Wolf Quest: Part II (the revenge)

It is surprisingly difficult to convince friends that amazingly epic camping trips to beautiful wilderness paradises with the promise of shenanigans are fun and worthwhile things to do.

Such was the case once again, until I mustered 4 companions at the last minute for this epic quest. Aziza and Faustine (my charming French friends) and Erin and John (two of my best colleagues).

Mom and Mark graciously lent me the Mazda in the name of revenge. I had to find another wolf to photograph.

Here is one girl who would not miss out on a quest

It only took 5 minutes for the first shenanigans to take place. I was instructing my passengers to place their beverages in the appropriate vessels to avoid spillage, when we were flagged down by a ride-check at 3 pm on a Thursday. Alright, nothing to worry about. "Afternoon. Have you been drinking today?" "No sir." "Then why do I smell liquor in the vehicle?" "S**t," I thought. "Putin," thought Aziza. Just before being pulled over, it turns out that John had spilled his juice in the back seat like a little baby, permeating the cabin with a fruity odour that could have been mistaken for alcohol.

My cool tone evaporated more quickly than the juice as the officer grilled me harder and harder with questions, interrupting me so I couldn't even finish a sentence, as they do. "Actually, we just came from a barbeque..." was the best I came up with. "Can I get you to step out of the vehicle sir."

Suffice it to say, I think I maintained my composure pretty well overall. He gave me a quick Breathalyzer and we were on our way.

Hey remember that time...

Next we were forestalled by the forces of nature itself. A forest fire had resulted in a roadblock on the only highway to Tofino. The prospects of our quest looked grim, but we remembered the wise words of Aragorn: "there is always hope." We stopped at a local tavern for information and we found out about a detour. Quest resumed!

We drove into the dark. Having found clandestine camping, it was then that my companions realized two things about me:

1) That the trips I "organize" are not the most structured, and
2) That they are consequently full of unforseen cool stuff, like that cool beach we camped on

Two western screech owls called in the forest but I was too tired to go hunting for this BC lifer with my headlamp that night.

On Vargas, our first order was to gather some drinking water. Armed with my new SteriPen Ultra (which is awesome!), John and I ventured into the drought-stricken woods to find whatever enclave still sheltered water. We found a dark-watered slough - it would have to do. According to the SteriPen website, you can treat nasty water around the world, even in a Nepalese ditch or Amazon jungle water, so I fully trusted in its UV capabilities. But could it filter even the dark spells of Mirkwood forest? Even as we discussed this possibility we noticed my water bottle was full of swimming copepods. I reassured John and Erin that the brownish tinge of the water was simply tannins from the decaying sphagnum, little different than those present in fine wines. As for the copepods, we filtered them through my t-shirt before the girls were the wiser.

"Don't worry, it's just the tannins."

The modern gentleman bushranger

You can keep your fancy ales,

You can drink them by the flagon,

But the only brew for the brave and true...

..Comes from the Green Dragon!!"

- Merry and Pipin

We lived like savages, sustaining ourselves on local herbs and a mysterious green dragon drink, sipped ceremoniously from a sacred clam shell. We played barbaric beach games and released our primal rage in uncontrolled howls to the gods.

One time, we took a wander down a mysterious trail that led to a secret cove. I ventured ahead, and beheld this beautiful scene all to myself...or so I thought. Two beautiful naked maidens appeared, warming their bodies by a fire. I was fully taken by surprise. They spotted me, and I did not know what I should do. With my large camera lens I had a strong instinct to not look like a pervert, so I simply kept on walking, pretending I didn't see them, although I probably should have just waived.





Our final morning was my last chance to look for the wolf, of which we had only seen tracks thus far. Amazingly, as I peeped out my tent door at 4:45 am, I could already see a wolf about 100 m away, trotting down the beach! I roused my companions and made sure they all had a look at it, at least to say they saw it. John poked his head out of his tent. "It looks like a little dog." I followed it down the beach, waiting for enough light for my camera to be able to capture it from a distance. For a while, it laid down and I sat and watched it. I was glad to be joined by Faustine an Aziza. We shared binocular views for quite a while. Then, from a distance, we watched our friend saunter right through our camp! Good thing we stored our food properly.

Deserted by Legolas and Gimli, I tracked this beast alone. Its tracks led me to the same cove where we had first met 2 months before. I took a picture. It heard the shutter and was spooked. I followed it to the next beach and then it was gone.

Wolf Quest: Part I

Greetings fellow travelers.

It has been one year since I last had an adventure worthy of sharing with you. The following is a tale of revenge, and I think you will like it.

Our tale begins not in a car full of mountain-bound adventurers grooving to Bob Marley and sustaining themselves on twilight bean dinners. Nor does it begin in a backcountry parking lot at dawn, nor an airport or even the pouring over of maps and ebird checklists in the study a'la Bilbo Baggins...

