Hiking the Nootka Island Trail, August 7-12, 1999

By Peter Gumplinger

A bit of history

Nootka Island, just north of Nootka Sound on Vancouver Island's western shores, abounds with the earliest history of British Columbia. The ancient Nuu-Chah-Nulth* village of Yuquot, at the southwestern tip of the island has been continuously settled for over 4,300 years. It is here, the only place in Pacific Canada, where native whaling originated and developed. One of the most significant archaeological finds associated with this heritage is known as the 'Whalers Shrine'. Originally located at one of the lakes adjacent to Yuquot (Friendly Cove), it is now in the New York museum of Anthropology. By the late 18^th century, when their ranking leader, Chief Maquinna, greeted the first white men on Vancouver Island, the site at Friendly Cove had become the capital summer village of the Mowachaht* people, housing around 1,500 natives in about 20 wooden long-houses.

At that time, Spain claimed possession of the West Coast of North America by virtue of the papal Decree of Tordesillas (1492). In 1774, amid rumours of Russian fur traders on this coast, Juan Josef Perez Hernandez, in the "Santiago", arrived near Estevan Point, south of Yuquot, but apparently did not come ashore. Again in 1775, a Spanish expedition under Bruno de Hezeta, with the "Santiago" and the "Sonora", under Juan Francisco de la Bodega y Quadra, merely cruised the coast. First to land were Captain James Cook and his men, including George Vancouver, midshipman on the H.M.S. Discovery, and William Bligh, master on the H.M.S. Resolution, who entered Nootka Sound on March 31, 1778. Anchored at Resolution Cove on Bligh Island, across from Friendly Cove harbour, the natives called out to Cook's ship: "itchme nutka, itchme nutka", meaning "go around", but Cook thought they were telling him that Nootka was the name of the area.

Captain Cook spent most of April 1778, refitting his ships and exploring the area. His trading for excellent sea otter skins and publication of his journals in 1784 sparked the fur trade. The powerful Chief Maquinna became one of the major traders and liaisons among the early explorers and other native groups. Vessels from the East India Company were the first of the fur trading fleet to visit Yuquot. By 1788, John Meares, a retired lieutenant of the Royal Navy, brought European and Chinese workmen. They erected a dwelling and a shipyard where the first European vessel on the Northwest coast, the schooner "Northwest America", was built and launched. Due to the lucrative fur trade, Yuquot was the key port north of Mexico for hundreds of cargo ships for several years.

Word of this fur trade soon reached the Spaniards at San Blas, Mexico. The Viceroy decided to assert Spain's sovereignty in the region by establishing a fortification at San Rafael Island adjacent to Friendly Cove, where the Nootka Light Station now stands. In 1789, Spaniards under Esteban Jose Martinez built Fort San Miguel, Spain's northernmost garrison in the Pacific and the only one established in Canada. Spain seized a number of ships, including those of Captain John Meares. This controversy brought Britain and Spain to the brink of war before Spain backed down via the Nootka Convention in 1790. In 1792, Captain George Vancouver went to Fort San Miguel to meet Captain Juan Francisco de a Quadra and put the Nootka Convention into effect. The captains did not settle however, and the flag of Spain flew until 1795 on the West Coast of Canada when others finally signed the treaty.

In 1803, after a period of escalating tensions, Chief Maquinna, the son of the Maquinna who greeted Captain Cook, decided to attack the trading vessel "Boston". Twenty-five of her twenty-seven crewmembers were massacred. The two survivors, a blacksmith and a sail maker, were kept as Maquinna's slaves for over two years facing death daily. The account of their sufferings was published in 1815 [1].

In 1889, Father Brabant built the original Roman Catholic Church in Yuquot, and in 1911, the Nootka Light Station was constructed to guide ships to and from Nootka Sound, by then a busy mining district. Logging began in 1914, but it was not until 1938 that the first sawmill was built in the area and a gold rush started in Zeballos. A pulp mill was built at the mouth of Gold River in 1967, and the federal government cut off funding for Yuquot. By the '70s, all but one native family left their ancient village; most moved to Gold River.

