0 – 12 KM

Water Taxi

We wake in the Powell River Town Center Hotel, put our bags in storage, and have a buffet of coffee, microwave cheesy omelettes, and muffins. We await our chariot driver from the Sunshine Coast Shuttle. He arrives complaining that a previous group made him late to the water taxi. We do our best not to disappoint, so we hump it and are on the road by 7:30am. We make Lund in time for our water taxi, but not in time for the renowned Nancy’s Bakery. We can only dream of the glutenous gluttony we miss.

A couple of women pile in the boat with us. I point out an American bald eagle in the distance. The Canadians quickly point out that bald eagles are nothing more than screechy pests, as common and uncivilized as hordes of sea gulls. I reply, quietly, that their Canadian geese poop all over our golf courses. They seem quite pleased.

SCT Trailhead

At Sara’s Point, the boat driver wedges his taxi against a large rock, which appears to be flying up and down wildly. As we jump he says “go right,” apparently meaning “go correct,” because according to our map, right is clearly wrong. It takes us a while to overcome this implanted direction bug. Unfortunately, the other ladies do head right, and it is a long time before they realize their mistake and catch back up to us.

It is quite hot plowing through thick tree cover and Jurassic Park ferns. The trail is rocky at first, then gradually becomes more like we expect – soft and meandering. Bear scat appears, but no bear. A German couple, starting an hour behind us, does however see one.

Later, we meet a northbound family walking their neighbor’s dog, which turns and follows us, far away from the neighbor. The dog eventually passes us, and barks in the distance – at what we can only wonder. We feel a tad guilty when the neighbor of the neighborhood dog finally returns, frantically looking for it.

The trail gets rockier and crazier. It turns out that an amazing amount of up and down can happen between contour lines. What appear as flat and easy on the map, is anything but on the actual ground.

Helene hears what she believes is a jaguar, and I insist is a jet ski motor. Later, we come upon a vista overlooking a rock island, surprisingly covered by barking harbor seal-shaped jaguars and jet skis. At least that’s what we tell ourselves so that we can both be right. Or is it left?

Garter Snake

We finally make it to Wednesday lake. There are very few flat sites on our rocky ledge. And to top it off, the place is swarming with snakes. They are mostly black garters with yellow/blueish strips, though some are very brown. We must step carefully to avoid them. Bull frogs bull-horn quite loudly – so loudly in fact, that the Germans inquire what monster is making that monstrous noise. Unafraid, Marjie and Jim swim in the lake, while I cook veggies and rice.

With little room for a tent, I cowboy camp by a bench overlooking the water. We will have longer miles tomorrow, but an earlier start perhaps.