West Coast Trail - Part V: Walbran Creek to Cullite Creek

Getting water from the Walbran Creek. We prefer to filter our water instead of using pills. Primarily because it tastes better filtered and natural.

We thought this ladder was long. Ha!

I have my faithful biology teacher to thank for my love of plants. Now, whenever I see fuzzy little plants like these I exclaim, "Oh! How delightful! Look, father, at all the wonderful Lycopodium!"

Many wildflowers caught my attention along the way. This indian or labrador tea is actually a species of Rhododendron, R. groenlandicum.

The bog laurel, Kalmia polifolia, is very similar to the Rhododendron growing
near by, but is toxic. Not a good idea to confuse the two when out collecting for
tea.

Drosera rotundifolia. Drosera are among my favourite plants. First, they are carnivorous, snaring unsuspecting insects in the droplets of "dew" on the leaves which quietly fold over to seals the invertebrate's fate. Second, they are down right gorgeous and just saying "Drosera" brings joy to the heart.

So we climbed way up this ladder and then back down just to cross a giant bridge
to more ladders which go all the way back up before coming back down.

The largest bridge of the trip was the Logan Creek bridge.

Looks precarious.

Our packs seemed especially heavy as gravity attempted to pull us off of this crooked ladder ascending a sheer cliff.

The construction team in charge of this one had a good laugh. I'd hate to have to do it without the support.

Farther along, roots and mud became more common occurrences.

Once again, plant oddities catch my eye. These are liverwort thallus in their gametophyte, non-reproductive stage.

Bogs are great places to see interesting plant life.

Approaching the campsite at Cullite Creek, a young Steller jay watches us suspiciously.

Arriving at Cullite just after noon means we have time to explore. And just as well, because the whole Creek is enclosed by a cliff at each side. It was so secluded and enclosed, yet amazingly beautiful, I felt like I had arrived in paradise. Albeit, a very cold paradise.

Harlequin ducks and pigeon guillemots rested on the cliffs and rocks around the cove.

The ducks seemed to be feeding on something close to the wall's side.

The north side.

The boulders of the north wall created a unique landscape of almost maze-like quality. Small fossils, mostly clams and snails, can be seen within many of the crumbling boulders.

This male harlequin duck was very frisky. 

Dad collects some firewood. We were the only ones in the who site; everyone else made five or six nights out of the trial. We did seven.

A fallen spruce dwarves my father.

A curious fungus coats the bottom of a log.

With time to spare, we hiked up Cullite Creek for some distance. There are many salmon fry in the creek.

Keen sandals are perfect for these kinds of semiaquatic excursions.

Looking back at the temporarily unneeded cable car over Cullite Creek.

We do practice no trace camping so no one would ever know we had been there. But it is certainly easy to tell when we are there. As messy as our house.

West Coast Trail - Part IV: Cribs Creek to Walbran Creek

Another sea lion rock is visible from the Carmanah Lighthouse. This one seems to have more youngsters on it but the lighthouse manager informed us that this is not were they are birthed. Occasionally, a California sea lion will appear among the larger steller sea lions.

I don't know why little stairs like this still amuse me.

Ah, yes. The condition of the boardwalk continues to improve. That's why I'm
lying in the devil's club plant pulling thistles out of my pants.

BO-RING!

The natives have a shack set up on Carmanah Beach where they sell burgers. The burgers tasted delicious and the view of the lighthouse was quaint.

Many cable cars are utilized at river crossings but we can usually find a way around them. This one, at Carmanah Creek, was easily bypassed along the beach. Someone had placed a few logs over the river at a narrow place.

The bald eagle is a common occurrence on the West Coast Trail. Some fellow backpackers who recently completed the southern counterpart to the West Coast Trail, the Juan de Fuca, said there are far more gulls and less eagles there.

Very interesting rock formations jut like sore thumbs from the limestone shelf.
Formed when the surrounding softer rock erodes away, these formations are
unstable and often crumble away. Although some of these formations are thought
to be very old, they collapse so quickly I don't imagine they are much more than a
couple thousand.

We enter a boulder fields. The chef at the burger place did everything he could to
dissuade us from taking this rout, claiming the trail was infinitely easier. However,
our exploratory nature got the better of us. And besides, we were told by other
hikers that it's worth the view and the boulders aren't bad if they are dry. The real
boulders, however, wont be passed for another few days.

Seals litter the rocks like sacks of potatoes.

A small cascade falls from Bonilla Creek.

The sandstone shelf looks like the ploughed garden of mermaids, but the ridges are only caused by the waives carving around clumps of algae.

This bald eagle was sitting far out at low tide, probably scavenging for decomposing gifts.

We have seen a couple eagles chasing oyster catchers and ducks but, although they came very close, there were no captures.

We are often torn between walking on the slick, algae-covered shelf, and the sand. For me, the shelf wins out. Sand is usually to soft and drains one's energy.

Cormorants look like little trees growing on islands. But that rock will be submerged at high tide.

Cormorants. Gotta love 'em.

Muscles grow wherever they can find a foothold. In this case, a pit in the limestone.

Coraline algae gives the tide pools a salmon-pink colour.

Myself.

Dad crosses a makeshift bridge to avoid the use of the cable car over the Walbran.

Walbran Creek will be our home for the night. The water of the river looked so clear and cool, and we were so hot and sweaty. But we didn't have any swimwear. When the other hikers started going in with only their underwear, we followed suit. Stick with the cultural norms, I suppose.