Running BC’s West Joy, Suffering and a New FKT Story by Jade Belzberg
S
ome years ago, my husband and I backpacked the West Coast Trail, a remote, strenuous 75 km (50-mile) route located on British Columbia’s Vancouver Island. The biggest problem in attempting the trail isn’t the condition of the trail itself, which can range from dry to Ohmy-God-I’msinking-andmy-shoesare-gone muddy. It’s not the high tides that can entirely stop any forward progress or the 70 ladders, 130 bridges, and four cable cars that must be negotiated along the way. It’s not even the seven-kilometer long deep-sand beach section or the rotting planks, mud pits, and massive root systems that require crouching, ducking, scrambling, and balancing. No, the most challenging part of tackling the West Coast Trail is just getting there in the first place. From Bellingham, WA, it’s an 20
The heartbeat of Cascadia
hour’s drive across the border to the Tsawwassen ferry terminal, followed by a two-hour ferry trip to Vancouver Island and another three-hour drive to the southern or northern trailheads, depending on where you begin. This isolation is also what gives the trail its
eerie, wild feel. Initially built in 1907 as an emergency rescue route for shipwrecked sailors, the route traces the margin of the Graveyard of the Pacific, where more than two dozen ships have been wrecked on the rocky shores. Hundreds of years before this, various First Nations communities that call this area home, including the Huu-ayaht, the Ditidaht, and the Pacheedaht
First Nations, used the trail as a trading path. The weather fluctuates from mild and dry to wet and cold, and then there are the nine months of the year when it’s so stormy and dangerous that the trail is closed. Low-lying fog hovers over the beaches, and your imagination tricks you into thinking you might just see a wolf or bear emerge from the forest and walk out in front of you. If you’re lucky, you just might. The area is home to the densest population of cougars in North America, and black bears freA rare stretch of smooth sand. Photo by Nickademus de la Rosa quent the trail and beach alike. Wolves, although less common, live here too. We’ve yet to see any of these large mammals, but we’ve lucked out with the weather both times we traversed the trail. The first time we backpacked the route in three and a half days and found out that schlepping 30-40 pounds of gear on our backs and living off of dried lentil soups isn’t nearly as much fun as feeling like you can fly through >>> Go to AdventuresNW.com
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