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Day 3, August 1st, Sunday: Camper Bay to Walbran Creek, 9km in ? hours, low tide 10:05am (0.6m)
Map of Day3 (click to enlarge) Our planned 8:30 departure became 8:49. Most rose at 6 am to begin take down camp and help with bacon and eggs ala Rick for breakfast. Bill took up his position and wisely relegated himself to the back of the group. Most of the group wore their Tevas to make the double creek crossing and glared at Warren for being the last to leave camp. However, Warren and Bill had put their trust in water proofing and boulder hopped across both streams staying quite dry.
Warren leaving Camper Bay, the view from our campsite Once across the stream, Warren and Bill then sat down and waited 15 minutes for everyone else to change into their hiking boots. Eventually, everyone got their boots on and we headed out along the sandstone shelf. Warren and Bill waited for Rick and then caught up with the rest of the group 100 yards later, when just around the corner, the first real surge channel of the day was encountered. The Olympians have once again passed us (while everyone was putting on their boots) and were already halfway across the channel. The path across the surge channel was short but covered in seaweed and slippery rocks. The climbing rope was brought out to give a helping hand to those who needed it. It was used to help stop people slipping sideways down into the water along the first part of the ledge, ledge which was sloped and very slippery.
Although the slope looks minimal, this is much tougher than it looks! Once past that section, everyone crept across a few more slippery boulders and then climbed out the other side. Once again, the testosterone-charged hikers ferried packs across for a minimal fee.
A waterfall, oozing down the cliff. The sandstone shelf was cratered with tidal pools, all full of sea life. The sea anemones were numerous, green and suck. They provided great entertainment for those willing to stick their fingers where they shouldn’t. The crabs put up a great show of foolish bravery and resistance in an attempt to chase us off the shelf. The amazing geology along the shelf is amplified by the accelerated erosion of the softer rocks, while the harder ones resist. The cliffs echo the same geology.
Rick adds scale to the geology.
Warren ferrying packs (must have done all the work at this surge channel)...
And then back to help hikers over the lip. The last hurdle at the end of the shelf was the choice of a steep rock or a small cliff down to the mouth of Sandstone creek. The cliff was impassable without a rope. The rock was slippery and steep and the gap to it large. Bill went down the rock with his pack, while all other passed their packs to Warren, who dangled off the edge of the cliff, passing packs down to Craig and Rick. Warren then did a very clumsy rappel down the cliff. The Olympians (real rock climbers) found our process entertaining and took numerous photos. At the mouth of Sandstone creek was a major logjam. The ranger had told us that it was much worse than usual; it didn’t seem too bad to us.
Sandstone Creek: the normal logjam. However, the route back to the main trail was up the creek bed. This looked to be different at least. After a short scramble across the logs, a steep slope had to be climbed. A short rope provided a fun way up. Elaine, extremely pumped, used a jolly jumper technique with a sideways variation. Joan bushwhacked her way up the creek; there didn’t seem to be any real trail.
Wading up Sandstone Creek We then discovered the real new logjam that the ranger had warned us about. Many trees, all relatively new with thick branches and leaves and needles blocked our path. We crisscrossed the creek bed climbing over and under logs, through trees and around pools. Elaine fell on her face in two inches of water. Twice. This was a problem for us. We didn’t have the vocabulary to deal with it. The term “turtle” had been given to us during the orientation by the rangers, but a full face down fall had not been anticipated. We searched and pondered for a while and finally came up with the term “belly-flop”. Anyways, Elaine did two.
The new logjam. The total distance back to the main trail was only about 500 m but, just like everything else we did on this trip, took more time than anticipated. The final step was a steep climb up a rock face to the bridge and inland trail. Ropes are provided (and needed) for climbing up these steep faces. Great fun and a pleasant change. There were 2 ways up and out of the stream gorge. One was a long haul up a steep muddy trail with lots of roots. The other was up a sheer, wet, rock face. Most chose the steep muddy trail. Sandy, Warren and Elaine chose the sheer rock face. Sandy went first up the sheer rock face, then turned and advised Elaine to lose the pack. It was steep enough at the end so that it became pure arm strength. Elaine struggled solo up the rope, leaving her pack to Warren. Much to Warren’s disgust, she also took the rope up with her, looped around her leg. A nearby rusty steel cable enabled Warren to climb (with Elaine’s pack) up to the end of the rope where Elaine had left it, some 20 feet up the stone face. The main trail was a relief to get to, and everyone skipped along it, even when the path became what had previously been thought of as steep.
Roots on the trail. At least until we hit the ladders. To get out of Sandstone creek we were faced with unending ladders. Dana’s knee began to bother her and Chris raised the stakes in the Hiker Extraordinary competition by taking some of the weight from Dana’s pack and also doing double duty on the ladders, first taking his pack up and then making a return trip for Dana’s.
Ladders down to Cullite The trail between Sandstone and Cullite creeks was short and pleasant, consisting of boardwalks and the odd mud bath. The climb down to the cable car and up back up the other was yet another series of unending ladders (the highest series of ladders anywhere along the whole trail). The cable car ride was fun.
Teamwork on the cable cars. Since the one at Camper Creek had been broken, this was our first chance to play on one. Pictures were taken by all. We finally had a chance to use our “ladder gloves” as the pulling ropes were quite rough on the hands. We had brought “ladder gloves” because we had expected the ladders to be slippery and splintery. It turned out that the ladders were neither; the wood was pleasantly soft to the touch, and splinters were almost impossible to get (naturally, some people did manage to get a splinter or two, but only from driftwood or from some of the brand new construction, done with pressure treated lumber instead of the fragrant cedar that seemed to be everywhere here). We climbed up and out and moved on towards Logan creek where we had planned to stop for lunch. The trail again consisted of swampy areas with lots of boardwalk and mud pools.
