![]() ![]() ![]() The wind carried a sickly smell in our general direction. Shivering against wind and rain, we forded the thigh-deep creek, climbed a steep, gravelly beach and saw - a kilometre away through the fog - a black bear standing on top of a dead whale. By the time we arrived at Beano Creek, about six hours later, the island's mood had darkened considerably. On Day Four, we resumed hiking under an overcast sky. It seemed a great place to spend two nights, so Day 3 was a sun-splashed beach break. After dinner, a pod of grey whales motored past. (The mammals were hunted nearly to extinction by the late 1920s, and were reintroduced to the northwest coast of Vancouver Island in the late 1960s.) When we stopped that afternoon at Calvin Creek - a long beach with a spectacular waterfall and swimming hole - the sand was littered with fresh wolf tracks. Later, my friend Judy realized a cherished dream when we spotted a pair of rare sea otters playing in the surf. The beaches aren't always easy to navigate, but they are infinitely better than the dense and slippery forest.ĭay 2 brought a black bear that dissolved into the forest when one of us rounded a corner. The Nootka Trail formula is simple: Hike during low tide and stay on the beaches unless driven into the forest by high water or rocky headlands. We balanced on driftwood logs and picked our way across acres of marble bowling balls. Under a hot sun, we negotiated beaches of every kind: sand, pea gravel and egg-sized rocks, beaches of crunchy mussel shells, and flat, seaweed-slick shale. We spent them in a blue-and-green, glistening meditation of untamed beaches and surf, punctuated by brief forays into the dark forest. On my lifetime list of "Perfect Days of Hiking," Days 2, 3 and 4 on the Nootka Trail rank very near the top. (A few days later, we would look back nostalgically on the perfection of this campsite.) We set up our tents and delighted in each discovery - even the fresh bear scat near the water's edge. Through headsets, we were treated to an information-packed commentary from pilot Grant Howatt, complete with a report on the activities of Luna, the sociable orphaned killer whale that lived in the sound for five years until his death this past March.Īfter a smooth landing in the shallow waters of Louie Lagoon, we waded to shore amid purple and orange starfish, heaved on our packs, and within moments got a taste of what was to come: near-bushwhacking on a rough trail through towering old-growth trees, over and under enormous fallen logs, and through black muck.įorty-five minutes later, we stepped out of the cool, dim forest onto the dazzling white curve of Third Beach. On Day 1, our party of six met at the tiny marina in Gold River, and loaded our backpacks into a single-engine Otter operated by Air Nootka for the 40-minute flight over the mountains and inlets of Nootka Sound, out to the open Pacific, and up the rocky coast of Nootka Island to the start of our trek. It was a cute line, but the message was clear: Out here, you're pretty much on your own. If disaster strikes on the Nootka, according to the bush pilot who flew us to the trailhead, you can always "stand on the beach and do a line dance" to get the attention of a passing floatplane. In case of injury on the WCT, evacuation is straightforward. There are no bridges, ladders or boardwalks in its rain forest - just slippery logs, ropes and bogs - and definitely no patrols by Parks Canada. ![]() The unmaintained Nootka is less than half the length of the WCT, but takes almost the same time to navigate (six or seven days is recommended). It's wilder, more remote and less crowded than its more famous counterpart, the West Coast Trail. The 35-kilometre trail snakes down the spectacular west coast of Nootka Island, just west of Vancouver Island, separated by a slim finger of water. ![]()
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