Find a TrailCan the 48 km Baden Powell Trail be hiked in less than one day?
Posted by: Matthew Inouye
Posted on: February 24th, 2019
Three summer's in a row, my sister and her husband hiked the West Coast Trail. And for three summer's in a row, my sister would insist that I also have to hike the West Coast Trail. "You don't really know hiking until you've hiked 75 kilometers, slept four nights in the wilderness and experienced a blister on a blister," she'd say to me repeatedly.
Fair enough. From the stories she and other's have shared over the years, it sounded fantastic and a lasting experience that would change my perspective on hiking and the British Columbian outdoors forever and so on and so forth.
But I was always hung up on one element of her stories -- why should it take four days? The fact that they endured four days of trekking seemed more like poor planning to me. Surely a 75 kilometer hike could be completed in two days! At any given moment, there's probably someone in the world running a 42 kilometer marathon in 5 hours or less. Granted, a marathon is on a predictable course where a runner should be able to run at a good clip without any disruptions. Where hiking the West Coast Trail involves relentless ladders, ropes, hills, climbing, packing and unpacking. That said, by even conservative measures, a day should be adequate time to complete a 42 kilometer hike. ..no?
Well, like any typical stubborn and competitive brother-sister sibling rivalry, I went to prove my case. Rather than head to Vancouver Island, I looked for comparable hikes closer to home. Enter, the Baden Powell Trail. A seemingly fair match to the West Coast Trail. Mixed trail conditions, fairly significant elevation gains and losses, and 48 kilometers in length spanning the entire North Shore. The trail starts at Panorama Park in Deep Cove, traverses Mount Seymour, Lynn, Grouse, Hollyburn and Black Mountains before finishing at Horseshoe Bay. If I can complete this hike in less than a day, clearly I'll have emerged as the wiser sibling and proving my point: the West Coast Trail does not need to take four days to hike.
At this time in my life, I had hiked some segments of the Baden Powell Trail but never in one complete stretch -- and not Black Mountain. To ensure that I was not about to embark on a foolhardy challenge that would end in defeat and comments like, "you were right sister," I started to research the Baden Powell Trail online. Eventually it led me to a local club that does an annual ultra marathon across the Baden Powell trail. This ultra marathon was notoriously labelled, the "Kneeknacker." Most competitors were finishing in eight hours or less. If they can do eight -- certainly I'm a capable twelve. I could already start to smell the sweet scent of success. Game on, Sister.
Marked down on the calendar: August 17th -- The Baden-Powell Trail.
Then came planning and sorting through the logistics for the day of. What should I pack? What should I wear? What time should I start? How will I get there? How will I find my way back when I emerge successfully from the other end 48 kilometers down the road? The plan seemed simple enough..
- Two bottles of water, electrolytes, gummies, a basic first aid pack and a headlamp packed into an ultralight backpack
- Running shoes, dress light and comfortable. It's summer and the forecast looks great
- Sister (the irony) to drop me off at the Baden Powell trailhead for 7:00 AM
- Average pace of 20 minutes per mile (13 minutes per kilometer)
- Quick rest stop and refill at the Grouse Mountain parking lot by noon
- An ice cold beer on a patio in Horseshoe Bay by 6:00 PM (7:00 PM if there were any delays)
Foolproof plan? Or proof that I'm a fool..?
The morning starts right on plan as I arrived at my sisters place for 6:30 ready to go. Unfortunately, she was running thirty minutes behind -- some excuse about "walking a dog." By the time I set foot on the trail, it was 7:30. It was a slight delay, but there was not a worry in my mind. I had prepared for delays and thus had time to spare!
By the way, the Baden Powell Trail is a beautiful showcase of everything that the North Shore backcountry has to offer. The first few kilometers of the trail are also part of the popular and often crowded Quarry Rock trail. As I am running along this stretch of the trail, it's strangely empty and silent -- save for the occasional dog walker. It's surprising how much more alert and aware you become, and how much more detail you notice when there are no fellow adventurers to distract you. The rising sun started to break through across the Indian Arm casting long rays through the forest ahead. As a warming orange glow started to kiss the trees, the dewy, moss laden hemlocks, douglas firs and cedar trees began to glisten and steam. Birds were chirping and the forest felt alive. At the time, the entire experience reminded me of how peaceful and refreshing the outdoors can be. I was ever more energized to win this challenge.