Since then, Parks Canada has officially commemorated Yuquot as a National Historic Site. To celebrate the bicentennial of the historic meeting between Captains Vancouver and Quadra and as a gift to the Mowachahts, Spain donated an exquisite stain glass window for their new church, which was built after the original burned down sometime in the 60's. The tribal council has built several rustic cabins for tourists arriving with the MV Uchuck III, a passenger boat sailing regularly from Gold River to various logging camps and native communities up the coast. More and more ocean kayakers now make Friendly Cove their destination, as do hikers wishing to experience the Mowachaht's traditional trail to their historical fishing camp at Bajo Point.

(*) Nuu-Chah-Nulth is the name of all peoples indigenous to the West Coast of Vancouver Island, while Mowachaht refers specifically to those who lived at Yuquot.

The party

I met Rayne about 25 kilometres into this year's 'Great Walk', a dour 63.5km pledge walk on gravel logging roads from near Gold River to the coastal community of Tahsis. Rayne is a Tahsis local and a veteran of this self-punishing event. Later that day, I met her husband, Manfred, and their friend Sheri. When talk turned to hiking the Nootka Trail, I was more than glad to accept an invitation to join them.

Joe is from Naniamo and was our designated leader. He had already hiked all or portions of the trail four of five times. He agreed to meet me at Departure Bay ferry terminal. When we arrived in Tahsis, Manfred and Rayne's residence was already bristling with activity and anticipation. Sheri was there with her husband, Dan, reworking their packs. Heike, a local schoolteacher, was to join us in the morning. Final arrangements were made with a Tahsis local to take some of us out to Louie Bay. The rest would fit on a relative's sport-fishing boat.

The trip

Tahsis was teaming with mostly American fishing boats eager to catch the prized spring and coho salmon. These boats are getting more abundant with every passing year, and with each year the good fishing is pushed further and further out into the open waters off Vancouver Island's West Coast. The mouth of Esperanza Inlet, Ferrer Point and the Nuchatlitz are now among favourite and still productive sport fishing grounds. We crossed Tahsis Narrows and Hecate Channel in a convoy of boats, racing out for their daily catch. We also passed numerous commercial fish farms along the way. Low grey clouds obscured the hillside as we headed up Esperanza Inlet. The driving wind was cold when suddenly an armada of boats came into view, bobbing up and down in the swell between the Nuchatlitz group of islands. They were slowly trolling their bait. There must have been a hundred boats pursuing the ever more elusive silvery fish. Our boatsmen sped passed this frenzy and turned into Nuchatlitz Inlet in a wide circle, slowing down, fearful of the outer reef. The shoals here are visible only between ocean swells as narrow lines of foam. Beyond these outer islets reside successfully re-introduced colonies of shy sea otters. Once prized by European traders for their luxurious pelts, they were hunted nearly to extinction.

The ocean was calmer when we finally approached the mouth of Louie Bay, a sheltered bay at the north end of Nootka Island. Its northern shore is littered with big chunks of rusted metal from an aborted salvage operation of a cargo ship that ran aground near Ferrer Point. The wreck was pulled into the inlet and cut into pieces before the operation halted. The sheltered lagoon just to the southeast of here cannot be entered by motor boat without great risk. However, its interior is accessible by floatplane and it is the usual starting point for journeys along the Nootka Trail. A flagged path leads across a narrow neck of land from the tip of the lagoon to an expansive sandy beach. My companions called this beach for some reason 'Third Beach'.

We disembarked into shallow water because the tide was going out and waded the last meters to shore. Our access costs were a whole lot cheaper than had we hired a floatplane, but we were now stuck near the entrance of Louie Bay with only thickets of salal between us and Third Beach. We made the wise decision to leave our sandals on and continue wading to the narrow isthmus at the head of the bay. Joe had been this way before. He told us of people who ended up being swallowed by mud holes 'somewhere around here'! I have a lot of respect for such tales and gladly left leading the way to my companions. Joe was first to get stuck just as we entered the narrowest part of the isthmus. He managed to free himself, while the rest of us panicked. Trying to gain firmer and higher ground, Manfred thought to use the direct approach. He got stuck next. Amid this confusion, I carefully retraced my steps some distance before climbing out of the water. Meanwhile, Manfred was hopelessly stuck and sinking deeper with every attempt to free himself. For some reason, none of us thought the situation was life threatening, and fortunately it wasn't, so we all had a good laugh before helping Manfred get out of the quagmire.

