Legends on the Trail

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The second day, from Campers to Walbrans, would be all about strength. This was a slight problem, seeing as I didn’t have any left. I popped two extra-strength Advils before putting my pack on. It weighed heavy, as if it contained every guilty sin on the planet. Wooden ladders, some as tall as 80ft, are the only way to get up and down the steep creeks. A slip would be disastrous, and it doesn’t take long before leg muscles burn as you hoist your weight from step to step. On the WCT, there is no safety channel, no roads that run anywhere near. Helicopters and boats patrol the coast looking for evacuees - this year there have already been over 50. The forest itself is eerily quiet, so different from the buzzing jungles of Borneo earlier this summer. Insects, birds and animals are scarce, and with the thick trees and fog, visibility was limited beyond the path. The only time I could really look around was during a break, as most times my eyes were fixed to the ground in front of me, navigating obstacles. We meet a lone hiker named Al. “Hiking the WCT alone is creepy, more for the bears in your mind,” he tells us. While bear, wolf and cougar attacks are rare (there is more chance of being struck by lightning, according to the orientation booklet), these three animals sit at the forefront of your imagination, waiting to pounce behind every tree. Especially at night, when the forest is so black and silent you can’t help but feel like a victim in a cheap horror movie. Baron, the irrepressible prankster, brought along a monster mask to spook us out. He needn’t had bothered.

The 1906 Valencia wreck claimed 133 lives, leading to the creation of a Life Saving Trail to help shipwreck survivors and rescuers find a route to safety. It fell into disrepair until 1973, when it was incorporated into the Pacific Rim National Park. Today, it is so popular that quotas limit the number of people who can enter it each day (60), and people come from all over the world just to hike it. There are many boardwalks, although most are cracked and slippery. On the WCT it can rain 6 inches in 12 hours, surge channels and tides pose constant risk, and it is only open between May and September outside of the really bad weather months. The West Coast Trail is not for inexperienced day hikers. Hikers have died on the West Coast Trail. There may be big cats in these woods, but the West Coast Trail is not for pussies.

My training for the WCT consisted of poutine, beer and smoked meat, so after conquering dozens of ladders and riding a steel self-propelled cable car across a creek, I stumbled into Walbrans like a zombie. The group had split into various groups, with Legend of Kyle sprinting ahead of everyone. The record for running the WCT, amazingly, is just 11 hours. Camp was set up alongside a crystal lake, and Legend of Kyle built a driftwood bench with back support around the fire. Chris, who did the Trail nearly ten years ago, built a tarp sauna. Hot rocks from the fire would be placed in the middle, with water steaming up the tarp enclosure until sweat and steam was all that remained. As I washed off in the freezing lake (using biodegradable soap), I rejoiced that the worst was over. I wasn’t injured (save for all the muscular pain), food loads were lightening, and Andrew was still with us, providing plenty inspiration. That’s when Legend of Kyle briefed us about the next day. With the long beach stretches and ladders, nothing about it sounded easy at all. “It’s not so bad,” explains L.O.K, “wait till you get to Chez Monique’s!”

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