It's That Time

My classroom is officially ready for school to begin on Monday. The first assignment and a freshly sharpened pencil are laid out on each of the twenty-three desks. Each desk, mailbox, and locker has a student name tag, and all the papers that need to go home the first day are neatly organized on the front desk. My bulletin board backgrounds and borders are waiting to be decorated with student pictures and projects, and I have my first day planned almost to the minute. A few rounds of hangman were played just to ensure that the SmartBoard was in good working order.


I have a terrific teacher aide and I met three girls who are in my Grade Three class on Friday who were really sweet (although I have been informed by reliable sources that it was act on the part of one girl, and that her parent, who is famous for being found at the teacher's desk eating her breakfast early in the morning, is crazy). But crazy parents aside, I am really looking forward to the school year and having my very own class. I just can't believe that the start of school came so fast!

4 YEARS

August 26 was Matt and I's fourth wedding anniversary. I feel like we were just married and that we have been together our entire lives, all at the same time. I love being married to my best friend. He is such a strong and steadying influence in my life. Five years after we first met, he is still the kindest person I have known. I can't wait for the adventures we'll get to have together in year five of our marriage!

It's Official...

the Harker family is set to expand in Spring 2010. Matt and I went into the medical clinic to see a prenatal specialist for my first appointment. Just 3 months ago we felt that it was the right time to prepare for a new baby to come into our family and now here I am 12 weeks pregnant! We got to listen to the baby's heart beating today. Hearing rapid little heart beats inside my body makes it all seem so much more real. We can hardly wait for all the exciting new changes a baby will bring! My due date is March 2.

Amy Bean

I smuggled my sister Amy from Calgary to spend the last couple days with me. We had a lot of fun swimming, watching movies, hanging out, baking and decorating cupcakes, picking raspberries and making jam. She left this morning and now I have nothing to distract me from the rapidly approaching end of my summer. I officially begin work on Monday!

The End of the Adventure

After the West Coast Trail Dad and I hitched a ride into Bamfield, the closest town where we looked for a place to stay for the night. I love camping in a tent but the stench of my clothes and self convinced me I needed someplace with laundry and a shower. After hunting around Dad finally located a B&B with a single vacancy. The place would probably have only rated half a star but given the temporarily low expectations I had briefly developed, it was wonderful.

A few showers and loads of laundry (the smell still lingers on some of my clothes despite multiple washings) later we went down to the dock to meet Brian, the Juan De Fuca water taxi driver, who we booked to drive us back to Port Renfrew in his boat. True to the forecaster's words it was raining and we were informed that a third of Brian's passengers that morning had gotten sick because the water was really choppy. Only four of us passengers decided to head back on the boat. Brian said a ways into the ride that if he had known the extent of the storm he wouldn't have drove us, the weather, he said was normally only that bad in the winter time. Personally I think I enjoyed the ride more because of the storm. It was more exciting to ride through the crashing waves and rain. I'm convinced I would have been cut out to be a sailor in a different life. I love the salt water on my face and the wind in my hair.

Dad and I hung out behind the cabin for a couple hours of the trip so we could see the coastline and sea lions better. Brian kept the boat close to the coastline the entire time so we could spot various landmarks we had hiked past on the beach. He also took us up close to sea lions and a california grey whale (probably the same one we watched from Chez Monique's). I wish I could have taken pictures but Brian had the number of cameras lost on his ship carved into the dash and I didn't want to add to the casualties.

A few hours drive and a ferry ride later we settled into a campground and then checked out Vancouver the next day and a half. We walked and shopped around downtown, ate Japanese food, and trolleyed around Stanley Park. We also hiked the "Grouse Grind", a nearly vertical 3-km trail leading up to the top of Grouse Mountain where we got a great view of Vancouver. All that walking meant the soles of my feet still felt like they might blister. After the Grouse Grind, Dad drove us all the way home until we arrived in Calgary at 6:30 am the next morning. Thanks for the adventures Dad!

