Days of Lakes/Finale (Days 49-50)

It was the morning of day 49. I was sore. I was tired. I was off trail and didn’t yet have a plan to get back on track. I watched the inside of my tent begin to glow red with the sunrise. I knew I wasn’t walking anywhere that day.

Company

Later in the morning, my boyfriend’s parents and their friend drove up to the campsite to join me. I welcomed the company – they had messaged me the night before to let me know that they were coming, and I decided to stay at camp and spend some time with them, since they had driven more than an hour to come all the way out there.

We had a very leisurely day, walking across the old bridge across Upper Campbell Lake to find a nice lunch spot on the other side. We all stripped to our underwear and swam in the deep, clear, clean water. Everyone agreed that it was the Best Thing Ever.

I jumped off the long, tall bridge when we came back to cross it again. Oh, that water! And went swimming a few more times that day from camp. None of us could get enough of that water, on such a hot and cloudless day.

My boyfriend arrived later that afternoon, and it was burgers for dinner. And a delicious salad! I had seconds and thirds of that crispy crunchy freshness which my body was seriously craving, after having eaten 22 clif bars in 4 days.

Balancing Out a Plan

That evening, I could no longer avoid making a choice as to how my journey on the Vancouver Island Trail was to end. And I was torn.

I knew that my boyfriend and his family had come out to meet me with a plan to take me with them back home afterwards. I had told them that this campsite was my final destination – if everything went according to plan. But, due to my bail, I had left two mountains and three lakes unseen and unexperienced to the south of me. I still had not connected the southern part of my hike to the northern part with continuous footsteps. I felt that I was not completely finished with the trail yet. I needed one more go, one more orange flag, one more winding dirt road, to find some closure in the wake of the wrong turn that happened so suddenly the day before.

At the same time, I couldn’t leave the people who came so far to support me to go back home without me. I felt an obligation to accept their offering of a ride home. But if they were leaving the next day, how could I fit in my last taste of trail?

In the end, we worked out a plan that seemed to satisfy everyone. I was going to start in on the trail going north to south early in the morning, hit the three lakes that I had yet to see, and then retrace my steps back out to the highway where they would pick me up. After that, I’d be on the bus down to Victoria, where this all began from my front door a month and a half ago. And that would be the end of the trail for me.

What about the two mountains? Well, with my stash of food, I wouldn’t have been able to trek deep enough into the backcountry to meet them, and get all the way back out. As well, my experience on Adrian’s ridge made me think that I would want to have another person with me, preferably with more experience in that kind of terrain, next time I went into mountains that big and that remote. So, I was to leave Mt Beadnell and Lupin Mountain untrampled.

I was okay with that. Everyone has a different story, even if they walk the same trail. In my story, Beadnell and Lupin remained in mystery, and the finish line was not Cape Scott on the north coast, but the unassuming junction of logging road GRH700 with the Gold River Highway.

Sensing the bittersweet taste of an ending drawing near, I set my alarm for 5am and went to bed with the tent fly off and the stars twinkling through the ceiling.

Day of Lakes

At 5:20am on day 50, I was off with a borrowed day pack. Sunrise wasn’t for anther hour, so I raced up the highway in the grey silence. Thankfully most of the tragic on the windy shoulderless road was heading the other way, so I didn’t have to jump into the ditch too much for passing vehicles.

I turned south down GRH700, spying my first bear of the day in the bushes right off the highway. I half-jogged down the two-track, singing to myself. The mood was light, and I was happy to have a good challenge for my last day: 30kms by 1pm, my meet time back on the tarmac.

Gooseneck: Check!

Gooseneck lake was layered in golden mist as I glimpsed it at sunrise. Not stopping, I turned on my heels and skipped right back up to the road to continue south to my next stop.

Wokas: Check!

After that it was a lovely wooded trail up the thundering Quinsam River to the small and swampy Wokas Lake.

I sat on the dock to scarf some bars and chug water for a minute. It was still too early for any movement to be seen in the campsite nearby.

Upper Quinsam: Check!

A short speed walk down a wide and seldomly-potholed logging road took me to Upper Quinsam Lake, the third and last to check off my list. I ventured a little ways around the east side of the lake, where volunteers had been working to build trail just the day before. 

Popping out on the pebble beach, I turned to look at the distant peaks to the south. Somewhere in there were my missing mountains – and there they would have to stay, until I could come back to this place again one day.

Completion

At 9am, I turned around. I turned my back on the trail and headed out the way I came. And as soon as I turned around, I felt a sense of calm. Something changed – I went from looking forward the trail to looking forward to being done with it, in an instant. That urge I had the night before to hike it one last time was gone, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment and peace. Never mind that this was not how the story ‘should have’ ended. This was my ending, the ending that I created. And now all I wanted was to get back to the highway, rip off my shoes and socks, and hug my boyfriend when he came to pick me up.

The End

Back past Upper Quinsam. Back past Wokas. At the end of Wokas, I crossed the mouth of the river to hop onto a road that would take me north faster than the beautiful but more rugged river trail.

Saw a huge bear on the road, and didn’t break my stride as it ran away into the bushes.

Back at Gooseneck, I even had time for a 45 minute break. I was so worried about making time, but now I had plenty to spare. I watched the dogs of car campers play fetch in the glittering water.

Then, the highway, 45 minutes before pick up time. Shoes and socks: off. I died off in the shade of the pullout until my amazingly supportive boyfriend picked me up.

Goodbyes

So goodbye, Vancouver Island Trail, it’s been a journey. 50 days, of which 36 were on trail and 14 were days off. 820.4kms travelled; 18kms missed. I’ve faced so many fears, and learned a lot about myself. I’ve gained confidence and a deeper trust in my intuition. And of course, I had a lot of fun.

Thank you to the people who supported me along the way – the kind strangers and the helpful friends and family. A big thank you to the people at the Vancouver Island Trail Association who continue to work so hard to make such an experience possible.

Thank you too, readers, whoever you are. It’s been fun to log my adventures, even if only for myself to go back and reminisce later. As I return to my ‘normal’ life, I find myself thinking about how I can spice it up with a little more adventure, so I won’t be left craving something so extreme as an 800km hike to break the inertia. I guess that’s the message I want to leave – that however big or small, outdoor adventures can be such meaningful experiences that they are worth making time for, even if you only have an afternoon to spare.

(And if these blogs have gotten anyone interested in hiking the trail, or even a section of it, and you’re interested in more details, I’m always down to talk about it if you want to get in contact!)

Signed,

Carly