. Their views were certainly more spectacular than those of most Bamfield or Port Renfrew homes, which were constructed more for shelter than scenic potential. This simple walk reminded me of why some people expected the scenery of the West Coast Trail without the grunt work that went along with it. If people were basing their expectations of the West Coast Trail on the Wild Coast Trail, where the scenery was wild but the trail was tame, then I could see how some first-time WCT hikers easily got in over the heads.


The difference between the frontcountry and the backcountry trails are more extreme in the Pacific Rim region than most parks. In most parks, from my experience, backcountry overnight hikes begin as extensions of day hikes. Thus a day-hike is not necessarily easy, and the transition from a well-maintained frontcountry trail to a rougher backcountry one is gradual. However, Pacific Rim was designed differently from some of the older parks in the Rockies with which I'm more familiar. It was conceived of from the get-go as three different units. The West Coast Trail Unit and the Broken Group Islands Unit were set aside as terrestrial and marine backcountry areas, respectively. Long Beach Unit, making up the coastal area between the towns of Ucluelet and Tofino was designed as and continues to be a frontcountry unit. What this means is that there is a separation from those who travel to the west coast to partake in backcountry activities and frontcountry activities. While this may be good for park management, whose job it often is to manage tourists more than any other wildlife, what does it mean for the experience of visitors? 

K'wistas Visitor Centre on Wickannish Beach


When I visited the K'wistas Visitor Centre at Wickannish Beach, the main information centre for both the Long Beach Unit and Pacific Rim Park Reserve as a whole, I was struck with the irony of this backcountry/frontcountry separation. The newly redone information centre was filled with excellent displays about the terrain, history, and First Nations Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) of the Pacific Rim National Park. Displays were informative, were often triligual (written in Nuu-chah-nuulth as well as English and French), and acknowledged the complex relationship First Nations people had and continue to have with the ecosystems within their territory. From the displays at K'wistas, one would think that Pacific Rim was a flagship example of the co-management of the a park between traditional owners and government.

There was plenty of information about the ecology and history and traditional ownership of the West Coast Trail at the information centre at Long Beach. However, because of the geographic separation of these units, it is unlikely that anyone hiking the West Coast Trail will visit Long Beach on the same visit to Pacific Rim where they hike the WCT. Yet I would argue, it is often West Coast Trail hikers, who spend a full week traversing and interacting with the places of Pacific Rim, who have the keenest interest in the type of knowledge displayed at K'wistas. WCT hikers, who have a physical, phenomenological experience of the places of Pacific Rim, have less access to information about the places they travel across than the day visitors at Long Beach.

Part of this is because Parks Canada information on the trail is focused on getting hikers through the WCT safely, perhaps at the expense of more esoteric knowledge of the terrain. However, it is ironic that those who most fully invest in learning about a landscape by physically traversing have less access to information (at least, officially sanctioned knowledge) about the ecology, history, and traditional owners of the park.

Which brings me back to the Wild Pacific Trail in Ucluelet. Scenic, informative, but wild? Beware of names. 'Wild'-ness is a marketable designation, and does not necessarily connote the lack of human presence or environmental manipulation that popular culture ideally associates with it.
Surfers!

Tofino condos....something you'd never see in Bamfield

Sunday 26 January 2014

Hiking the West Coast Trail in Winter

I was recently asked if it was possible to hike the West Coast Trail in the winter. The short answer is no.

It is illegal to stay overnight on the West Coast Trail in the off-season (Oct 1-April 30) and Parks Canada will fine anyone caught doing so. I have heard accounts from several people being fined. Here is one: http://www.surfingvancouverisland.com/surf/st1203trailtrial.htm

On a practical note, it would be possible to hike in from Bamfield to Nitinat Narrows, but next to impossible to cross the Narrows. I've heard about people doing hare-brained things like trying to swim across or float across on a log, but I would really really really advise against that. I've seen the Narrows whipped into a frenzy, the currents are very strong. The ferry operators can navigate them due to familiarity, but they're very hazardous for even skilled sailors, kayakers etc. Furthermore, the winter storms on the west coast of Vancouver Island can be gnarly, and as there are no easy exits from the trail once you're in the middle of it, getting stuck in a dangerous situation if a storm blows in is a real possibility.