The pace is great and I'm making up lost time from the earlier delay. I even have time to pause at the Quarry Rock viewpoint for a couple of Instagram selfies. For the next few hours the hike is fairly uneventful, save for Lynn Creek, the Lynn Canyon suspension bridge and the ever constant reminder of how fortunate Vancouverites are to have postcard rainforest right in their backyard.
Baden Powell Trail Sign The Baden Powell Trail sign near Lynn Creek. Building of the Baden Powell trail was initiated by the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides organizations of B.C. in 1971.
Grouse Mountain
It's noon and there's 20 kilometers on the hike-o-meter by the time I arrive at the Grouse Mountain parking lot. As predicted -- and right on schedule. For a weekday, it's surprising how many groups and tourists are roaming around. Visualize hiking solo in the woods for four and a half hours and then suddenly landing right in the middle of a crowd of loud and frenzied tourists. The abrupt contrast from peaceful backcountry to a chaotic parking lot in only a few steps was hard to comprehend and very sobering. I hurriedly refill my water, devour a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans from Starbucks and return to the trail headed west to Hollyburn Mountain for the second half.
I cross over the Cleveland Dam on the Capilano River and start to navigate through the back woods behind West Vancouver's British Properties where luxury cars park alongside giant old growth Douglas Firs. In all seriousness, for one of the most expensive postal codes in Canada, it was surprising how modest and homely many of the cottages and homes appeared. With world famous back country hiking and ski mountains at their doorstep, this must be a classic case of location, location, location.
My "Baden Powell Trail in-a-day" challenge continues on for only an hour more before events take an unexpected turn for the worse. Now, if you're like me when listening to a podcast, you might agree that it can completely preoccupy your mind -- a complete distraction from everything else going on around you. This is great when commuting on a train, but not so great while trekking somewhere about an hour north of the British Properties deep into the Hollyburn Mountain backcountry.. I had become thoroughly engrossed in the podcast and barely aware of where I was hiking. As I passed by an abandoned logging truck on the side of the trail, it suddenly registered that there are no abandoned logging trucks on the side of the Baden Powell trail! Where the hell was I?
If you've never felt lost before, it can best be described as a violent wave of panic that immediately overtakes your entire mind and body. The sudden realization that whatever you thought you were confident about only mere seconds ago is now doubtful at best. Your composure completely changes -- an instant recipe for fever, sweat and confusion.
Attempting to retrace my steps, I discovered that I must have took a wrong turn where a trail crossed quite a ways back. That damn distracting podcast! While I finally realized my error, I still didn't know where I should go or what turn will set me back on track. No cell signal. Checking the map on my phone was no use. However, the GPS worked and I could see the pin marking my location -- but without a cell signal there was no map and no trail -- just kilometers of grey. For the next hour, I continued to pace back and forth, exploring every turn in an attempt to get my bearings and capture a cell signal. It was no use, I just did not know where I was.
Glancing at my watch, there was no more time to spare. Now, every single minute would count if I was to finish the trail before nightfall.
Eventually, my cell phone found enough cell reception to pull together a phone call -- still no data and still no map. So I called that one friend who is guaranteed to answer. After explaining my predicament, he opened up a map on his end. I tried to explain my surroundings and the turns of the trail in hopes that he could see a familiar pattern, locate me on his map and guide me back. Another failed effort. There are just too many trails that are laid out similar to this.
Then I remembered, my cell phone still had a GPS signal. Could I somehow pull my coordinates out of the device? Could that be enough to get me back on track? Fumbling around with the maps app, it turns out that yes, you can see your coordinates by clicking on your "pinned" location. A-ha! That's it. I read off the coordinates to my friend as he typed them into his computer. As if I was blind but now can see, there I was -- on the Brothers Creek trail about a fifteen minute hike south of a junction to the Baden Powell trail. We repeated the same process a couple of times until we were confident I was headed in the right direction.
With a sigh of relief, my heart beat returned to normal and could finally focus on the Baden Powell hike once again.
Abandoned Truck The abandoned truck that was not on the Baden Powell Trail
Time check: 6 PM with about 12 kilometers left to hike. Cypress Bowl and Black Mountain still lay ahead. With the sun setting at 8:30 PM, I'm slowly coming to terms with the realization that there simply might not be enough daylight left to complete the challenge.
