Juan de Fuca Marine Trail, Part II
The JdF Trail is considered "difficult" from Sombrio Point to Chin Beach. I was somewhat worried about this, given my lack of skill on the "moderate-intermediate" section from Parkinson to Sombrio. I ventured on the trail with some trepidation. For the first km or two, the mudbath continued. Then, I hit the reason for the difficult rating: some seemingly endless switchbacks up a bluff.
Sure, there was still some mud - but it was getting less and less as the trees were getting older and older. I started to have a lot of fun again. I climbed and climbed, and then I hit an old logging road which felt like strolling in a park (with a pack on!). The trail was level for a good long while, and then it started to descend. It was better footing than I'd encountered anywhere else - nice cushiony bits of forest duff, less and less mud.
By the time I came to the famous Loss Creek suspension bridge (I looked down. It creeped me out, but I couldn't resist looking down below my feet on all the suspension bridges) I was 100% sure that I'd made the right decision to stay on the trail. Despite the rain, I began to see why this is such a great trail. Take out the mud factor, and it's a stellar trip. I stayed on my (thoroughly soggy) feet, I thought the hills were fun more than anything.
Soon after Loss Creek, I saw the 23 km marker post. Since I'd started at 47 km, this meant that I was now more than halfway done. I didn't want to feel too confident about this, though, since I was still in the "difficult" section, and approaching the "very difficult" section after Chin Beach - and I was suspicious that there would be some nasty surprise to account for the rating any minute now.
There wasn't. I got spit out on Chin Beach before I knew it. I decided to take the low tide route, since it was low tide to the minute (there are tide tables posted in almost every place the trail meets the beach). Even at low tide, the cutoff on the west side of Chin Beach was very wet. I rock hopped through it. I found out later that this cutoff is only considered passable at extreme low tides less than 1 metre - but I made it through no problem. My feet were already soaked, so it didn't matter much to me.
Predictably, it was still raining on Chin Beach. The camping area is in the middle of the beach, among the driftwood. The tent spots looked pretty cool, with driftwood fences around them, but again the tarp hanging possibilities were limited. I decided to visit the emergency shelter on the east side of the beach to get out of the rain for a few minutes and decide what to do next. It was only 2:30 p.m., but the 10 or so km from Chin Beach to Bear Beach, I'd been warned, would take a whole day.
The emergency shelter was cool. I hung up some of my gear. I sat for a minute. I decided to forget about tenting that night, and sleep in the shelter. So I putzed around all afternoon, exploring the beach a bit more, drinking much hot chocolate, reading my book on the beach during the two hour lull in the rain that afternoon. I figured, if another group showed up and they wanted the shelter, I'd go camp. Only one group (of 10 hikers) showed, they had no interest in the shelter.
After dinner, I was curled into my still dry sleeping bag in the dry shelter out of my wet boots reading my book when another hiker showed. He had come through all the way from China Beach, he was soaked, he had never set up his new tent, and I thought we should share the shelter. He agreed. Once he discovered that we could understand each other's versions of German (he is from northern Tyrolia, my family is from the very south of Germany - the two areas are very close to one another), we switched languages. I wasn't particularly good company, though, since I was crashed out by 9:30. I was nervous about the "most difficult" trail bit the next day. I wanted an early start.
I was on the trail by 7:30 a.m. the next morning. The sun was shining, the birds were going nuts, I could hear the surf in the background. I didn't mind the hills - this was by far my favourite part of the hike. I was in old growth, I was in awe. I stopped for a break - and the only way I can describe the way I felt is... serene.
I don't want to say that the difficulty rating is bunk - if all of the trail had been in as good shape as this section, this would have been the toughest section. The hills were relentless - no sooner had you crested a ridge were you sent down another long series of knee-jarring switchbacks. All but about 750 m of relatively level hiking were like this. But *so* beautiful.
When I read the guidbook that night, it warned of mud holes on this stretch. I did encounter several of these. One of them had me up to my knees, when I stumbled on a root and started going down. My pole saved me from a faceplant - but in the process, I torqued the poor hiking pole so much that it was bent. I managed to straighten it out later that night, but sadly, it will never telescope again.
It didn't take all day. By noon, I was on Bear Beach, my planned destination. It was sunny. It was warm, though windy. It was stunning. I decided to head for the camping area furthest east (and furthest away from the unmarked trail from the highway - and thus most removed from the people who had obviously come in that way, judging by their lack of big packs)
I set up just west of Rosemond Creek, east of the high tide cutoff. The tent pads were again hacked out of the salal, but this time they were dry, there was a soft layer of duff, and the pads were separated by rotting old logs. It was camping at its finest.
It was early when I set up camp. I've discoved that, on solo adventures, I need to plan long travelling days because I don't know what to do with myself in camp. Not today. I wanted time to move slowly. I dried all my clothing - including my boots - and gave my feet a chance to dry out to by spending the afternoon barefoot. I read my book. I explored. I drank a lot of coffee.
My recurring thought that day was how glad I was that I hadn't quit. I was surprised by how comfortable I was all alone throughout this trip, but this afternoon was the best of that - there was nothing I would have changed. I watched the tide come in, I stayed up until it got dark, I slept like a log. I couldn't believe my luck with the weather, and I forgot about the rain and grumpiness.
My last day was a relatively easy 9 km jaunt through the forest, crossing Mystic Beach. Mystic Beach is beautiful, but here I lost the serene feeling - I was now surrounded by people who had obviously only hiked the 2 km from the access. There were tons of daytrippers. Everybody was so clean, and dressed in such non-gearhead clothing. I was grubby. I started noticing that I didn't smell particularly nice. I noticed the dried mud everywhere.
The trail from Mystic Beach to the China Beach trailhead was in terrible shape - it wasn't that it was so wet, but this area has been subject to that no-no of hiking - people had widened the trail (at times to 15 feet wide) by not stepping in the mud but around it, which was possible in the open canopy of the older forest. This explained the clean tennis shoes I saw on Mystic Beach. I met a lot of daytrippers. I felt like the hike was over already.
I got to the trailhead by 12:30, the highway was a five minute walk away, and the bus wasn't scheduled to come through until 5:15 - so I took myself down to China Beach and spent some more time barefoot in the sand with my book. I snoozed. I watched all the clean daytrippers walk 200 m from where the trail hit the beach and turn around, having snapped their pictures of Juan de Fuca Provincial Park.
With the exception of the 24 hours of misery near the beginning, I loved this trip. I can now see why this is such a well-loved trail - if I hadn't hit the mud, I wouldn't have had a negative thought. Even the mud, in hindsight, was manageable. I liked this adventure enough that now, at some point, I want to do the West Coast Trail. But not alone, at least not at this stage. Going solo was fine, but my pack was heavy, and I like having cool people around.