However, if anyone has hiked the West Coast Trail in the winter successfully, I'd be interested in hearing about your experiences. You can contact me anonymously through email at wctstudy@gmail.com. I will never advise someone to hike it in winter, as it is illegal and quite dangerous, however I am curious as to why and how someone would do so for my research project.

If you are looking for a coastal hike during the off-season I`d hike the Juan de Fuca Trail instead....it's open, it's along a more sheltered part of the coast, and it's easy to exit quickly if a storm blows in. I myself hiked it in mid-April, and I know folks who've had a lovely time hiking it during a good stretch of weather in February. Hiking in to Keeha Beach and camping there is another option, and you are almost guarenteed to have the beach to yourself. I spent a lovely Thanksgiving weekend on Keeha and a black bear was the only other creature on the beach that we saw besides ourselves.

Thanksgiving camp on Keeha

Dressing for October weather....... a mixed bag


Monday 20 January 2014

Self-Evacuation or How to Get Off the West Coast Trail When You're In the Middle of It



The West Coast Trail, unlike other trail like the Juan De Fuca, really has only two trailheads, one at either end. This means that the 75 kilometre length of the trail is inaccessible except on foot for the public. Parks Canada and First Nations staff do patrol the trail and evacuate injured hikers by helicopter or by boat.

Important to note is that unless you have special permission (i.e. First Nations access rights) all areas on along the West Coast Trail Unit of Pacific Rim National Park are accessible only on foot. Private boats, including kayaks (I have known of kayakers fined for accessing the West Coast Trail, so kayakers be warned) are not allowed to land on any of its beaches. Although hikers will often see helicopters flying up and down the length of the trail, and may even see one land and drop off Parks Canada trail maintenance staff, private helicopter access is also prohibited on the West Coast Trail Unit. There's a story in trail mythology that some rich folks once asked if they could take a helicopter to Tsusiaht Falls for a daytrip. Parks Canada denied them permission, to the gratitude of many hikers who do not want to share their experience with wealthy day-trippers.

Unfortunately the most common way people leave the trail without completing its entire length is by emergency evacuation due to injury or illness. From eighty to a hundred people are evacuated off the West Coast Trail every year. That does not mean that there are high numbers of serious injuries on the trail, as when a hiker is evacuated often one member or even all of their hiking party is also evacuated. Furthermore, most evacuations are for injuries such as sprained ankles and knees, which, while not serious, do prevent a hiker from completing the trail. However, serious injuries have happened on the trail, and there has been, to my knowledge, at least one recorded death.

Parks Canada Safety Officers trying to negotiate the waves and rocks after a September storm to evacuate hikers. Photo taken at Swing Beach near Carmanah Light.


However, there is one other option whereby hikers may leave the trail that does not involve harming oneself. Hikers may exit the trail at Nitinat Narrows by arranging with the ferry operator to be taken to Nitinat village at the eastern end of Nitinat lake. Although older guidebooks may say otherwise, you cannot enter the trail at Nitinat Narrows, only exit it.

Overview of Nitinat Narrows, photo credit ditidaht.org


On my last trip of the season I decided to take this option. The next morning after the storm it was sunny, but the sea was rough. I spoke with the lighthouse keeper at Carmanah, who told me another storm, perhaps even larger than the previous one, was expected that evening. I waited until mid-morning to make my decision, hanging out with the lighthouse keeper and witnessing an evacuation of one of the hiker groups who had sheltered at Monique's the night before. The sea was still so rough the Parks Canada staff had difficult time making the beach, and watching them struggle decided it for me. If I continued hiking south from Monique's I would be on the section of  the trail which was more sheltered, but generally more difficult. And if the storm took out one of the cable cars I'd be trapped (this has happened in the past) until Parks could get me out. I'd also end up at  the southern trailhead of Port Renfrew, the opposite end of the trail from where I was based. On the other hand, if I headed north and the storm flooded Darling River or Michigan Creek, these could become impassable (as had happened in the past). I was fairly shaken by the power of the storm, so I decided to be smart, be safe and exit at Nitinat Narrows. Besides I had hiked the trail before, but I'd never been to Nitinat, so this was a good excuse to head that way. When I reached the ferry I'd found out that I was not the only one who decided to head out. The Trail Guardians had warned another solo hiker about another storm hitting the coast, and he had decided to cut and run too.