West Coast Trail Day 5

August 9

This morning Dad and I took it easy. We actually didn't end up leaving camp until 11:30 am, when we talked to another group carrying a radio. They had been following the weather forecasts and the latest forecasts were all calling for rain to begin that night. We weren't very anxious to spend another night in the rain so we decided if we could, we would finish the trail that night. As Dad put it we are both people who can put our heads down and accomplish something if we set our mind to it. We had about 23 kilometers to cover, almost a third of the trail, but we had the toughest parts behind us (though in truth I hate when people talk about the south end of the trail being tough and the north end easy, a more accurate description is that the trail gets less difficult as you progress north but you have built up so much fatique in your muscles that in actuality it doesn't feel easier, you can just travel more kilometers in a shorter period of time).



We paid the price for our late morning on the beach. The tide was in and we were forced to walk on the soft sand where one step feels the same as ten. There is no resistance to push off against so our leg muscles had to work a lot harder. We passed by the ship ruins of the Uzbekistan along the beach. The West Coast Trail is known as the "graveyard of the Pacific" because many ships met their doom near or on its shores. Ship passengers often died in the harsh environment before they could reach safety and the government was finally forced to carve out a rough trail to provide a lifeline for future shipwrecked men and women. Over the years improvements were gradually made until we have the West Coast Trail at present.



The last ten kilometers from the Pachena lighthouse to the Pachena Bay trailhead were a mental and physical challenge. Dad and I had new aches and pains in various parts of our body, in addition to the ones we had previously accumulated and it literally felt like my body might fall apart at times. As we walked Dad reflected that he was so tired that he hadn't even thought to take our pictures at the lighthouse. Instead when he saw another hiker taking pictures with her camera all he thought was "that looks heavy". Dad and I made fun of our enthusiasm on the first day when we would say "whoa this is really hard" with huge grins on our faces. And I joked that we didn't make very convincing poster children for the newcomers just starting out from Pachena Bay that day. The last two kilometers really almost "done me in". At every kilometer along the trail there was a sign stating how many kilometers we had left to go, except the 1 km sign was missing. Not knowing whether I had already started hiking that last kilometer really played tricks with my head, as did the big fat series of ladders at the end of the trail.

But then we were there at the trailhead and our mission was accomplished. I guess I can check the West Coast Trail off my life list but I would like to do it again sometime. The beauty of the west coast is absolutely spectacular and it was special that Dad and I got to share those great and sometimes painful experiences together!

West Coast Trail Day 4

August 8


Today it finally rained. Dad and I had a laugh on the first day because a hiker we talked to, told us that all the talk about it raining lots on the trail was a load of crap. The week he had hiked it had stayed dry the entire time. When I stepped outside my tent that morning I was actually happy it was raining, it seemed an essential part of an authentic West Coast Trail hike and after all it was only a light, albeit steady, drizzle.



Dad and I made great time on the beach and we were at the ferry dock on Nitinat Narrows by noon, perfect timing for lunch. On the menu- BBQ salmon with a baked potato or a world famous whole cooked crab. Nitinat Narrows is one of only three intertidal lakes in the world, being the only one with indigenous crab so we opted to have the crab. One of the aboriginal men entertained us with stories about people who had tackled the trail again just to have some of the "best crab they had ever tasted" again. One story was that the previous summer a sister had decided to hike from one trailhead to Nitinat Narrows just to have crab again before flying out. Her brother flew his helicopter above her to make sure she was safe and would stop by the dock for lunch and supper everyday. I, and I suspect Dad as well, were a bit skeptical that the crab could be that good. But it was in fact the best crab we had ever tasted and I suppose if I was wealthy and had a hankering for crab I just might fly out there again. After we stuffed ourselves, we threw the remains to the swarms of fish, and watched the jellyfish for a while before loading on the ferry to continue on to Tsusiat Falls.



Well if pictures don't tell lies, then I suppose I must have been a little weary during this stretch of the trail. Dad liked to snap an unsuspecting picture once in a while, which I guess is fair because the big smile pictures don't quite tell the whole story.