It begins, of all unlikely places, in a high school classroom in Surrey, a desolate wasteland where fate had me doing a practicum to become a teacher. Right now you are either thinking:

a) Tim, why would you want to have a career slaving away for meagre wages? or
b) Truly you chose a noble and righteous calling to foster the growth of our youth; the satisfaction of doing your work must be reward enough in itself.

a) It is the only way I know how to live
b) Yes, totally.

Within the vast sea of boringness that is Surrey is a diamond in the rough: a certain Secondary School where I had the good fortune of doing my teaching practicum. But despite all the fun times that was, I yearned for the adventure I had not had in over a year. I had a plan to go to Utah.

As the late winter sun set out of the window of my classroom and I was about to call it a day, I received a phone call: "Engage Education." "Crud," I thought. The decision I had been putting off for weeks...I had been invited to attend an interview event in London - presumably my best hope of getting a full-time job by September. I answered the phone and realized I had to make a decision right then and there.Will it be epic Utah roadtrip, or take a free trip to London to find a job?

A chameleon blending into my environment

In London, it is customary to wear expensive clothes to school, whilst in Canada, it is acceptable to teach in flip flops. Presumably performance is not proportional to appearance over here. Nonetheless, I do look 'rather fetching' in this coal grey suit (the words of Steve Pike). Who would have thought I will only be making 47,000?

Listen to me! A typical teacher, always the focus of attention so I have become obsessed with narcissistic rambling about my job and myself. No wonder I have a blog (maybe I should start a teaching blog...).

Back to my tale! I was able to scrounge up 5 days off so without hesitation, I went to Tofino with my mom, the only true companion who would accompany me on this quest...a wolf (and whale) quest.

We arrived at Pacific Rim late at night and pulled into a parking lot to have a stretch and breathe in the cool rainforest air. Not seconds after stepping out of the car, we heard the faint but unmistakable sound...of a wolf howl in the night. So eerie it was. Inspired to start our search at dawn, we made camp next to the Tofino cemetery where we would not be disturbed.

Our dawn rise was rewarded. At the end of Sharpe Road we heard another wolf howl before even exiting the car! A short walk to the viewing platform and a scope across the mudflat revealed a beautiful black wolf howling in the morning mist. It was mom's first wolf and I think I was even more excited than she was. Tofino was living up to its wolfy reputation.

Then to Vargas Island, known for at least one wolf attack that I've heard of. It seems folks had been feeding them for a long time. Luckily there is much more awareness now with signs and a food locker and what not, so we had nothing to fear.

Even this mud-soaked trek brought a smile to mom's face

I had forgotten to mention to mom that there was a 5 km hike involved, which was basically through a trench covered in waterlogged brush...woops. She was concerned about how her knee would fare on this mud-soaked trek. My concern, however, laid with the great burden she brought with her on this short excursion. I did not think an entire pantry could be packed into one backpack, but I was proven wrong. She will admit that I sherpa'd both bags for a bit, but even so, I commend the endurance and determination with which she tackled this hike. I mean, there were parts where the trail was a slippery log over a slough, or basically a ditch. Ultimately, she reminded me of the most important thing to pack on a camping trip: a positive attitude.

When we reached the beach, we found a paradise all to ourselves.

We found a soccer ball!

At dawn we explored the tidal pools, which were full of neat things.

My real hunt was for the notorious Vargas Island wolf pack. At 7 am, as I climbed along the rocky coastline, I heard a wolf howl. I carefully crept nearer to catch a glimpse of the creature...

Before I was mentally prepared, there it was standing atop a small hillock, casually howling. I set up my scope for amazing views. But it was a bittersweet moment as my Lumix finally gave up on life. My trusted camera for so long, the years of raging had taken their toll on the old girl and she lasted only 5 seconds before going to rest for the last time. So this phone pic is the only evidence I have of that amazing encounter:

 

We celebrated mother's day with a whale watching trip (pricey, but gotta try everything at least once). Nothing in life compares with beholding a majestic whale, and we had amazing views of 3 greys, which was a lifer for me, so we were pretty happy with the zodiak excursion (unlike one unfortunate sailor, who spend half the trip chumming over the side). I was secretly hoping her spew would attract some shearwaters. Grey Whales are pretty unique in that they feed in shallow waters by dredging up sand from the bottom and then filtering out the plankton through their baleen. I figured since this is a nature blog I had to add at least one nature fact so there you go.

Mom's camera would have to make due to capture this grey whale

It was an amazing trip and maybe the last quality time I'd spend with my dear mom before moving to London. Little did I expect that it would awaken a new dark passenger within me. To say this about my intimate encounter with that stunning wolf does the beast little justice, but a dark unsatisfied feeling set in when I walked away without a photo. In that moment I had become a photographer, one who is no longer satisfied with enjoying beautiful moments but must capture them on photograph in order to brag to others what awesome stuff one saw. I called Steve; I had a few questions to ask him.

Continued in Part II