With the canyon walls narrowing as we headed south, the decision was made to don bushwhacking gear and brave the undergrowth. We feared that if we continued through the isthmus, we'd be facing the open ocean with no way to climb the left wall. In hindsight, we believe that this may well have been a better approach. Instead, we headed straight for the worst bush imaginable. The sky was overcast and not much help for orientation. I used the bush to guide me the way of least resistance, but I soon found myself separated from the others, overlooking a narrow bay that I couldn't identify on the map. Hearing my partners thrashing about in the underbrush, I hollered until Joe came to my rescue. He informed me that what I was seeing, was the same isthmus we had just left. Had I gone in a half circle? Confused and humbled by the experience, I returned with Joe into 'bush-hell', obeying his orders, which kept us on a tight compass bearing regardless of the terrain. Dan marched through this bush like a black bear, waiting for us at intervals, smoking yet another of his few remaining cigarettes. The going got even tougher when we came across a rivulet in the forest. We couldn't avoid getting forced into the valley bottom. When things got really bad, we started to make out sky behind the trees. There was maybe a hundred meters between us and the coast, but only a detour got us there eventually. We saw a pink flagging tape just inside the forest, but nothing else.

It was time for a break. Dan and I scouted the shoreline by climbing onto a barren headland. There was no way we would be able to follow the surf-battered coastline. We guessed where Third Beach was likely to be, but seeing how poor our progress had been so far, the prospect of having to bushwhack all the way made us despair. A lone ribbon close to the water's edge was spotted. I didn't give it much significance after the experience with the other tape. Dan went to check it out. He returned with the ecstatic news that he had found a trail. I reasoned that if there was a trail, it should continue along the coast and not just end at this random cove. So I set out to search for the trail in the opposite direction. Once found, I could follow it relatively easily, although I needed to get back to my group. The trail probably follows the coastline all the way to Ferrer Point, or to where a skid road leads to abandoned barracks on the outside of Louie Bay. We were all relieved to have found a trail, and we didn't mind that it was rather marginal. I happily adorned the route with more flagging tape. Right away, there was a long section where we had to crawl on all four under a roof of logs. This introduction turned out to be the toughest day of our five-day trek over roughly 35km.

Another group of hikers emerged from the lagoon access trail just as we arrived at Third Beach. The encounter was not unexpected since we had earlier seen a plane flying low over the treetops. With every year, the Nootka Island Trail is becoming more popular. Nootka Island's pristine wilderness-coast of immense white sand beaches and vast old growth forests of red cedar, Sitka spruce and hemlock has so far remained unlogged, despite having no formal protected area status. We can only hope that its increasing popularity will help and spare it from the chain saw.

We camped on a grassy terrace behind the sand. The plan was to get up early, when the tide was still low, and gain the base of a cliff at the far end of the beach. We were behind schedule, however, and just managed to reach it by dashing forward between surges like sandpipers. This was Joe's route although a high-tide alternate route also exists. It branches off the access trail a few meters inside the forest and climbs the embankment with the help of a long rope. We quickly climbed above the crashing surf directly below us. In minutes we were back under a canopy of salal. Our trail veered right and down and we soon emerged at the top of another bluff. We were obviously expected to descend further, so we scrambled over wet rock as it began to drizzle. The tide was coming in, and in the nick of time, we jumped off the last slabs on to a small beach.

The hiking was slow across irregular tidal sandstone shelves. In time, a deep and wide surge channel, which extended far into the hinterland, forced us to detour inland. Fishing floats, hanging half-hidden in a tree, mark the exact spot where one needs to dodge into the forest. They are always present at such crucial locations, everywhere along the trail, but don't bother to look for them until progress seems really impossible immediately ahead. As we walked through open forest, Dan announced that it felt like hiking in Stanley Park after yesterday.

From where this trail rejoins the coast it is easy beach walking all the way to Calvin Falls. We passed the remains of a container that somehow got loose and recently washed ashore. Its valuable cargo of quality lumber scattered all over the beach. By the time I reached the far side of Skuna Bay, the sun had burned off the fog and it was time for a swim. Joe disagreed and wanted me to press on with the promise of better body surfing around the corner at Calvin Falls. I prevailed at the sight of calm, shallow, and relatively warm looking water, though nobody wanted to join me. So I had a private skinny dip and felt refreshed walking the last kilometres alone around and under a picturesque escarpment.