Dad and I watched the sea lions through a pair of binoculars for an hour. One huge white sea lion cracked me up. He looked like a bleached whale with his great belly resting a rock, when the tides would come in he would flap his flippers in the air while remaining stationary. The sea lions turned out to be just as curious about us and some swam quite close to us.



This picture was taken at Hole in the Wall and the one below at Tsusiat Falls. Most groups we played tag with on the trail camped at Tsusiat Falls for the night, but it had continued raining all day and we decided we would rather hike the extra two kilometers to Klanawa, the next campground, then wait around in the rain. By this point the insides of our rain jackets and pants were soaked with sweat and our body temperatures would drop rapidly when we stopped to rest.



Right before Klanawa we encountered the first cable car we would have to take (the river being too deep to cross on foot) and the last one on the trail. And what a memorable experience it made. Dad pulled the cable car across to the platform but we couldn't find a way to lock it in place (but there must have been one because other groups crossed in a much more dignified fashion). With one hand holding the back of the cable car and the other arm clenched on the platform railing I grunted in pain as my muscles strained to hold the cable car for Dad to load his heavy pack. Dad took my place and we made a split second decision, Dad wouldn't be able to jump in fast enough once he let go of the cart so I would go alone with the packs and have to unload them and myself as quickly as possible. I laughed hysterically at how silly we must look to the campers watching from the comfort of their sites, the cable cart moved quickly and when I reached land on the other side I frantically threw the packs and myself from the cart. Then Dad and I had a shouting match from opposite platforms as I tried to determine which way to hold the ropes so Dad could load himself into the cart, and then pull him across.

Evenings at the campsites were usually a relaxing time but this evening was the exception. The rain picked up harder as we pitched the tent and it was difficult to build a substantial fire, most of the wood being soaked. I was wet, hungry, exhausted, and so cold I couldn't stop shivering as I sat as close to the dwindling fire as I could without burning myself. I have a childish tendency to get very surly when I am hungry, cold, or tired and unfortunately, as I had all three I am afraid I wasn't the best of company. I wanted to eat a granola bar and curl up in sleeping bag, but Dad insisted that we needed a hot meal. When I had finally changed into a dry set of clothes and had eaten a hot meal I did feel better but I was still glad to get out of the rain and go to sleep that night.

West Coast Trail Day 3

August 7

I woke up to find my pack completely soaked! Not from rain, oh no that would be too obvious, but from my previously full water bottle which somehow managed to leak over everything. In disgust I inspected my gear. Nothing was dry (okay, except most of my food but I wasn't exactly in a grateful frame of mind at the time)- my clothes, my map, even the moleskin Matt had lovingly cut into a variety of shapes (so as to ensure that every conceivable place on my foot would have a custom cut moleskin to prevent blisters) was soaked! My pack felt heavy (and wet!) as I grumpily strapped it on my back.



But the beach walk along the sandstone shelves where there were tide pools was so interesting that soon I didn't have a care in the world. Dad and I walked along the beach at any opportunity we got. We enjoyed the views from the shore more than those from the forest trails, and the relatively flat terrain was more gentle on our sore bodies.



At lunch we ate snacks from the Chez Monique restaurant/shop (a bunch of tarps and a bbq) just before the Carmanah lighthouse. While we ate our gummy worms and salt & vinegar chips, we sat on the beach and watched a california grey whale who put on a regular show about every five minutes not far off in the ocean.



After lunch we rejoined the forest trail. Then the confusion began. At the first bathroom stop Dad told me that he would hike up a ways and find a place to sit while he waited for me. As a hiked along I saw no sign of Dad until at last I arrived at the beach access point (after sliding down a particularly steep and muddy hill). After waiting a while I asked a group Dad and I had passed earlier whether they had seen him. They said Dad was back at the Carmanah lighthouse waiting for me. Back up the mud hill I went. Luckily he had started coming down the trail so I didn't have to travel too far (but I did have a third pass at that mud slide). A little ways up the beach we used Dad's binoculars to watch the sea lions on Sea Lion Rock.



