We woke up early on Chin Beach. Justin had brought his cell phone, and turned it on to set the alarm for the next morning. I think he had it on airplane mode to conserve battery. No sense the phone looking for a signal that just wasn’t there. So we were able to get up at 7am, much to my relief.

Today we were hiking about 9km of “difficult” section, then back into “moderate”. We hoped to make it to Payzant Creek, a campsite 20km away. By far our most ambitious distance since the easy last section of the WCT, two years ago. Hopefully “difficult” was a lot easier than “most difficult” of yesterday. If we failed to hit our mark, there were two campsites halfway or less that we could land at instead. But that would leave quite a distance to go on the last day, and push back our return to the truck. And come dangerously close to the wedding prep day. I figured the bride would not thank me for disappearing into the woods right up to the day she was to be married. Give me some credit though, as I did remember to call her before we dropped out of cell service, and advise her of our plans. So, trek 2okm on a trail we were rather unfamiliar with, or risk the wrath of the bride.

We set off early.

The first 8km were indeed rough, with roots and mud being the rule. There were a few more uprooted and toppled trees, cutting off the old path, with new path being forged into the hillside above the slide.

We reached a suspension bridge in the middle of this rugged section, spanning a particularly steep gully, with a rushing creek at the bottom. I peered down the sheer sides of the banks, and was glad there was a bridge way out here. On the other side, we started climbing steeply up a treed slope. It seemed to go on and on, upwards, switching back and forth. Justin led the way, a veritable spring in his step it seemed to me. I trudged up, leaning on my poles, and panting. Justin was carrying the food bags, which we had eaten some food out of, thereby making them lighter. That must be it, I told myself.

At the top of this steep hill, we were treated to a smooth flat path, broad enough for both of us to walk side by side. It appeared to be an old service road, now dug across to prevent vehicles from making their way in, and incorporated into the trail. I was just as happy to stride along for a while, not tripping over roots. Soon enough it ended however, and we skirted the crest of a deteriorating slope, back towards the ocean. The path down was quite rough, with toppled sections of path were steps likely used to be. This left some serious drops, usually from about waist high. We scrambled down these as possible, loath to leap and jar our knees. Not to mention the sheer risk of landing poorly and damaging an ankle. There were other hikers on the path, but not that many, so sending word for help would be a serious challenge, in case of trouble.

The path finally rejoined the ocean, or at least we could hear it again through the typical screen of bushes and small coastal trees. For an oceanside hike, there were few views of the actual ocean. those we did have were predictably similar. Ocean, bull kelp, and black rocks. Much less scenic than the WCT, that was for sure. An easier hike overall, however.

The path forked, and we were gratified to see a sign pointing down to Sombrio Point. We were nearing the end of the difficult section! As it was near lunch, we followed the steep path down to Sombrio Point. I was not keen to hike back up to the main path, but it was the only named point on the tiny paper map we had printed out. There had to be a reason for that, surely.

It turns out that Sombrio Point is a breathtaking black rock jutting out into the sea, with a paler rock land bridge leading up to it. We dropped the packs and spent a few minutes scrambling over the rocks, with the waves crashing around us. There was a thick bed of huge mussels in one crevice, but I just couldn’t figure out a way down to them. And they were constantly being washed by waves. Not safe then, but they looked tasty!

Back at the backpacks, I broke out my lunch/ snack bag. A Clif Builder bar for lunch, my usual. A handful of honey roasted peanuts and some pork jerky. Washed down with some water I had pumped and purified from a stream. I am sure that stream water is the best tasting water, and with my little ceramic purifier, I was reasonably reassured I wouldn’t be laid low by water bugs. A small concern here according to some, but the forest also added particulate to the water, turning it brown. Apparently harmless, but somewhat unappetizing. So the purifier helped on that front as well.

