Nootka Trail

The Nootka Trail runs the length of the west coast of Nootka Island. (about 35 km or 26 miles.) Nootka Island is situated off the west coast of Vancouver Island at about 50 degrees latitude.  To reach it, you drive to Campbell River and then take highway 28 to the town of Gold River. Most hikers, and we were no exception, fly into the north end of the island on one of Nootka Air's float planes.   If you plan to end your hike on a Wednesday or a Saturday, you can arrange to return to the  main island by freighter. The Uchuck III makes the 2 1/2 hour trip from Yuquot at the south end of the trail to Gold River on those days.  Otherwise transportation is available from Maxi's Water Taxi.

(To go eliminate my personal stuff and go directly to the details of the hike click here.)

How My Better Judgement Was Overcome

It was a normal working day in mid June.  I had not been into the Nanaimo office for some weeks so our secretary, Kathryn and I were catching up.  She mentioned that Eldon and his wife Jan were planning to do the Nootka trail.  I said, "Gee that sounds really interesting!"

From then on I was simply swept away by the momentum of that thoughtless comment.  "I TOLD him you'd be interested!" Kathryn said.  Within a half an hour  Eldon was on the phone.  They were looking for companions for the hike.   I hemmed and hawed.  I mean I thought it would be really interesting.  It was something I would like to do some day, some time but not in three weeks!  The most strenuous exercise I had undertaken over the spring months was a little knitting and the turning of pages.  I would need time to get ready for a hike like this.   My reservations fell on deaf ears.  Eldon assured me it was 75% beach hiking.....a piece of cake.  Books suggested 8 days but he and Jan had to be  back for a wedding so they were going to do it in 5.  Did I tell you that this guy is my boss?  Duress is what it was.

I said I would ask my hiking buddy, Sandra.  I was still hoping for a reprieve.  Well just faintly.

No such luck.  She was on for the adventure.  (She is a novice and is ALWAYS keen.) By the time I called back to confirm my reluctant involvement, Eldon had recruited Dennis, Beth and their son Steven. Our group was complete.

Preparation

I have done enough hiking to make me ever mindful of my limitations, which at the age of 58 are considerable.   With only weeks to go, I decided I had to do something to get my body into shape to manage a five day back packing trip.  My  frequent walks with my aged and overweight dog and my half hour a day on the elliptical trainer were not going to be enough.  So I opted for a first hike of the season and did Alone Mountain with the Comox Valley Mountaineering Club.  This is a story on its own.  I came back a cripple and spent the next week with my feet up recovering.

Several of the  hikers I had met in the club had advised that bike riding used some of the same muscles as hiking and was a good way to get in shape.  I had not ridden a bike in years. It took me a week to get this together.  I borrowed my daughter's helmet.  I asked Dan if he could fix up one of the relics in the garage.  He did so, and that Saturday evening I headed out for a half hour bike ride.  (Nothing too extreme this time.)  Things were going fine till I was on my way home. I was barreling down the highway and went to make the turn onto our little road.   I had started the turn and reached for the hand brakes only to find that the way they were set, I could not reach them.  Unable to stop, I did the next best thing and aimed for the softest looking stretch of bush on the road side..  I hit it.  Glasses pushed askew, face scratched, a little generalized pain but not too bad.  I remounted my bike and proceeded home at a rate more appropriate for a geriatric cyclist.

As I bathed that night I noted two huge and matching bruises, one  on each thigh...I guess where I had hit the handle bars.  In the middle of the night I rolled over and was wakened by an excruciating pain.  It seemed I had cracked my tail bone.  It was just as well that I was going on a hike the coming week.  I couldn't sit comfortably for the next month anyway.

Finally, The Hike

We boarded the float plane at about noon on July 12th for the half hour trip to Louie Bay.  The little plane followed the Muchalat Inlet out to Nootka Sound and then headed north west following the west shore of Nootka Island and giving us an aerial preview of the trail.

An aerial view of Calvin Falls
Close up later

I had been nervous about the prospect of deplaning in water and having to then try to get into my back pack without dunking it or drowning myself.  It was not a problem.  We had all worn shorts and sandals so we would be ready to jump off into the ocean but our pilot brought us so close to shore that if we walked along on the float we could almost make a clean jump onto the rocky little beach.  We placed ourselves strategically and passed the packs along from the plane to the float and from the float to the shore.  When all our gear was unpacked, we waved good-bye to our plane and pilot and sat down to put on our packs and boots in preparation for our short hike to Third Beach.