That night we camped at my favorite place, Dare Point, which wasn't a designated camping site (probably because the water wasn't drinkable). The beach had the best tide pools we saw throughout our trip. Dad has a sharp eye for spotting wildlife and he was able to find a bunch of orange and purple starfish. That night two really good things happened- I dried all my camping gear by the fire and I roasted the marshmallows I bought from Chez Monique's.

West Coast Trail Day 2

August 6

I could title this day ladders, ladders, and more ladders. I am not exaggerating. And for an inexplicable reason I feel very, shall we say, uncomfortable climbing. I suppose the feeling isn't strong enough to label as fear but I never liked climbing trees as a kid and an hour on the climbing wall in the university gym almost reduced me to tears. Again I was profoundly grateful it did not rain this day as it would have made the ladder rungs slippery and terrifying.

There were all sorts of ladders but the worst were the series of long, vertical ladders, the integrity of which came into question while I was climbing, when my mind would flood with images of the poorly maintained, rotting wood boardwalks Dad and I had witnessed in other areas of the trail. The vertical ladders also gave me the feeling that if I leaned back to look upwards my pack would me pull back off the ladder. Dad's least favorite was a nearly horizontal ladder. His pack was heavier on the left side where his tent was strapped and since the ladder was tilted that way he would get sucked off as he tried to climb down it. It looked pretty comical but it wasn't very entertaining for him so we both ended up pretty much sliding down a steep hill on that part.



Than after an hour lunch break on the beach at Cullite Cove to rest our aching feet and backs, we continued the ladder marathon until we reached the Logan Suspension Bridge. I gained a newfound appreciation for bridges on the trail. Minimal energy expenditure + almost non-existent risk of plunging to untimely death. I love bridges.

This part of the trail went through muddy quagmires and I marveled at how other hikers we passed kept their clothes so clean. I had mud and dirt all over the cuffs of my sleeves, my hands, the butt, knees, and hems of my pants. My hiking boots were caked in earth. I suppose my fatigue gave me a sort of stomp through it all attitude. Some people would daintily hop from board to stump to rock to cross muddy patches where I would march through ankle deep sludge.

There was about an hour on the trail each day that really tested my determination, positive attitude, and strength. This day it occurred during the last kilometer before Walbran Creek where Dad and I camped. My hiking boots felt like torture devices and each step made me wince in pain. In desperation I actually tried a tip I heard my mom share with someone on the phone once that I made fun of her for. I purposefully fixed a smile on my face (in actuality it probably appeared more like a pained grimace) to see if I could trick my brain into positive thinking. I think the thought that I must look ridiculous cheered me up more than anything. I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

Almost as soon as I had reached the campsite, I tore off the torture devices and soaked my feet in the cold ocean water. The sand felt like a massage on my feet and my good spirits were instantly revived. We camped at a beautiful beach location where I washed my clothes, and enjoyed a hot meal and fire (Dad takes all the credit for cooking and making fires). The height of luxury! (Actually I remember thinking this day among others on the trail that if all I had was Matt to hold me, a hot bath, and something warm to eat I couldn't ask for any more. It's amazing how simple my wants were when I had so little. Equally amazing is how fast my wants have multiplied since returning to a more comfortable lifestyle. I love how backpacking reduced my life down to the bare essentials, what I needed to survive, and stripped away the excess wants that usually clutter and complicate my life. It reminded me that I need to re-evaluate my priorities, to determine what things are absolutely essential to my happiness and well-being).

West Coast Trail Day 1

August 5

With fresh legs, enthusiasm, and a 30 and 60 pound pack strapped to our backs (Dad's of course was the whopper) we were ready to start the trail. We took a ferry ride across Gordon River and we were ready to go- or thought we were. Right at the start of the trail was a steep drop off with the remnant of a path going over some gnarly roots. That section prepared us for a valuable lesson we would learn over and over again, we would need to surrender our dignity and sense of pride to grovel under (sometimes literally on our stomachs or knees), over, and around obstacles on the trail.