Lunch done, I pulled off my hiker and tended to a sore spot on my pinky toe. All the downhill had not been kind to my knees, nor this toe in particular. And the uphill was causing a rub on my right heel. So. First the moleskin went on, to preserve the skin before it blistered. Then ductape over that. In the case of my heel, I taped from base of heel up to nearly my calf. The old tape had slipped down last time, so I was taking no chances this time. Foot suitably armoured, I laced my muddy shoe back on, and zipped my gaiter back up. Gaiters had been very useful this trip, keeping the mud from falling into our footwear. Mine were also snug enough to prevent my shoelaces from untying. Something about my Keen hikers. The laces didn’t like to stay tied up, not on this pair, nor the pair before. Ah well, otherwise a good shoe.

Back on the trail, we were supposed to be on the “moderate” section. However, the next km proved to be just as difficult as the previous 7km, with fallen trees and hillside slides causing soft footing, mud bogs, and detours. We trudged onwards.

Sombio Beach campsite was next, a lovely spot in the protected sweep of a bay. We hiked along the beach, and a gentle rain started to fall. It had been spitting a bit earlier, but nothing too serious. We had the rain covers over our backpacks, and Justin had a jaunty little rain hat that I was both appalled by and envious of. We were suitably geared for the rain, and it wasn’t even raining too hard. So we trudged on.

Somewhere at the north end of Sombrio Beach, we had missed the turnoff to get back to the trail. There was a significant stream to cross, and the rocks were slippery and green. There was a suspension bridge upstream. Hmm, that’s where the trail was then. We just missed the beach exit trail.

The rocks on the side of the creek turned out to also be slippery. And the banks were closing in, getting steep. Justin spied a promising looking trail, and we ascended the bank, pushing along the narrow trail. Soon, narrow became overgrown, which declined steadily to game trail, then to a thin spot in the bushes. We persevered of course, because to do otherwise was to turn around. And the trail had to be just ahead. Ok, a little more… The thought did flash through my mind that this was how people got lost. But really, the stream was just over there… somewhere. I couldn’t hear it anymore. Finally we crashed out of the bushes, onto a wide and well worn path. I looked at Justin. Pine needles were caught in his beard hair. I laughed, and unclipped my bag. I could feel the needles clumped up at the back of my neck. We both stripped off our shirts, and brushed the forest debris off each others sweaty skin, off our packs. Might as well have a snakc while the packs are down. And pee in the bushes.

Suitably refreshed, we got back on the trail. the suspension bridge was smaller than the last one, only a meter or so above the creek. It was well worn by many feet, there being road access to a parking lot near to the lovely and sandy Sombrio Beach. Well, some parts of the beach were sandy. Or the rocks were really small. Something like that.

The next few km of trail was indeed moderate. There were many gentle slopes, though still quite a few steep ones as well. It was much muddier here, and the rain continued to fall off and on. The log bridges crossed lovely little streams, but were very slippery. In my haste to make the 20km goal of the day, I strode out onto one bridge, barely remembering to check my stride in time to hit the wood. my fear was unfounded however, the bridge was not too slippery. The root on the other side of the bridge which I stepped down onto was actually quite slippery. My foot flew out from under me, and I toppled over, towards the bank and not the stream fortunately. I tried to catch myself with my pole, as had worked so many times before. This time I was moving too fast, and simply wretched my shoulder as I fell. I crashed down on my right hip, legs tangled in the undergrowth and folded under me, arm jerked up high.

Justin hurried over, gracefully avoiding the slippery patch. The concern in his voice as he asked how he could help! I lay there, and said I just wanted to have a little cry. That startled a chuckle out of him, and brought a smile to my own face. I unclipped my bag, and heaved myself to my feet. Mud was liberally smeared all over my legs, both from the fall, and from trudging through mudholes all day. I gave myself a once over, and declared myself sound enough to continue. We started walking again, slowly so that I could test out my limbs. All seemed to be in order, and we soon resumed a good pace. A little slower than before.

The day dragged on. We passed piles of bear crap on the trail, so took to talking when we were among the berry bushes. Both of us were tired, but managed to find a little energy to discuss what foods we were craving. Justin wanted nice cheese bread. I wanted chevapi, the little sausage buns we had in Croatia.

Our feet dragged on. I barely cared to try and avoid the puddles anymore. We passed both our back up campsites, and a parking lot that was a long ways from the main road. I was tempted to make our exit there anyways, but we plugged on. Only 3km to Payzant Creek! We can do it!