Hidden behind a row of trees, the falls didn't come into view until I was almost there. When I finally saw them, I also discovered a nudist colony. The falls are a highlight of the trip and we were disappointed since we had hoped to have them to ourselves. These people shared our sentiment and gave us a rude welcome. They told us over the course of the afternoon, in various polite and not so polite ways, that we must camp out of their sight. We were enlightened that in a wilderness setting such as this, it was a simple courtesy expected from us, to camp far away from those who got there first. Never mind that they had arrived at this uniquely beautiful place with two powerboats now anchored where the falls plunge into a tidal pool, and already had had the place to themselves for several days. We learnt of their disposition because I had used their rope without asking first. It hung down the middle of the chute and I made use of it to handle myself up the splashing cataract.

Rayne, Manfred and I slept in the next morning. There was no need to get up early since our agreed destination for the day was only 7kms of easy walking away. When the three of us at last emerged from our tent, the tide was rushing into the mouth of Calvin Creek, making it impassable for the moment. It was the perfect morning for a lavish breakfast. The menu called for hot chocolate and pancakes sprinkled with dehydrated banana slices. When it was feasible to cross, the neighbours' mother came over to apologise for her offspring. Her gesture helped and we felt a whole lot better about the incident when we finally departed. I remembered that a geologist friend had told me about 30 million year old fossil leaves visible on the slabs south of the falls, so I returned quickly to photograph them.

I wanted to camp at Bajo Point, hoping to see my first sea otter in the wild among the vast kelp beds there. We brought extra water containers to fill at Bajo Creek because there is no potable water at the point. It was fun leaping in the sun across an expanse of perfectly round and smooth rocks all the way to the point. When we rounded the corner, we saw our hiking companions in various stages of killing time. Some were simply lying in the sun out of the breeze; others were beachcombing for shells or a rare Japanese glass float. Joe came up with something very interesting. He found what seemed to be a section of a whale's giant vertebrae. Moreover, it seemed to have been tampered with by indigenous people. The piece of bone had one perfectly round hole drilled into its side. We thought it might have been an anchor for the people who once fished here every summer. Bajo Point is the site of an old native village. We went exploring and found that now only a fern covered mound remains where a longhouse once stood among giant spruce trees. Middens dot a forest floor still conspicuously devoid of underbrush.

Only some of us were smart enough to pitch their tent among the tall grass behind the big logs high above the tide. Those not so observant had to stay up until after midnight, holding one end of their tent up, while the ocean lapped at their ankles. What a different scene in the morning! The sea had completely retreated far beyond the prominent rock sculpture, which so uniquely marks this cape. Everyone was up early exploring a myriad of beautiful tide pools. Searching in vain for the sight of a cute sea otter, I ventured out further than anybody else did. At the outer edge of dry land, I spotted several re-occurring spouts in the distance of what I am sure were Humpback whales. I even had the vision of seeing one launch itself halfway out of the water. Oblivious to the tide, I only slowly made my way back when I also spotted a false killer whale swim nearby. By the time I was convinced that I won't be seeing a sea otter today, I found myself on the wrong side of a quickly deepening water channel. Not wasting any more time, and not having brought sandals, I simply crossed it up to my waist with my hiking boots on. Wet boots was not a big dilemma. It was still early and the sun was already burning down on us.

The walking was easy at first, so long as the tide was still reasonably out and we could walk on the flat shelf. However, soon this became no longer an option and we were into serious "pea gravel". This stuff robs all energy from your stride, and as hard as you may experiment, no fancy technique of walking helps. All you can do is plod along patiently. The reward is Beano Beach, the most gorgeous beach anywhere, especially on a sunny day. An unsullied green carpet of forested hillside forms a most soothing backdrop. Small breakers curled up onto the gravel beach in regular intervals. It was a lovely sight to behold, when suddenly somebody yelled "Whale"! As if this place wasn't paradise already, there it was, a small grey whale in the shallow waters only twenty meters away from shore. We were in heaven, running up and down the beach, alongside the feeding whale. A ridge of sand blocks the estuary of Beano Creek from the open ocean. What a perfect place to swim and attend to some body cleansing. A well-kept cabin is just tucked behind a row of trees overlooking the scene. It comes complete with bunk beds, a stove, utensils and an outhouse. We hung around for almost all of the afternoon, waiting for low tide. The idea was to push on to Callicum Creek before sunset. This would give us a shorter day tomorrow heading to Friendly Cove.