The first 5 km of the West Coast Trail is notorious for being the hardest and slowest part of the West Coast Trail, taking most people four to five hours to complete. The paths are covered in huge douglas fir and cedar roots, and rocks (it's a miracle I didn't break an ankle here), and the elevation is so steep that I became very appreciative that it wasn't raining, which would have made everything even more muddy and treacherous.

I actually caught myself feeling sorry for people who were coming the opposite direction, even though they had completed 70 kilometers over my five. The first group we met on the trail just wanted to get out, and neither Dad or I told them that it was extremely unlikely that they would make the last ferry to get off the trail at 4:30 that afternoon. But Dad and I were still full of energy at this point and having fun (though I wouldn't become such a great poster child myself for people starting at the other end).


After the first five kilometers we had a choice- we could continue to take another 8 km of trail through the forest or stumble over the boulders on the beach. Neither trail presented an easy option and we opted to stay to the forest trail which certainly couldn't get any more difficult. The hiking did stay relatively the same with the exception of the rotted, slanted boardwalks that went through sections of quagmires. We took a detour down to the beach where I stayed with the packs and napped (with two hiking poles at my side in case I needed to defend myself against a cougar) and dad wandered down the beach a ways to Owen's Point, pictured above.



At 7:30 we trudged into Camper's Bay, a large campsite on a rocky beach (on the WCT the term "campsite" is used loosely as it simply implies that there may be a bear locker and an outhouse there). When I took off my hiking boots I met an ugly surprise. The pain in my ankle was not simply from negotiating the tricky terrain, I had had an allergic reaction to the duct tape I had wrapped around my ankles as a preventative measure. There was a band of red bumps and scabs that would get progressively worse each day. But the good news was I could sit for most of the evening and Dad made a hot meal of mashed potatoes (good thing because as Dad pointed out the jerky I bought tasted like fish).

The Adventures of Roy and Royall Day 1 & 2

The Adventures of Roy and Royall
A Log of Our Father- Daughter Travels Over Two Weeks


August 3

We left from Calgary at 6:00 am on a Monday morning and took the Trans Canada Hwy all the way to the BC ferry terminal (of course making sure to stop at the Dutchmen Dairy in Sicamous, my Dad is an ice cream fanatic, for the best cheesecake ice cream I have ever had). The drive and ferry ride were so scenic that I barely cracked a book.



August 4


We spent the morning wandering around beautiful Victoria's downtown- the harbour, the legislature, and the museum. Then we picked up some last minute additions for our packs (neither of us ended up touching the gaiters we bought).

Both of us were craving fish & chips, and at the recommendation of a gentlemen working at a gas station we stopped at a local fish & chips joint called "Father's" in Sooke. The place looked like a dive (it really didn't have a hope of passing a safety inspection) but the halibut was fresh and yummy.


Once we drove to Port Renfrew we snuck into a West Coast Trail orientation late (somehow Dad smooth-talked the orientation leader into allowing it to count as our official orientation). Then the orientation leader delivered some bad news- the waiting list from the trailhead in Bamfield, the north end of the trail, was booked solid for at least two days. But she gave us another, more appealing option- she could sneak our names onto the list to start from Port Renfrew the next morning, despite the fact that the quota for standby hikers has already been filled for that day. Everything fell into place after that- we were able to switch our water taxi reservation, a local man offered to watch Dad's car at his place and to give us a ride to the Gordon River Ferry at the trailhead, for a reasonable fee of course, and we found a nearby campground.

We even had time during the day to explore China Beach, where we saw a whale, and to hike the botanical loop which connects the tide pools at Botanical Beach and Botanical Bay. We were disappointed that there wasn't nearly the amount of marine life that we had seen at Tofino eight years ago, but it was a good warm-up hike anyway.