Thasher Cove

 

West Coast Trail

In his 16-foot rowboat, powered by an old 10-horse outboard motor, we headed out into the Pacific Ocean (an obvious mismatch—but exciting). We got a first hand look at how rugged the west coast of the island actually was. I’m sure, secretly, Mike was hoping we didn’t end up like those shipwrecked sailors. I know that’s what I was thinking. The West Coast Trail ended in Bamfield, fifty miles up the coast (hundreds of miles by car). Mike and I agreed we weren’t going to hike the entire trail. The part of the trail we missed by taking the boat, we would hit on the way back.

We got dropped off on a small beach. Until then, it was all jungle
and jagged rocks. The Indian was right; where he dropped us off was a good place for a camp. After dinner, we were enjoying a cigarette and the beautiful view of the ocean (even though it was cloudy and getting dark) when we heard screaming voices coming toward us. The voices turned out to be four chicks and one guy who were just now arriving after beginning their hike six hours earlier.

Standing around our cozy campfire, they’d told us they had a hell of
a time. They got lost a couple of times and found using the ropes to
climb up and down the steep ravines very difficult. They were
scratched and bruised and just plain exhausted. They asked Mike and me how we reached Thrasher Cove before they did if we left later then they did. With a mouth full of embarrassment, I told them we paid three dollars and took the boat.