Gordon River to Port Alberni - June 22 We woke at 7:30 AM, under sunny skies and we packed up camp, without breakfast and we prepared to hike. We were faced with ladders right away, as part of the one-kilometer hike, back to the main trail. The ladders took up to the first bluff, but then we found ourselves hiking up another couple short gullies in between. The humidity, after last nights rain, was evidenced by Scott's soaking wet hiking shirt, after only ten minutes of hiking. We reached the junction in about twenty-five minutes and turned toward Gordon River. There was a sign indicating that our final destination was five kilometers away. The trail through this section was in as good condition as anywhere else on the trail. The mud was significantly reduced from the previous day's experiences and the occasional boardwalk appeared in good condition. The major obstacle for the first half of this section, was the frequent elevation changes, as we crossed over a number of small drainages. There were sets of ladders down and then up again, over each small creek crossing. The drop-down on some of the crossings was minimized with a bridge, but there were many others that required us to scramble all the way down, hop across a creek and then climb back up again. Despite the good trail conditions, we were still only covering about a kilometer and a half, per hour. As we passed the halfway mark to Gordon River, we had fewer elevation changes to deal with, but the trail became more arduous, with many more roots and steeper sections that one would have to clamber up. Scott had been hoping to get to Gordon River before the first hikers of the day finished with the Hiker's Orientation and on the trail, but we encountered our first group with1.5 kilometers left to go. We stopped and chatted for a while with them and then, as they turned to proceed down the trail, we gawked at their huge packs and reminisced about our days of not being able to minimize what gear to carry. One guy, in particular, was carrying and Arc'teryx Bora 95, and the expander section was opened up. I hope that he survives, with all that weight on his back, on this difficult trail. I couldn't help but wonder what unnecessary and heavy items he is carrying. To put things into perspective, my pack has a 60 liter capacity and I haven't once extended the expender section. The unfortunate part of this trail last section is that there are no vantage points to see the Port of San Juan. The whole six kilometers from Thrasher Cove to Gordon River is in the trees. While it is still beautiful, it does not allow for variety and when one is eager to reach the end, it provides no opportunity to gauge one's progress by seeing the shore across the inlet. As we neared Gordon River, we could hear children playing on the beach, at the nearby commercial campground and we used that as a measure of our progress. At last, we reached marker 75 and the beach wasn't more than 100 feet away with the posted sign saying: "Welcome to the West Coast Trail". On the beach, we hoisted the buoy (a signal to the ferry man across the river that there are hikers ready to cross). Within minutes, we could see him approaching in his aluminum landing craft, obviously designed out to handle large numbers of hikers. He pulled up to the rocky beach and lowered a ramp, enabling us to board his vessel for the short ride across the river. As were sitting on the boat, relishing in the fact that we had just completed one of the 23 "Classic hikes of the World", we found ourselves exposed to a short, but heavy rain shower. How appropriate, we thought, that the rains should begin as we were finishing the trail. We couldn't have asked for better weather, tides, or numbers of hikers on this beautiful, scenic trip. Once we were back on land, in the Native Indian Reservation on Gordon River, the rains let up, while we made our walk to where the truck parked. We had only rudimentary directions: that it was in Eliotville parking lot and that "behind Butch's, we turned left and walked 1/2 mile to the last house, which was on the left." It sounded easy enough. Butch's is located at the boat dock, so the starting point matched easily enough. We turned left and started walking down the road. We were walking along, with the river on our left and houses on our right. After a couple hundred yards, the houses petered out and the road became rural, disappearing around a bend, into the woods. Doubting ourselves, we figured that we had misinterpreted the directions. Perhaps we should have walked straight back from Butch's and then taken the left down a residential road. We walked back to town, but when we got there, we did not see an older white Ford Ranger waiting for us. Eventually we stopped and asked a girl if she could make sense of the directions. She informed us that we had been on the right track in the first place and that