Andrew and I went to check out a new coffee shop this morning and, walking along the Songhees Walkway, spotted three hawks in a spot where Andrew has seen them fairly regularly before. Glad I now know exactly where he's talking about!
Pretty happy with these photos. The third one just makes me laugh!
Last day! Just 12 km to go.
But first—a little overnight drama.
At some point in the night, I woke briefly to the sound of someone in a nearby tent making noise. It was short-lived and sounded like a bad dream, so I rolled over and went back to sleep. Then, around 2 a.m., our small area of the campground erupted in chaos.
From the tent right next to mine came loud, panicked screaming—high-pitched enough that it genuinely sounded like a woman being attacked. I recognized the tents as belonging to the large group I’d met the day before. No one in the group was saying anything, which was… odd.
I called out, “Is everything okay?” No answer—just more screaming. Other campers started asking if it was a bear, but I doubted it. We were deep in the middle of a cluster of tents, and a bear wandering through without anyone else hearing or seeing it seemed unlikely.
Then, a male voice, quietly said, “I’m stuck.”
I sat up, baffled. “What’s going on, you guys?”
“I’m stuck,” he repeated.
“What do you mean, you’re stuck?”
Pause. “I’m stuck in my tent.”
…Seriously? At 2 a.m.? I could only think: You’ve got to frickin' be kidding me! Someone else in the tent finally called out, “We’re all okay. Everything’s fine.” Things settled down after that, but it was one of the strangest wake-up calls I’ve ever had. In the morning, I was tempted to ask for the full story, but decided to let it go.
I got up around 6:30 and was on the trail by 7:25. The first kilometre was notoriously muddy, something I’d read about on the WCT Facebook group and in the route description in the app. Thankfully, the recent dry weather worked in my favour—I made it through without getting swallowed by the mud.
The first landmark was the Pachena Point Lighthouse, but Parks Canada closed all the lighthouses on the trail last year due to unstable ground (and probably money). The short access trail was blocked, so I had to settle for a glimpse through the trees and fog.
Next up was Sea Lion Rock, which I’d been excited about for days. The guidebook promised, “you can hear, and smell them long before you see them.” The side trail was about 250 m downhill, but as I approached, I couldn’t hear—or smell—anything. Sure enough, when I got to the viewpoint, the rock was empty. Another hiker optimistically said, “Oh, they’re in the water!” but my telephoto lens confirmed it was kelp, not sea lions. Honestly, if I had one disappointment on this entire hike, it was not seeing more wildlife.
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| Not a sea lion in sight! |
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| A few sea gulls in the fog. |
A few kilometres later, I finally did hear the barks of sea lions drifting in from the coast—but the trail was inland, and there was no way to get a view.
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| One last relic from years gone by. |
The final stretch of trail was the easiest of the entire trip—mostly flat, well-worn forest path. Trail signs counted down the distance to Pachena Bay, which somehow made the last kilometres feel slower.
If the tides are low, the last 800 m to the finish is a pleasant walk on firm sand; if not, you have to tackle seven more ladders. I happily arrived at low tide and strolled the beach to the Parks office, marking the official end of the West Coast Trail.
I reached Pachena Bay at 11:40 a.m.—12 km in 4 hours and 15 minutes, including the side trip to Sea Lion Rock and the muddy start. After a refreshing shower at the Pachena Bay Campground, I began the long drive home.
Final backpack weight: 19 lbs.
I woke at 6:45, had breakfast, and was on the trail by 8:30. Before setting out, I made a point of drinking plenty of water and electrolytes—I’d gone to bed with what felt like a dehydration headache, and it was still lingering in the morning.
The day began with a 3 km stretch of beach walking. Much of it could be done on the sandstone “shelf,” which made the going a bit easier but required careful footing—those rocks can be deceptively slick. Somewhere along this stretch, I saw a man running the trail. Running. On the West Coast Trail. Craziness!
Fog hung over the water again, spoiling my hopes of spotting whales during the day. I did catch a brief glimpse of one that evening—a distant arc of its back and the spray of a waterspout far out to sea—but it was gone almost as soon as I saw it. Disappointing, but still a reminder that they were out there.
Leaving the beach meant climbing more ladders back into the forest. Along the way, I passed the rusted remains of an old donkey engine, the skeleton of a horse-drawn road grader, and a pair of the big red Parks Canada chairs. I didn’t stop for the chairs, as a large group had already claimed them for a break. This stretch of coast is notorious for shipwrecks, and it’s not hard to imagine the history hidden beneath the waves.
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| Chainsaw art |
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| Probably last winter's storm damage. The scent of freshly cut wood was still in the air. |
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| The mascot of the West Coast Trail. Thought I'd see more slugs on the trail than I did. |
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| Pearly Everlasting (identification thanks to iNaturalist) |
A long series of ladders led back down to the beach at Tsocowis Creek, where the Trail Guardians have a small cabin. The Guardians, who are members of the local First Nations communities, work hard to maintain the trail through the hiking season and are often the first in position to assist in rescue situations.
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| Humorously scruffy looking! |
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| I think this poor little guy had an injured wing. He hopped along in front of me for a while and just moved to the side to let me pass, as opposed to flying away. |
I’d brought water shoes for creek and river crossings, but the summer’s dryness meant I could rock-hop or log-balance across both Darling and Michigan creeks without getting wet.
I reached Michigan campsite at 1:30 p.m., making it 5 hours for 11 km—with lots of quick photo stops along the way. I found another nice forest site for my tent and made sure not to spread out too much, knowing more hikers would be arriving later. Michigan is a busy spot—it’s the last campsite before the trail ends at Pachena Bay (or the first, if you’re starting there).
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| Buoys mark campsite and important transitions between beach and trail. |
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| View from the outhouse platform. Bear bin in the bottom centre of the photo. |
Somewhere along the day’s walk, I picked up a blister on my big toe. Luckily, I caught it early and patched it up before it could turn into a bigger problem.
I was in my tent by 8:00, reading and jotting down diary notes before falling asleep. Keeping a daily journal was one of the best decisions I made—without it, this trip report would have been much harder to piece together!
