Surfer’s shack built by Bruno Atkey on the “Wild Coast,” about 40 miles by north of Tofino (reachable only by sea–no roads), on the west side of Vancouver Island. We went in Bruno’s 17-foot aluminum fishing boat, with 50 HP rope-pull-starter outboard motor), stayed there a couple of nights, fished, surfed, drank whiskey, and took a driftwood-fired sauna when I was shooting photos for Builders of the Pacific Coast. Bruno was one of the first surfers on Vancouver Island.
Looks like whale bones.
Many of the shacks along this section of the coast are in the form of windbreaks.
This log must have been 100 Feet long. Most of the logs on these beaches are redwood. They’d be worth a fortune, but there’s no way to retrieved them. On beaches with more access, to the south, you don’t find much redwood.
North of Buck Creek. The trail on bluff coming back down to beach. About a 7-foot down. I tossed my hiking poles and then backpack down, then jumped.
“Many rivers to cross…” (I hear Jimmy Cliff when I think of this phrase.)
This was at Horse Mountain Creek. Note hiking shoes tied to back pack, so I had both hands free for my walking sticks, carefully barefooting it across.
Do I wish I’d had trekking poles! 95% of the hikers I met had them. They would have made the trip a ton easier. I don’t want them on good trails, but on sketchy terrain, they’re immensely useful.
This (the third) day, I was on a roll. Back from the dead.
I left Reneé and Pica a note on the sand, since they were coming along behind me.
Mr. Casual, among the flock of sea lions on the sandy beach at the (abandoned) Punta Gorda lighthouse
Photo: south of Buck Creek, trails like this up above the beach were such a delight.
Yesterday I stopped and walked on Stinson Beach on the way home from the city. Boy, was it easy. No creeks to ford, no rocks to hop, no deep sand to slog through. Piece of cake.
I realized what a life-changing experience the Lost Coast trip has been. For one thing, beaches for me will be forever different. Like I went into the heart of all beaches, and will appreciate and love them with more depth from ever on.
Also, pushing through when I was about to give up. “If it doesn’t kill you, it’s good for you.”
What doesn’t show up in any of my photos are the 1500-foot high cliffs hovering over a lot of this coast, awe-inspiring, but scary. Some big gashes in the cliff where there’d been slides, with whole trees uprooted. Raw.
On YouTube right now: Wilson Pickett: “Land of a Thousand Dances”
Took off shoes (sand was hot!) and crawled into shade of this beach shack to rest for 15 min., then pushed on. Wind blowing hard and it was behind me! I put out arms to act like sails and got gentle assist.
“May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back…”
–Irish proverb