The bog was quitedry and reminded everyone of Saskatchewan.
Now the log bridges didn't come with hand-ropes!
Hanging onto roots to avoid sliding down a muddy slope. Logan has a wonderful suspension bridge, which bounced and oscillated nicely. Some of us liked the movement and some of us were not so enthusiastic. Dana was in the latter category. Joan and Bill had crossed first, and then watched the negotiations between Dana and the bouncy pair of Chris and Rick. Dana explained that the crossing should take place without excessive jumping on the bridge. Chris and Rick were having none of that, but they did wait for Dana to cross first and start up the first ladder. They then proceeded to bounce themselves across the bridge. However they had neglected to notice that the bottom of first ladder (which Dana was still on) was not connected to the canyon wall but rather hung out in mid-air where it was connected to the bridge some distance from the canyon wall. This meant that movement of the bridge caused the ladder to move as well. Needless to say, Dana’s screams of “joy” did not go unnoticed by those who had already crossed. Her shrieks, threats and cursing echoed up and down the canyon, easily heard by everyone, even those more than a hundred feet above.
Joan poses on the suspension bridge at Logan. Chris did take time for a photo op on the bridge: an L-sit with a 55 pound pack on. Predicatably, his triceps seized after 2 seconds. At the top of Logan we paused for a short lunch. The Olympians, as was their custom, passed us as we ate lunch. Some of us felt slightly inadequate that 2 women (one of whom was 55 years old) were outdoing us. A fellow hiker took a group photo of us. Luckily we asked him to take two. The first one turned out very blurry. The last part of the hike was through a bog resembling areas of northern Saskatchewan. Lots of boardwalk and mud again. We stopped for a break mid-bog and sat down all over the trail. We were still sitting in a disorganized group, cracking jokes and swapping snacks when three rangers appeared, as if from nowhere.
How the rangers found us... The rangers first comment was “Usually groups aren’t having this much fun in the middle of the bog”. They checked our passes and showed off their studded gumboots! It seems likely that ranger’s boots do most of the damage to the boardwalks and ladders. Two of the rangers were from the West Coast Section of Pacific Rim National Park, while the third was on an orientation and was to be eventually located in the Long Beach area. Rick, in true Rick fashion, quietly asked if they had any drugs to sell him. We knew he was joking but... Elaine was dazzled by the young ranger, Sebastien. Bill pointed out that he had no calves to speak of, but Elaine drooled copious amounts anyways. To Elaine’s joy, we continued to run into him throughout the rest of our trek. Jeff presented the group with great enjoyment as he pulled a full 1 1/2 turtle. Sheryl and Elaine rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”. When Jeff replied: “No, not at all,” Elaine managed to squeeze out: “Wait there, I’m getting my camera!” between fits of laughter and then proceeded to photograph the poor man lying in a heap prior to extending him a hand to get up. Jeff had thought it would be impossible for the two girls to get him up, and started bellowing “Get the rope!”. Somehow, the two girls got him up unaided. The rest of us listened to the whole thing from around the corner. We felt that wasn’t likely to be worth the effort of going back downhill just to see a turtle.
Wandering through the bog must have stimulated some obscure part of Rick’s brain or perhaps he was simply going through detox, having gone without a drink for the last hour (his 26 of tequila was running low). In this befuddled state, Rick decided that we should start placing white crosses along the route. These would mark specific locations along the trail where fatalities had occurred. A poetic and sadistic touch and oh-so Rick-like. His subsequent “Hat-on-the-Mud-Slough” idea was created with only 2 ounces of alcohol left. The idea was that a hat floating on the top of some deep mud would look like a hiker had sunk down below the surface. A 3-km walk to Walbran Creek ended the day. We set up the tents above the high tide line (lots of warnings about this!) at the top of the beach. A beautiful ocean view and a great cooking spot protected by a huge a driftwood wooden barrier. The creek hits the beach, turns 90 degrees and then parallels the ocean for a 200 yards, before turning again and heading out to sea. This creates a peninsula of beach bordered by the creek and the ocean. This is advertised as a nice warm spot to bathe. We found it beautiful, but quite cold. Walking on the largish pebbles was unexpected painful with barefeet.
A marvellous bathing spot, right in the strongest current, with several large, smooth and curvy sandstone shapes under the water was found, and every one washed thoroughly in the pleasantly freezing cold water. A water fight helped Warren and Chris get satisfactorily wet. Public nudity (full monty?) was rampant and initiated by Joan. We suspected that Joan was either inspired by Rick’s previous full moon or was just feeling randy. Joan flashed her boobs at Chris, who was left speechless. Eventually, he recovered enough to moon her back.
Joan flashes, Warren admires, Chris is flabbergasted! None of our campsites had that pleasant “tents-in-wilderness” look about them. We had the most lived in look of any of the campsites on the beach. This time, Bill and Warren erected an engineering wonder to hang clothes on. This prompted everyone else to bring a short bit of string and even more laundry. This greatly added to the ghetto look of our compound. No wonder it took us two hours to get ready in the morning.
Inspite of all the bathing excitement, Chris still managed to make dinner, consisting of chickpea curry and rice, with chocolate granola bars for dessert. Jeff the Cook added in a veggie rice for those who might need more sustenance. As was becoming her custom, Joan made rice pudding with the leftover rice. The serious amounts of drift wood made an excellent fire. Everyone went to sleep in good spirits, in spite of Rick’s questions about the meaning of life. Some tried Dana’s “Melatonin” pills, but we weren’t convinced they worked any better than Sandy’s “Lookin’ Good in the Morning” pills.
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Images with borders are thumbnails (click on them) Mail Me! warren.long@shaw.ca Warren's Hiking page is HERE Warren & Sandy's HomePage is HERE. |
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