Louis Bay is actually on the east side of the island but there is just a narrow stretch of forest to be traversed to get you to the west coast.  45 minute hike the book said.  Well it had been a windy winter.  Was that the explanation?  It was a reasonably level, well marked trail.  Should have been a piece of cake.  It was not long, however, before I began to realize the significance of the warning that we had received.  This is not park land.  No one is responsible for maintaining this trail.  I had thought, okay, I can live without suspension bridges and board walk.  I had not, as I will next time I hike one of our trails, given much thought or thanks for the people who come in each year to clear away the past season's  wind falls.  This trail had a wind fall about every 20 feet.  This is old growth forest.  A tree across the trail can be 10 or 20 feet high.  The challenge is finding a way over, under or around it.  It is likely to be a rotten old tree with miserable little stumps protruding from all the places where the branches used to be.  That means that as you scramble over it, you are likely to whack some part of your anatomy on one of these little hazards.  Crawling under logs...(the path is guaranteed to  be a mud hole at this point) is not much more fun since the snags always allow just about 3 feet of clearance, enough to get you and your pack through if you are not afraid to go down on all fours and almost scrape your nose in the mud to make it under. ) Some members of our group abandoned their packs.  Others did double duty, dropping their own packs at intervals to go back and retrieve the pack left by a weaker hiker.

An hour and a half after we had been dropped off, we arrived at third beach.

This is a beautiful white sand beach.  We arrived about 2:00  on a sunny afternoon.  In no time at all we had set up our tents and as the dinner hour approached, some serious cooking got underway.  Brad, who had done the trail before us,  had given Eldon his notes and advice.  He said that since the hike the first day was so short, you could bring real food as long as you ate it that night.  So some people had steak and spinach salad with baked potatoes.  Some had a stir fry with fresh meat and veggies. And some had Maritime Pasta Supreme.  (the maritime part of this packaged product relates to the fact that it is intended to be eaten sea side. It has nothing at all to do with the ingredients.)  I will leave you to guess who it was who ate the dull pasta but will just note that they were the two who did not later in the hike, burn quantities of food because their packs were too heavy.

That evening as the tide was receding, I strolled down the beach thinking it would be wonderful if a fair part of the hike was on sand like this.  After the weight of the receding waters it was smooth and firm, like walking on a spring loaded dance floor.   It was a nice thought.

Actually as soon as we left this little bay, the next morning, the beach was like this.

Beaches come in many forms.

Sandstone Plates Covered in Slippery Kelp

Sometimes our "beach walking" took the form of
rock hopping for mile after mile.
(See the sea stacks in the background.
I know I should have gone closer to get the
picture but I had come so far on these rocks
that I only had a limited number of hops left in me.)

Even while cursing the treachery of the terrain I could not help but stop
to admire these rock groups we would find from time to time that looked like
they had been bronzed.  All of these boulders were smooth and well weathered but why did some of them have this metallic sheen?

Oh yes, more about beach walking.

"What is this memorable photo?" you ask.  This is
pea gravel. The stuff you pay an arm and leg for
when you are landscaping.  You would also, I assure
you, pay an arm and a leg to avoid the misery of
walking miles in this stuff.

We also had coarse sand.  See how deep the foot prints are.
That is because you sink in almost to your knees with
each step. 

And then of course there was a bit of driftwood.

The trail is primarily a beach walk but at various points you have to cut
into the forest to get around a headland.  Invariably as you enter and leave  the beach area, you have to do the mad scramble over a pile up of old logs.

About the only kind of surface we did not encounter in our beach walking was that lovely compacted sand that I had seen at Third Beach that first evening.

I am becoming old and curmudgeonly.  I had not intended to spend so much time grousing about the trail and in fact, I would rate it only as moderate.  I was thankful there were no great elevation gains.  The headland I mentioned required short climbs of maybe 5-20 meters. (Yes sometimes it did involve some fancy foot work and dependence on a rope.)  Even I did not find myself short of breath.  The trail is potentially treacherous and I think anyone would need to take it slowly.  A loss of balance or a slip on the logs or rocks can quickly incapacitate a hiker.  There were two evacuations during the 5 days we were on the trail.