The last two km passed slowly. our pace had certainly slowed down. The light was noticeably dimmer. There were some boardwalks in the trees, and strangely, some interpretive signs giving info about the temperate rain forest we now walked through. I encouraged Justin as much as I could. His feet were soaked through, and rubbing. I couldn’t feel my feet, other than pummeled lumps I kept putting in front of each other. Stumbling grew much more frequent.

Finally, we made it to Payzant. We crossed a sturdy bridge and found the welcome little sign with map that we had come to associate with campsites and trailheads. The campsite was on the side of a hill, about 1km from the ocean. Hmm, that hadn’t been very well displayed on the little map we had. Oh well, time to unload and dry our socks. Oh. No fires allowed. And its raining again. In a rain forest.

It was a wet and frustrating night that night. I nearly broke down and cried with a feeling of being overwhelmed with silly little things, but Justin was there for me, helping and hugging. We finally settled down after a good meal, in the silly little depressions they provide at Payzant. I had reason to praise the sealed floor of my new tent that night. Despite our careful trenching in the hard packed earth, water pooled in the tent area, growing to about 3cm deep under us. The floor held however, and we were only mildly damp in the morning.

I did wake in the middle of the night with the feeling I might need to pee. I firmly quashed that idea, listening to the rain patter down. I couldn’t imagine the annoyance of getting my bum out to pee, then getting dry enough to shimmy back in bed. I was truly envious of Justin, who simply aimed from the door, and let fly.

Finally, the day to begin the trail. Now that we didn’t have the bikes, we simply drove the truck and trailer to the Juan de Fuca Marine Trailhead parking lot. There is a place to grab an envelope and tear it into three sections. Section 3 goes on your dash, to prove you registered, so you can park at the trailhead. Section 2 goes with you in your backpack, to prove you registered, so you can camp at the provided campsites. Section 1 goes in the vault/post thingie at the start of the trail, with $10 per person per night in it, cash only of course. So parking wasn’t an issue, though we took up a lot of room with the trailer. I felt vaguely guilty about that, so left a note on the dash next to our receipt, apologising.

With that, we set off. Around the crack of 11. Oh well, if we weren’t getting an early start, we did get a lot of needed sleep, and at least we were on the trail finally. Packed and ready, and I was pretty sure I had everything I needed. And if not, it probably wasn’t that important anyways.

From the Juan de Fuca trailhead parking lot (shared with China Beach day use area parking lot) we headed off towards Mystic beach. The day was overcast but warm enough, and the first section of the hike was easy, a well worn trail through tall trees, with clear ground below, owing to the dense and soaring canopy far over our heads. We made our way over a suspension bridge, jumping and swaying the bridge under each other’s feet. Two kilometers later, and one steep staircase cut out of a fallen tree, we ended up on Mystic Beach.

The fog had clung to the flanks of the island, and aptly named Mystic beach faded away into the mist. A waterfall splashed down in the distance, a rope swing appeared as someone swung on it, and campers sprawled out, a late breakfast before them, a late start on their last day of the trail, so close to the end. And before it all, the ocean. The gentle waves found in the Juan de Fuca strait lapped at the sandy shore, the reassuring susurrus that would be the acoustic backdrop to this adventure.

We smiled, taking it in, resting under the weight of our bags. As it was still early, we pushed on for the next campsite, Bear Beach. It was only another 6 km down the trail, at marker 8.7km. We were still in the “moderate” section of the trail. Should be no problem!

We trudged down the beach, stride easy, and settling into the rhythm of the trail. I was taking it all in, letting my mind cast over what we would need for dinner that night, and how I would unpack my bag. A gentle thought process, comfortable in the cadence of my stride. The kilometers before us, the few behind us. I was ready for this adventure, and looking forward to the next few days by the ocean. I had prepared for this, had packed carefully, and felt confident in my gear. I was getting pretty good at this whole hiking thing, I mused to myself. I was ready for anything!

It was around kilometer 4 that I realized I had forgotten to pack toilet paper.