The ferry operators charged us $50 a head for the hour long ride up the lake. Be warned, at Nitinat you are off the trail, but certainly not out of the woods. The only public transport out of Nitinat is by the West Coast Trail Bus, which stops 7km away from the village at Nitinat Junction. As  the ferry operator only takes people off the trail once he or she has finished for the day, you will have missed the shuttle on your arrival. There is a campground and a motel at Nitinat, but not much more than that. It's a beautiful place, but is, like Bamfield, a remote place accessible by logging road. As we were hiking at the end of the season, the WCT bus was only running every second day, and we would have had to stay two nights at Nitinat, either in the pouring rain at the campground or at the motel for over $100 a night. Luckily, we spoke with some friendly locals who were able to drive us to Bamfield. For a price of course, as it is over three hour return trip! So exiting at Nitinat can be quite pricey if you're on a budget. At the end of a long season of hiking, I was simply happy to eating a burger at the pub in Bamfield when the storm hit  that evening. 

Another common reason people exit the trail at Nitinat Narrows is because they have failed to allow enough time to hike the trail. The trail takes six to seven days, and even if you think you can do it three or four days, I would warn that I encountered many hikers, often experienced and fit ones, who aimed to complete it quickly and either were unable to or felt so hurried/exhausted by the pace they wished they had given themselves more time. If you don't have enough time to hike the West Coast Trail, hike the Juan de Fuca. If you find you finish the WCT early, well good for you! Go to beach and relax, or do one of the possible day/overnight hikes at either the north or south end in addition to your trip.

I would not recommend leaving at Nitinat Narrows if you are heading south to north, and arrive at the Narrows fed up and exhausted. You've already completed the hardest part of the trail, and north of the narrows it gets gradually easier and is, in my opinion, probably the most beautiful section of the trail. However, if you are hiking from north to south, and the 'easy' section of the trail has left you overwrought, then get out while you can......

Thursday 9 January 2014

Storm season and a new beginning



So I'm going to try and get this blog going again. I let it slide for quite a while due to some personal issues and my general state of business, however I'd like to get it going again. Although I'm not sure anyone ever reads it, at least it will keep me writing and thinking about the West Coast Trail.
Self-portrait taken on the top of the Hole-in-the-Wall on my last sunny day on the trail

 The West Coast Trail is closed from October 1-April 30 every year. As I was accustomed to alpine hiking before I moved to the coast I considered this season to be fairly long as I am used to trails being closed in the winter, if not officially, at least nominally due to snow (which in alpine areas can mean avalanche danger). So I didn't question a winter closure for the trail. Then a friend asked whether they could hike the West Coast Trail in February and why it was closed because snow and snow-related difficulties are not present during the typical West Coast winter. Here's the answer:

Storm season

What do I mean by storm season? For those familiar with West Coast beaches, they will know that large driftwood logs, often several feet in diameter, and usually at the 'back' of the beach abutting the forest, are a defining characteristic of the West Coast beach. A common question of those new to this environment is “how did those get there?” In the summer, and even on most winter days, they seem far from the tideline and it's a stretch of the imagination to picture a surf strong enough to lift those giants far up the beach. Before this year, I KNEW there were winter storms....theoretically....that were powerful enough to create that 'storm-line' of driftwood giants barricading the beaches...but I'd never seen anything like it. 

My tent barricade in by piles of driftwood at Tscowis

 Until my last trip on the trail this past September.

September 2013 was a lovely month for hiking. At the beginning of the month I hiked the entire trail from Port Renfrew to Bamfield taking a leisurely ten days to do it. Then, on September 17, I began what was to be final trip of the season, heading into to Carmanah from the Bamfield end, spending a few days at Carmanah, then heading out via the same northern trailhead. The weather was gorgeous and sunny, even hot at times (a swim at Tsusiaht falls was a must), and all seemed to be going well. However, on the third day of the trip the wind picked up and was blowing hard, in spite of the sunshine. I crossed paths with the Ditidaht Trail Guardians near Nitinat Narrows and they warned me that a storm was coming. Having encountered what I thought was 'stormy' weather before on the trail, I thought, oh well, I can handle rain, and continued on.