At low tide you can pass in front of an impressive cliff and get to a second, more secluded beach, where a long rope conveniently hangs from a tree to help the wary hiker up a slippery slap of rock and soil. The trail continues in the forest within sight of the attractive meadows that cover the top of the cliffs. Callicum Creek is named after Maquinna's subordinate chief, who was shot by a Spaniard under Martinez in 1789. It trickles into the ocean at an isolated beach. At last we camped safely out of high tide's reach, so most of us retired early. I stayed up a little while longer to tend the fire and watch for shooting stars.

I rudely awoke from a great deal of commotion in my tent. I was told there were wolves just outside our tent. Everybody was getting up. Yes, there was a wolf. He looked unsure of himself while he paced up and down the beach, eyeing us as we were eyeing him. He then climbed a big tree stump and commenced howling bitterly. His mate had gone on and now he was separated from her by our presence. We soon noticed that pebbles very near our tent were wet. Rayne said that she smelled urine earlier. Had they actually marked our tent while we were sleeping? Eventually, he disappeared into the woods. We heard him whimper as he walked around us, following his mate who never answered. He was a small wolf with big paws. Wolves on Nootka Island are supposedly much smaller than on Vancouver Island or up North.

After so much excitement nobody wanted to go back to bed. The weather was overcast. It was time to go down the home stretch to Friendly Cove and a rendezvous with our boat ride tomorrow morning. A splendid old growth forest immediately engulfed us. There were huge cedar trees everywhere and every one of them was culturally modified in a tradition where natives pried large blanks of cedar from live trees over the centuries. The ancient trail was well worn, but many fallen trees criss-cross over it in short intervals. Travelling this portion of the trail takes more time than you might think judging by the distance. Lunch was a breathtaking viewpoint north-west of Maquinna Point. All day we followed numerous detours into coves and around rugged headlands until the church at Yuquot finally came into view. After more of the same, we made it to the wide tidal river that isolates Maquinna Point from Friendly Cove. The tide was still not out enough to help with the crossing. After we thrashed through a particularly bad section of jumbled forest further inland, we decided to cross just when it began to rain in earnest. The current was much slower here, but the water was deeper, up to the crotch for most people. Joe made the mistake of wading barefoot. Turns out, the channel's bottom is covered with mussels.

We camped just outside the Yoquot Indian Reserve. Dan and Sheri put up their new tarp and everyone huddled under it. It was still dripping in the morning. Armed with sightseeing tips (I was the only one of my party who had never been to Friendly Cove before), I set out to explore this historic place. I toured the old church. It has colourful totem poles framing the entrance inside. I was careful not to wake the natives who had sought refuge from the rain and slept inside the church. Only a little boy got up and asked me a few questions about my pack, which I had left outside. I didn't have time to go over to the manned lighthouse. Our ride had arrived at the dock and my friends were waiting.

A speedy ride down Kendrick and Tahsis Inlet brought us back to Tahsis were all of us decided to walk the short distance up to the Ruhl residence. Manfred revelled in the thought of seeing the long faces of his co-workers at the sawmill tomorrow morning. They had predicted that he'd never make it with his 60+ years. Instead, he made it look like a 'cake-walk'!

References:

[1] White Slave of the Nootka, by John Rogers Jewitt, ISBN 0-919214-51-7.

[2] The Quiet Island - A walk on Nootka's wild side, by Markus Kellerhals, Coast Magazine: 18 - Nov/Dec 97.

[3] Nootka Sound Explored, by Laurie Jones, Ptarmigan Press, Campbell River, British Columbia, 1991, ISBN 0-919537-24-3.

[4] Nootka Sound and the Surrounding Waters of Maquinna, by Heather Harboard, Heritage House Publishing Company Limited, Surrey, British Columbia, 1996, ISBN 1-895811-03-1.

[6] Captain Cook and the Nootka, by B. Gobin, J. Stape, L. Campbell, Agency Press Limited, 1978, ISBN 0-88829-042-X.

[7] British Columbia Place Names, by G.P.V. Helen B. Akrigg, Sono Nis Press, Victoria, British Columbia, ISBN 0-99203-96-5.