Almost Turning 30 on The West Coast Trail: Part 2

I realized that compared to my last post, this journal should encompass the beauty of the West Coast Trail. Anyone who has hiked or about to hike the WCT are often asked “WHY DID YOU DO IT?”. I can’t answer for everyone but I can that for myself going meant escaping and placing myself in a different environment to reflect and think…and breathe.

I can’t emphasize enough or have the time to wax poetry on how amazing nature was. The hum of the ocean breeze, the waves that softly folded and crashed, the uninvited sand that clung to every millimeter of my gear, and the irony of seeing a cougar warning sign located 50 meters from a major campsite. The trail brings peace to everyone. It does. Why? It’s a major break from the usual routine of waking up, checking emails, checking phones, staring at the computer screen, hitting the gym, making errands, worrying about investments, worrying about why certain people won’t call you back, worrying worrying worrying.

But on the WCT worries take on a different form. The slippery log bridges that challenged my muddy boots. The 10 hour trekking days. The creek that we crossed and soaked our boots on. My feet looking like something that washed up on shore. The constant threat of the man-eating wildlife, who in reality, found my camping body odor -which had a note of WTF in it- unappetizing.

Of course there always these beauties who called to me “CLIMB ME ANGELO! CLIMB ME!”

But I realized that worries are a natural part of life. The WCT has set me back on track in being more proactive about the things that had to be done without the stalling processes of deliberation, doubt, and distraction. Taking down camp meant an early head start on the trail. Packing evenly and tightly meant a more solid hike. Listening to my body meant knowing when to push myself and when to take breaks. I learned that on the trail, when you come to terms with yourself and settle your debates much quicker, you leave so much room to experience the wonder of the present.

Anyways, more on the trail…

We began to detest beach hiking because of the heat so we planned to head into the forest. Hustling across the sand, we became trapped in a cove. We had no choice but to rest. But lucky for us, the tide brought in three whales, bobbing up and down, feeding on krill. I never understood the thrill of whale watching, up until this point. The wonder and mystery of the size of these creatures under the sheet of the ocean was something, I happily munched on my protein bars while watching their backs take geyser-like breaths.

The whales were this close

On the trail, everything out of the ordinary REALLY looks unordinary. When we hiked the beach, we spotted these migrants hundreds of meters away.

And what was the verdict on the world’s best burger? Well it wasn’t the greatest thing I’ve had. Sorry, they were ok and perhaps another week of hiking could’ve made them the most amazing thing in the world. But oddly enough it was the cans of orange and coke pop that REALLY made my day. How bizarre

There were a lot of uncaptured moments: Our showdown with a mama bear and two cubs on the beach, the magic of finding dried mangoes in the bottom of my food pack and handing it to my friends on our last night of camping, the beauty of inventing a cocktail I called “The West Coast Christmas”, getting ripped off at the $15 “Luxury” campsite, the site of sour smelling hikers being grossed out at the cute forest slugs, the crunch of the baby clams on the bottom of my boots, the joy of power hiking the beach and clearing 4km in an hour, the one time I fell off a log and fell on my pack helplessly flailing like a turtle…

The last night of camp when I peeked out at the clear night sky and like all cliche romantics, professed my love to the stars.

But there was the experience I had to be sure capture, the moment of almost finishing the West Coast trail. The sight of the donkey engine, the coast before we hit the forest that led us into the trailhead, the last kilometer mark, and my heroic triumphant pose.