I had convinced the others who I was hiking with to stay the night at Dare Beach, instead of going all the way to Cribs, as it is a beautiful spot and slightly shortens the long trek south from Tsusiaht. We set up camp about ten feet past the previous nights high tide line, had a lovely fire, and watched the a gorgeous sunset followed by a full moon rising. It was near-perfect.

Gorgeous sun and a calm ocean in late September, the calm before the storm

 At 4 am I woke up to a strange clicking/buzzing that sounded like an odd sort of rain. However, the sound originated from something hitting against the bottom section of my fly, not coming down from above. It was tiny little sand flies, jumping about. Usually these creatures stay near the tide line, so I wondered why they were suddenly descending on my tent. As I lay there wondering, I heard a shout from a fellow camper. “Hey, our tent is wet!”. I peaked out, and they had camped about a metre closer to the ocean then I had, and the ocean had crept up, far past previous high tide lines, until it was lapping at their tent. A panicked move, and then head-scratching ensued. We had camped far above the previous nights high tide at 10.5 ft, and tonight was supposed to be 11 ft, so why was the tide so high? Looking out at the ocean, even in the dark, you could see the reason. The waves were at least twice the size of what I'd ever seen before on this section of beach. The wind had also picked up, and rain was starting to pour down. In my sleepy state, I didn't fully realize the size or power of the storm that was descending on us. I decided to just huddle up in my sleeping bag, and wait and hope that it would get better later in the morning.

It didn't get better, and by 10 am the rising tide was again a worry. The others had already left, as they were on a stricter schedule than I and had to finish the trail by a certain date. So when I emerged from my tent I was alone, wet, and, it felt, in a completely different environment then I had ever been in, even though I had thought I was familiar with this section of the trail. It had rained so much in the past few hours that creeks which were barely dripping by the day before were raging torrents, and the tide threatened to sweep over logs and dunes that the ocean probably hadn't touched since the hiking season began. Intellectually I knew these types of storms could happen, but the difference in knowing what it could be like and being in an actual west coast storm meant that I stumbled about in general disbelief.

Wetter than I've ever been in my life, my goal was to reach Chez Monique's. Unfortunately, as I had made a late start from camp, I had to battle a high tide, which, strengthened by the storm surge, was constantly lapping at my ankles. What I found myself doing to get to Monique's was definitely dangerous and decidedly stupid. Descending from the ladder from the lighthouse, I found that the tide has already swamped the beach, and the waves were bashing up against the piles of driftwood logs under the headland. I could see Monique's, but the only way to get there was to crawl on hands and feet along precarious piles of driftwood logs, which were being battered by the waves so the oceanside logs rolled and crashed into each other. But I could smell bacon. So I recklessly, yet slowly, crawled over the logs,  moving during breaks in the waves, and slipping and sliding on my hands and knees.

When I got there, my fellow campers shouted a greeting, and Monique bellowed some sort of combination of a welcome and admonishment for my stupidity. She and her helpful WOOFers cooked up  a big pot of soup for myself and the other bedraggled hikers to sip on while we dried out wet things by her wood stove. The waves came so high they began to threaten her shelter, and a fast little creek of rainwater began to flow in the dip between her kitchen and the ocean. As the storm grew worse, Monique and Peter encouraged everyone who made it to their home that day to take shelter there for the night. She shrugged off our repeated thanks for her hospitality by saying “It's a storm! What would the ancestors say if I didn't help people during a storm like this!”
 
A fellow hiker holding up his 'rain gear' for the storm in the only place on the trail it was any good....inside Monique's shelter. This is the only photo I have from the storm, since my cheap camera can't handle the wet.


So Klecko, Klecko Monique  and Peter, for sheltering me from a REAL west coast storm. Now I know how the logs got there.