around the bend the road opens up to non-reservation land - a residential area. The property we were looking for was at the end. We started anew, beginning to feel like we were on another long hike. Sure enough, the girl had been correct. Half a mile down the rural road, we found the parking lot and the older Ford Ranger. Now that we had wheels, we drove back to the Hiker's Registration hut were we could sign ourselves off the trail. We were amazed to see that the number of evacuated hikers had risen from 12 to 17 in the five days that we had been on the trail. We asked the ranger what had happened, but unfortunately she was unable to shed any light on the evacuations. There was one day, after leaving Tsusiat Falls, that we had seen a lot of Zodiac activity along the coast. We wondered if that had been part of the evacuation. At the Ranger station, Scott sweet talked the ranger out of one of the new Centennial edition trail maps, we purchased a centennial t-shirt and we got directions back to Bamfield, via logging roads. We were pleasantly surprised by the good condition of the logging road from Gordon River back up to Mesachie Lake, outside of Lake Cowichan. For the most part, the road was wide, well traveled, and relatively scenic. We even saw two black along the road. The little Ford Ranger handled the logging roads nicely and we began to muse about the idea of buying such a truck, which would allow us to venture out onto the logging roads, opening up more access points to the backcountry and great recreational opportunities. From Mesachie Lake we turned left and headed along the southern shore of Lake Cowichan, through the cute little community of Honeymoon Bay, before finding ourselves back on a gravel road. We were ventured along Nitnat Main to Franklin Camp and then we rejoined the now familiar Bamfield Main with about 40 kilometers to go to the Bamfield Terminus of the West Coast Trail. About half way down Bamfield Main, we realized that we were hearing a dragging noise from under the truck. Scott and I both looked at each other in disbelief: was that the muffler system? What was it with us and this logging road? We pulled over at the side of the road to check, and thankfully we found a branch caught on the underside of the truck. Relieved, we dislodged it and then continued on to the trailhead. A little further we had another scare. We were approaching a one laned bridge, and as with so many of these things, the approach does not allow for much visibility of the oncoming traffic. We made the approach a little fast (maybe this is why they warn you of the upcoming bridge and post speed limits) and just and about 20 feet before we were on the bridge, we noticed another truck approaching from the other side. Scott slammed on the brakes, but being that we were in a light weight 2-wheel-drive truck, the rear end started to sway and the metal barricade was approaching quickly. Not knowing what else to do, Scott released the brakes, to get the rear end of the truck straightened out and regain control. This brought us onto the bridge, still traveling at about 40 km/h, headed directly at the truck, which was now stopped at the far end of the bridge. Options were limited, and thankfully the other truck had stopped as far to the right as possible, leaving us with just enough room to scoot past him - kind of like threading the needle. With our hearts racing, we both took a sigh of relief as we realized that we had very narrowly averted an accident and that nobody was hurt. We continued down the road, shaken, but the driver of the other truck sat on the bridge, petrified, for ages, before he started on again. He was probably waiting for his heart to start beating. We finally arrived at the Bamfield Trailhead around 3:30 PM and found that our Minivan had a flat tire. We were really beginning to feel like we were cursed with vehicles at this point and that it would have been better to keep walking. We moved the gear from the truck to the van and left the driver a note, along with some money for gas and a wash job. Then we climbed into the mini van and gingerly drove a few kilometers into Bamfield, where we put air in the tire. We had been hoping to meet up with our friend Candace and Richard, down at their float cabin in the Barkley Sound, just off from Bamfield, but after a phone call to them we found that for unexpected reasons, they were going to be unable to make it down for the weekend. They invited us to their home in Port Alberni, instead. A little disappointed about the cabin snafu, but suddenly looking forward to a nice soak in their Port Alberni hot tub, we returned to the logging road for a 1.5 hour drive back to Port Alberni. Fortunately, the return drive was uneventful. We made it to Port Alberni safe and sound. We didn't blow any more tires, the muffler system remained intact and we avoided any narrow accidents.