There were two options:
- Carry on. But if I get caught after dark, I'm not prepared to stay overnight. Limited water, no shelter, fire or warm clothing.
- Give up. Exiting via Cypress Bowl Road is only a few kilometers away and it's a first class ticket to defeat. I would have hiked 36 hours to simply walk away. And my sister would be right. But I would be safe..
Naturally, I called my girlfriend, explained the situation and asked her what she would do under such conflicted circumstances. She did what any reasonable partner might do in that position and avoid being responsible for deciding the outcome at all costs. Clutch move.
Ultimately, I pulled together every remaining ounce of strength and hustled through Cypress Bowl, past the lodge and up on to Black Mountain. I'd reached the highest elevation of the hike and it was only downhill from there.
The view from Eagle Bluff As the sun starts to set over the Howe Sound, there are no visible trail markers and it's unclear where the Baden Powell Trail continues.
Black Mountain
By 8:10 PM, the sun was on it's final approach to the horizon. Only Eagle Bluff and scaling down the west side of Black Mountain remained. I could do this! While the rapidly fading daylight was increasingly adding anxiety, the end was within reach.
Or so I thought.
See, what I did not expect is that there are no clear trail markers to guide a hiker up and over Eagle Bluff. For the uninformed, Eagle Bluff is an open clearing of granite rock with a spectacular southwesterly view of the Howe Sound and Georgia Strait -- a mainstay for Instagram'ers and considered one, if not the best viewpoint in Metro Vancouver. Just beyond the viewpoint, the rocky bluff drops steeply into a thick forest of hemlock, fir and cedar trees below, thus starting the descent down the west side of Black Mountain.
Standing at the edge of Eagle Bluff, without any clear trail markers and no constant stream of mid-day hikers to lead the way, there's no telling where the trail starts up again. Checking my cell phone, the map shows that the trail heads right over the edge in front of me. Is Google telling me to jump off? That cannot be right.
The sun is now eclipsing the horizon. While a beautiful scene, I start to realize that I have to make a decision very soon. Momentarily, the remaining twilight will soon turn to nightfall and I'll be scaling down a steep and unfamiliar mountainside in the dark.
Phoning a friend won't help this time. Come on Matt. Think. If you were the one to mark this trail, where would you go next? Well, I'd go the easy way. What else goes the easy way? Water tends to flow the easiest route. Could a "trail making person" also be inclined to follow the water flow? Taking a step back from the bluff's edge, I look out at the granite rock. My eyes adjust and a natural path for water to flow begins to take shape in front of me. I can see it wind and snake along to the left of the bluff and down into the forest below. Somewhere along that path could be where the trail starts back up again. Here goes nothing!
I scramble down a gravelly and narrow clearing between the trees. It doesn't look like a trail, but it's wide enough for a person to move freely. And it looks like the rocks at my feet have been displaced. That could be a sign of past hikers. I'll push ahead for another minute or so. With each step, I descend another foot deeper into the darkening forest. If this is the wrong way, it's getting too late and too dim to turn back.
At last, there it is! The trail marker! And fifteen meters beyond it is another trail marker. Never before have I been so relieved to see a dull mustard coloured diamond of metal hammered into a tree. Now my focus shifts entirely to scaling down as much of Black Mountain as possible before the last remaining twilight fades away.
The Yellow Trail Marker
Twenty or so minutes pass until it is nearly pitch black and the forest has become an arrangement of shadowy silhouettes. Reaching into my pack, I pull out the headlamp. Even with the headlamp, it's simply too dark to make sense of a trail or path. My pace slows to a crawl as I struggle to see far enough ahead to identify each successive trail marker.
For the next hour and a half, it's a constant routine of catching the reflective glint of a trail marker, cautiously walking the ten to twenty meters up to it, scouting around until I catch the glimmer of the next trail marker and then repeating all over again.
By 10:20 PM, I can start to see the twinkles of porch lights through the trees ahead. The end of the Baden Powell trail is only minutes away now.
When I finally finish the hike, it's far later than the initial objective of 6:00 PM. Clearly an ice cold beer on a patio in Horseshoe Bay is no longer an option. However, as my sister pulls up and to give me a ride home, I can fortunately say I now know what it feels to hike 48 kilometers in one day. While testing both my physical and mental endurance, it is possible. And therefore, certainly reasonable to complete the West Coast Trail in two .. maybe three days!
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