The West Coast Trail - Hostel Takeover

I woke this morning to an absolutely beautiful sunrise - the birds were singing, there was a slight mist over the harbour, and there were hundreds of gorgeous autumnal leaves fluttering down gracefully from their arboreal origins and impaling themselves on my hair. Took me a while to get them all removed from my Spiked Mullet (and I poked my fingers more times than I care to admit while doing it, too!), but eventually I was able to disengage myself from nature's helmet and survey my surroundings.

I was on land - this much was clear. But aside from that, I was still somewhat disoriented. Being the intrepid hiker/letterboxer that I am, however, I decided to put my skills to use. I NEEDED to find my way to Victoria, and quickly, since my precious stash of toilet paper had been in my somewhat-compromised backpack (errr, technically, now 3/4 of a backpack), and last night's dip in the harbour had reduced it to an amorphous blob. I quickly fashioned a makeshift compass out of an old soda can, some duct tape, a bit of twine, 3 soggy Cheeze Doodles, and a pine cone. I scurried up a nearby pole to get a better view while honing in on my coordinates, when I discovered that the pole I was scurrying up just happened to be a street sign -- which indicated, by my keen reckoning, that I was at the corner of Wharf and Belleville, downtown. Victoria at last!

Now that I was here, I had some time to kill. My bus for the West Coast Trail (WCT) didn't leave until 6:30 the next morning. I had decided, rather than camp out under a bridge or in a dumpster (for fear of running into a geocache), that I would spend the night at a Hostel. I wasn't sure exactly where the hostel was, but how hard could it be to find? And I still had that darn thread on my backpack unraveling as I went, so I figured it would be easy enough to retrace my steps if necessary. And so I wandered around this charming city, taking in all the sights, sounds, and occasional smells of this Jewel of the Canadian Coast.

I eventually stumbled upon what I thought was a cool little museum - literally - as the ever-trailing green backpack thread (darn, that is wonderfully strong thread!) tripped me and I landed spike-first upon the pristine doors of "Victoria Miniature World". What a delightful display of deliciously diminutive dioramas! Yet as I wandered through this wee world of wistful wonders, I couldn't help but think something was missing. Oh sure there were medieval castles and villages and magical lands and circuses, but... there were no teeny tiny log cabins! Fortunately, I had a nearly infinite supply of AQ Pencils at my disposal, and proceeded to enliven the "Frontier Town" display with what I am not ashamed to say was a veritable masterpiece of writing-implement construction. Sadly, while erecting this small but detailed shanty, my ever-waning backpack tipped over and somewhat crushed the Dry Goods Store, the Blacksmith Shop, a Saloon, and Miss Scarlett's House of Revelry. This, then, was my cue that it was probably time to leave.

I beat an undersized yet hasty retreat, with green thread trailing behind me like, well, like a green thread trailing behind me. I hurried around the corner, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but ANOTHER must-see sightseeing site: The Victoria Bug Zoo (which I like to think of as the "Trail Snack Museum"). This place was fantastic. In addition to bigger, crunchier bugs, the Zoo boasts the world's largest captive nest of Leafcutter Ants! I learned a LOT about Leafcutter Ants:

1) Leafcutter ants rely on an advanced system of ant-fungus mutualism,

2) There are four castes in the Leafcutter ant colony hierarchy,

3) The clever little buggers can crawl into a backpack when you aren't looking and follow a green thread in single file, tens of thousands of them, marching along the thread back to Miniature World and taking up permanent residence in an AQ-pencil log cabin.

Not many people know stuff like that.

So once again I found myself out on the street. It was starting to get rather late in the day, so I figured it was time to find the elusive hostel! Back and forth, up and down, diagonal and oblique, I wandered the lonely streets of Victoria, searching, ever seeking, knowing that somewhere out there in this compassionless morass of Canadian humanity there was a warm and dry place where I could lay my weary (yet pointy) head to rest. Preferably with internet access.

Just as I was about to give up hope of a comfortable bed and consign myself to camping beneath a bridge, I found it. The. Perfect. Place. It was kismet, it was fate, it was truly meant to be... my heart leaped with joy and rapture overwhelmed me as I gleefully checked in to: The Turtle Hostel! My hands quivered with anticipation as I placed my unraveling backpack upon the mildly stained upper bunk in the main room, surrounded by murals of turtles in backpacks! Seriously! You can't make stuff like this up!

So here I lie, comfortable and comforted, ensconced in cut-rate luxury amid made-to-order art, and awaiting the early arrival tomorrow morning of the bus that will take me to the WCT trailhead, where I will be taking an "Orientation Class" before embarking on the actual hike. I wonder what adventures lie ahead? Only time will tell! But in the meantime, I take one last look around before lying my mulleted cranium to sleep... wait... what is that movement? Something seems to be moving along the thread trailing from my backpack. Could it be...? Uh oh... ANTS!