So that is the cautionary part of the tale.  Now on to why it was well worth it.

First Full Day

We left Third Beach on Saturday morning and headed for Calvin Creek.  In places there were choices of walking in the woods or along a mountain scape of uplifted shale plates.  Because I like a total experience I did both.  First I chose the forest route, got side tracked and after an hour's hiking ended back at another trail head entering the same beach I had just left.  Realizing that I had made an error, I looked around and saw Dennis on the rocks some distance ahead of me.  I decided that I would take the rocky shore route instead of going back into the woods.  I picked my path through the slanted slabs of shale for maybe 1/2km only to find my way cut off by a surge channel.  Dennis had been on the other side of that channel.  A buoy hung from a tree nearby....I headed back into the woods.

I caught up with the rest of my group before long but as we hiked towards along Skuna Bay I found myself eyeing the next rocky point anxiously.  Just around it, I understood that we would find Calvin Creek, our destination for the day.  I could see it in my mind's eye.  I would round the point and there would be this lovely bay with the waterfall with its welcoming spray, dead centre, only a short walk away.  Nice thought.  The "point" went on forever.  When I got to the other side there was no falls in sight.  It was further than I bargained for but still a lovely sight when we found it.

My tent mate, Sandra is the shadowy figure
collapsed in the corner here in front of Calvin Falls.

This had been a long day for us....7 or 8 hours.  When we arrived at Calvin Falls the wind was blowing so hard that he had a difficult time setting up camp.  My daughter lost all the pegs from my tent many years ago so I always have to use rocks inside to anchor it.  Sandra knew this and I had trained her to go out in search of 4 nice big rocks as I was setting up the tent each night.  This evening things were more urgent.  Gust after gust of wind sent her offerings rolling from their assigned corners into the middle of the tent.  I sat within like a despotic sovereign yelling...."Rocks! Rocks! Bring more rocks!"  Another gust would hit me.  The whole tent would lean inwards over me....I feared for the frail bamboo framework or whatever it is.  Sandra brought rocks...miserably inadequate ones.  Where are the big ones when you need them? Another gust hit.......I was crushed against the side of the tent.  Sandra appeared. "Hey look at this pretty shell I found!"  I lost it.  "Forget the Martha Stewart thing!" I bellowed. " Rocks I want,  Big ones."

What happened next?  Did the wind calm down or did we just get enough rocks?
I don't know but we did make a joint decision to forget dinner and just eat trail mix, pita and cheese.  After resolving our domestic squabbles we went out to join Eldon, Jan, Dennis, Beth and Steven around the fire Steve had built for us. The evening that had begun so frantically ended in calm.

Day 2

Calvin falls had been almost at the end of the beach we were on.  From our camp sight we could see the headland ahead.   The trail went up a small bluff.  In fairness it was a very small bluff and there was a rope to help along the way.  I was the first one on my way that morning.  I arrived at the marker and thought "no problem". Grabbed the rope and started up.  Just as everyone caught up to me, I reached this mid point where I could see no likely footholds.  On the rock it had been fine but now I was faced with slick mud and many skid marks where people had tried to get a toe hold and failed. The rest of our group stood below while I gave traffic reports.  Things looked better further up....it was just an uncertain 10 feet.  Reluctantly given the audience I had at this point,  I took my usual route, abandoned my feet and with the help of the rope did the bad patch on hands and knees.

I do not know how the others did it because from the top I could not see.  I think that not everyone was able to manage the climb while carrying a loaded pack. I guessed that because I am sure I saw Steven make at least three trips up that slope with a different pack each time.   He also retrieved my hiking poles that I had tossed down when I realized I needed all four of my extremities to make this move.

After a climb over this headland, we found ourselves on the beach again.  We had noticed on our first day that whenever we were hiking on sand, the tracks of wolves were evident.  On day two, Sandra and I were walking along the beach when we saw a wolf approaching us traveling in a line that would bring it about 20 feet to our right.  As it came closer, it veered towards us to have a better look.  Then off it went in its original line of travel.  Given our pace, we cannot say that we are women who RUN with wolves, but at least we can claim to have walked with them.

Beano Creek which was our destination this day was interesting...it came out and formed a small lake almost cut off from the ocean by a narrow spit.

Here is the view as I first saw it.

Here is the same "lake" viewed from our camp spot.

