My West Coast Trail Adventure

“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” (John Muir)

West Coast Trail. Photo by Dan Meyers

When I moved from Warsaw to Calgary in 1988, my dream came true; ever since I was a little girl, I had always wanted to live near the mountains. It was my father who first introduced me to hiking. I remember it vividly; I was seven years old, and it was summertime. Our family (my parents, my little sister and I) were on vacation in the Polish Tatra Mountains. My father planned an easy hike – not too strenuous for us kids – to one of the nearby mountains. For lunch, he packed a huge speckled watermelon that he carried in his backpack. We hiked through the cool spruce woods, and after about two hours we reached a meadow, high up in the mountains. I will never forget the feeling of awe that I experienced when I saw (and heard!) a crystal-clear rippling mountain creek for the first time. I found myself in a different world, and it was “love at first sight”. We climbed the hill beyond the creek, and at the top, we discovered vast fields of crimson red, sun-ripened wild strawberries. It was an amazing sight. Our lunch by the creek that day was a feast: sweet wild strawberries as our appetizer, juicy watermelon as the main course, and cool water from the creek as our drink.

On that day my love affair with nature began. I feel most connected with nature when I’m hiking; I must admit, though, that I am neither athletic, nor physically strong, and I have a fear of heights.

Despite that, I keep doing what I love.

Over the years, I have hiked in many amazing places around the world. There are, obviously, hikes of different levels of difficulty. My greatest “achievement” was hiking the famous West Coast Trail on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, deemed by Parks Canada as “one of the most grueling treks in North America”.

Our adventure on the West Coast Trail started on a sunny day in July 2003. We were a group of six; two adults and four teenage children. We hiked for seven days straight, carrying tents, a week’s worth of food supplies, clothes – and everything else we needed – in our backpacks (each weighing around 15 kg). Every morning we would take down the tents only to put them up again on a new campsite in the evening. The trail stretched 75 kilometers, and led us up and down, and up again, through the rainforest and along the beach.

The route was extremely challenging. In the woods, we walked on slippery boardwalks and then crossed the impassable parts on fallen trees. We climbed the ladders that carried us down into steep gullies and back up the other side; there were 35 ladders along the trail, the longest with 220 rungs! While hiking along the rocky Pacific beach, we scrambled over the boulders, hurrying to make it on time to the next designated campsite before high tide would sweep us out to sea. Walking along vast rock shelves, we had to jump over steep crevasses, some of them 5 metres deep ­– narrow enough to jump across, but leaving no room for error, as even the slight misstep could mean falling in…a nightmarish thought. We crossed numerous rivers and creeks by many different means – by a boat operated by local Indigenous people, on foot, on logs, on bridges, and even in a hand operated one-person cable car suspended in the air above the water.

Cable Car Ride

Over those seven days in the wilderness, my physical and mental resources were put to the most rigorous test. I developed huge and painful (but inescapable!) blisters on both of my feet, and every step forward was pure agony. Yet I had no choice but to continue walking. It was only by willpower that I could force myself to take, literally, “one step at a time”.  I was one of the older hikers on the trail, and sometimes I would catch sympathetic, concerning looks from strangers, seeing my sweaty face turning blue. By the end of each day, after many hours of walking, I was so exhausted that getting up early the next morning and going on the trail again seemed like an impossible task. Yet, I kept going…I had no choice! How could I betray my fellow hikers? And how could my ego bear the humiliation if I quit? My miraculous determination, it seemed, saved me from disgrace.

Despite all these hardships, I discovered that Socrates’ words – “Walking is a man’s best medicine” – were true.

Ladder Climb

Every day I was learning that I had greater potential to stand up to adversity than I had ever thought. To my surprise, I realized that, when the situation demanded it, I could switch my mind and body into a spare “gear” that I didn’t even know was part of me.

Walking the West Coast Trail was a “hands-on” training in mindfulness. Practicing mindfulness, as science has proved, reduces anxiety, prevents depression, and boosts your immune system. On easier parts of the trail I would find myself practicing mindful “walking meditation”, when, free of distractions, I would become aware of every breath I took, of my feet connected to the ground, and of my surroundings. I would walk in an uninterrupted rhythm, almost as if in a trance, experiencing my surroundings moment-by-moment. On challenging parts of the trail, when my focus was solely on stepping forward and not falling, I was free of all kinds of mental chatter and tormenting thoughts, free of regrets and suffering concerning my past, and free of fear and uncertainty about the future. I was free to BE in the moment…and this brought healing to my tired mind, normally so prone to rumination, worry, and negative thinking.

The most transforming experience, however, was an unfamiliar sensation of losing my separateness and becoming an extension of my immediate environment.

On the trail, I was surrounded by amazing varieties of flora and fauna. We were walking through untouched temperate rainforests, with Sitka Spruce dominating over the other trees. One day we came face-to-face with the magnificent “Carmanah Giant”, the tallest known Sitka Spruce in the world, at 95 metres (312 feet). We walked through forests of Douglas Fir, Western Hemlock, Western Red Cedar, skunk cabbage, salmonberries and ferns. Fauna was in abundance as well: birds big and small, including bald eagles, hummingbirds and wrens. We spotted fresh bear and cougar footprints – luckily, only the footprints! Along the Pacific shoreline there was an abundance of marine life; we waved to seals and sea lions tanning on rocks in the sun, and watched whales playing in the sea.

Beach Camp

Far from the clamour and bustle of the civilized world, silence was our companion on the trail. I consider it a sacred gift of nature. The Benedictine monk Christopher Jamison says, “Silence is a gateway to soul, and soul is a gateway to God.”  One of my favourite authors, Thomas Keating, once wrote, “God’s first language is silence. Everything else is a poor translation.” I discovered that in the solitude of the forest, I was being led deep into my soul, feeling more connected with my inner self and with the small gentle voice of something larger than me – the mysterious Presence. These experiences have been truly revitalizing and freeing.

Douglas Fir. Photo by Alex Fu

When I walked through deep woods surrounded by ancient trees and giant ferns, with the trail not always visible, it triggered a fear of getting lost in the wilderness. In these moments, Dante’s fragment of “Inferno” (quoted by Ian Gill in his book Hiking on the Edge: Canada’s West Coast Trail) would come to my mind: “In the middle of our life path / I found myself in a dark forest/ where the straight way was lost.” We can look at the experience of hiking as a metaphor for life – it is about walking an uneven path that sometimes leads us astray, making us feel confused and lost…but then we regain a sense of direction, and see new light and hope. On the seventh day of our adventure the path, although not straight, quite literally led us to the end of the trail. When we reached Bamfield, our final destination point, we were loudly applauded by hikers who had finished the trail before us. I recall this moment as one of the most exhilarating moments in my life. I felt like a new creature. I had proved to myself that I was resilient, that I was able to overcome my physical weakness and endure pain and discomfort, and that I could let go of my attachments to comfortable sleep, good food, and resting whenever I needed to. I was also able to overcome my fear of heights, despite feeling terrified at times.

As a result, I gained a new sense of hope and self-worth, and a fresh motivation for life.

When we checked into a very modest hotel in the evening, I took the most refreshing shower, ate the best meal, drank the most delicious glass of champagne, and had the deepest sleep that I have ever had in my entire life!

On the trail, I felt connected with my fellow hikers in a very special way. Without them, this adventure wouldn’t have been the same. I am thankful for my companions on the road, who inspired me with their passion for adventure, who united with me in listening to the silence…and who sometimes even carried my backpack.