Sombrio Beach and my first encounter with the Juan de Fuca Trail
The wild and wonderful Port Renfrew, where I have been spending two weeks helping out in the kitchen and dining room as well as with housekeeping duties at Soule Creek Lodge, is the main terminus of the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail. This relatively new, 47 km hiking path was built in 2001 and winds its way through the marine forest of the Juan de Fuca Strait and past a number of utterly stunning, remote beaches. Due to the high number (137) of major shipping incidents that occurred along the Juan de Fuca Strait between 1825 and 1930, this area is also referred to as the “Graveyard of the Pacific”. The hiking trail is divided into more challenging and easier sections, which I am just about to find out first-hand.
The climate at the west coast of Vancouver Island is a lot rougher than along the east coast or main land around metropolitan Vancouver. When I set off to explore Sombrio Beach, about 19 km from Port Renfrew, with some of the other helpers from France and the Netherlands, it’s a typical west coast day: Sunny but with a fresh breeze. After only ten minutes walking from the parking lot, we arrive at the most beautiful beach. Part pebbled and part sandy, the rough waves of the Pacific Ocean make for a perfect surfing beach, and the seaside camping provides the most scenic overnight spot for hikers and campers that I had seen up until this point.
After a short rest on the warm sand, Emilie and I decide to walk a bit further along the beach to a waterfall that we were informed about. But it’s not just an ordinary waterfall. Upon arrival we’re surprised to see that this waterfall is in between high, mossy rocks and we can enter through a little stream. I take my trainers off, annoyed with myself for not wearing my hiking boots, and wade through the freezing cold water up to the waterfall to take a better look. You could actually take a shower underneath it if the temperature was higher today.
We continue our stroll and get into the forest and onto the Juan de Fuca Trail itself when the beach hiking is becoming impossible due to the rising tide. There is supposed to be another waterfall heading further east towards China Beach but we’re not sure how far away it is. The trail is quite difficult to navigate as it steep and muddy, with lots of roots, and I again curse myself for wearing my shiny new trainers.
After a few stunning viewpoints, we’re tempted to turn around because we have already hiked quite a bit. I only want to go up to the next turning to see what the view is like. I duck under the branch of the tree to avoid another section of the path, slip and come up too soon – and promptly bang the top of my head forcefully against the branch. Shocked, I’m lifting my hand to my head to feel the damage. When I lower my hand, I can see that I’m bleeding. I have never hit my head like this before and I swear I heard it crack. I look at Emilie with probably a bit of a crazy expression on my face and say bleakly “I think I have a hole in my head”. Thankfully Emilie remains calm, has a look and reassures me that it doesn’t look that bad. I’ve only been at the lodge for a few days and I really hope that I don’t have to go to a hospital, which would mean that someone would have to drive me two hours to Victoria.
Upon our return to the lodge, my fellow helper Lynn is cleaning up the wound with Emilie’s help and Tim, one of the owners, makes me promise to wake him up during the night if I start feeling dizzy or sick. I’m so grateful that everyone at the lodge is so lovely but at the same time I feel like a complete idiot. There I was, dreaming about hiking the Juan de Fuca Trail by myself one day, and my first mini-attempt to hiking a part of it (with trainers!) already brings me to my knees. Thankfully the head is working properly the next day as far as I can tell and I go back to my housekeeping and table service duties, albeit with a bit of a headache. I learnt my lesson. The Juan de Fuca Trail is not a walk in the park.