There is some private property abutting the beach at this location. It happened that Dennis and Beth knew the couple who owned this land. They let us use their  outhouse.  We all considered this a luxury at this point.

Day 3

Our hiking on the third day was dominated by the view we had of Maquinna  Point just ahead of us.  Always it was there before us as a landmark to be conquered.  During this portion of our trip we found that our primary guide book* was in error. It said that  about  200 meters S.E. of Callicum Creek we would reach a rock wall where a 6.5 feet tide blocks the beach.  We were on a negative tide when we hiked this portion of the beach.   We did an hour or more before we found ourselves facing a surge channel.  We had to turn back and go into the forest again.  It was not the kind of beach walk you really wanted to do twice.

Ah yes!  Yet another kind of "beach".
Look hard and you will see people in this picture.  Gives you
a sense of perspective.

This was the largest of  the many 
caves we found along the beach.

This is the root ball of one of the windfalls we encountered that day.

Day 4

The rain was coming down in a steady drizzle as we woke up and broke camp that morning.  We expected to spend most of our day in the forest since we were only a short distance from the Maquinna Point headlands.  By the time we got up the bank and into the woods, the rain had subsided.

The trail skirted the trail cliff edge in many places so there were some great ocean views.

This meadow like environment and pond had developed in a sheltered area amidst the crags of the headland.

By about noon, we started to become concerned about our time since we had read that we had to get to the salt water lagoon that stood between us and our night's camp site on a low tide.   We figured we would be okay if we got there before 2:00.  We had spent most of the morning hiking in the woods but three times we had made our way down into pocket bays only to scramble over a mess of driftwood, walk a few hundred yards on the beach, scramble over more drift wood and then climb some sort of embankment back up into the woods.   In the notes that Brad had given us he had included an e-mail from someone who had followed his instructions in hiking the trail the year before.  They accused him of not giving them the straight goods on all the FPBs. (They were referring to these pocket bays but adding their own adjective.)   I had read an article about the trail where they mentioned that there were 12 pocket bays as you rounded the Maquinna Point headlands.   With only three behind us after 3 or 4 hours of hiking, I was worried and did not see how we could make it to the lagoon in time to cross and reach a fresh water source for our camp spot for the night.   We had just descended into our fourth FPB however, when Steve who as always had gone on ahead, reported that we could get around the next ridge in the headland.  We strolled into the next FPB on hard compacted sand.  And so it went for the remainder of the hike around the headlands.  The tide was low enough that we were able to avoid climbing back up into the forest.  We reached our salt water lagoon in good time and walked across it with no problems.

From there,  it was only a short hike  to the small creek where we planned to spend the night.  The church at Friendly Cove (Yuquot) was clearly visible and we could have hiked on and camped on the lawns there had we been so inclined.  Since our boat was not leaving till two the next afternoon, we chose to save that last bit of a hike till the next day.

Day 5

It rained in earnest that night and was still pouring when we woke up in the morning. Sandra and I brought our little camp stove into the tent and sat in there drinking tea till about 11:00 by which time the rain had subsided.  We made the twenty minute walk down to Yuquot and found the Uchuck III already at the dock.  I snuck into the church and caught the end of a presentation that a woman from this community was giving about the history of the settlement.  By then, the ship was loading so we scurried down into the dining area where it was warm and dry.  Many of us ordered the Uchuck's famous chili.  Most of the passengers on the boat just do the trip as a day excursion so we were treated like minor celebrities and had lots of chance to brag about our exploits and adventures. The 2 1/2 hour trip passed quickly.

Here is our intrepid group minus Steven, who
was taking the picture.

When not acting as our photographer, Steven hauled packs up steep slopes when the pack owners could not manage them.   He saved us many wasted steps by hiking on ahead to check out routes to see if they were passable.  Every evening he lit the communal fire.  He single handedly got his geriatric group safely to the end of the trail.  In this regard, he was more successful than the paid guide we met on the boat back who had had two of his charges air lifted out because of injury.  We were all most grateful particularly because throughout, Steven refrained from giggling or smirking at our many awkward moments.   Jan was so grateful that she repeatedly offered him a choice of any of her five marriageable daughters.  Sandra just wanted to be photographed with her own sherpa.

For further information about the trail:

The Nootka Trail, A Backpackers' Guide, by Pal Horvath.

© 2002 vanisle.geo@oocities.com
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