First Day of Ownership - and First Day Bronco Camping

[inlifefindadventure]

I picked up my Badlands yesterday at an out-of-town dealer so I'm moseying home down Vancouver Island, camping as I go. I prefer spots on water and last night didn't disappoint with a conventional campground spot overlooking some rapids. Whether it's ocean waves lapping the shore or, in this case, water running rapidly over rocks, it's great to fall asleep in a forest to the sound of water.

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[HighVelocity]

At least it's the proper color.

 

[inlifefindadventure]

At least it's the proper color.

Ha yes, I've owned enough of the "good-for-resale" tones in my life. It was either VB or EG and by the time I was able to buy, Ford had made up my mind on that, lol. Some days, I'm green with envy, but I'll survive.

 

[EvilJim1971]

At least it's the proper color.

You mean... Au least it is A color.

 

[Beach_Bum]

I picked up my Badlands yesterday at an out-of-town dealer so I'm moseying home down Vancouver Island, camping as I go. I prefer spots on water and last night didn't disappoint with a conventional campground spot overlooking some rapids. Whether it's ocean waves lapping the shore or, in this case, water running rapidly over rocks, it's great to fall asleep in a forest to the sound of water.

Congrats. Nice photos. The first of many adventures...

 

[CitrusBronco]

Congrats, such a great way to get introduced to your new ride.

 

[Valhalla]

Awesome!!! you are in the woods!!!!

 

[Felix808]

Great stuff! Wasting no time. Congrats !!!

 

[Steve_In_29]

At least it's the proper color.

Indeed. Almost makes up for the extra doors

 

[jerzeybronco201]

Looks awesome! Can't wait to take the Bronco out to the woods! Enjoy!

 

[cjorca]

welcome to the Bronco family ! Hope to see you out on the trails ! Join Epic Off Road on Facebook .... They do runs all over Van Isle almost every weekend

 

[SeptuagenerianSasquatch]

Congrats. Nice photos. The first of many adventures...

Nicely posed at unpaved spots. You'll get further from pavement than that, I'm sure.
We need a kind of "beyond Subaru range" terminology or rating system.

 

[C6ZZGT]

I picked up my Badlands yesterday at an out-of-town dealer so I'm moseying home down Vancouver Island, camping as I go. I prefer spots on water and last night didn't disappoint with a conventional campground spot overlooking some rapids. Whether it's ocean waves lapping the shore or, in this case, water running rapidly over rocks, it's great to fall asleep in a forest to the sound of water.

You must have gone to Port Hardy to have to camp out on the way home !

 

[inlifefindadventure]

You must have gone to Port Hardy to have to camp out on the way home !

You must have gone to Port Hardy to have to camp out on the way home !

I didn't hit Port Hardy on this trip principally because it is the far north end of the Island and I live in the south but I also have a love-hate relationship with that place. Let me explain.

The love of course comes from the fact that Port Hardy is the gateway to San Josef Bay, one of the most beautiful and highly rated beaches in the world. I actually prefer San Jo to Tofino mainly because it isn't as overrun with tourists. It's a fine-grained sand beach which, as I'm sure you're aware, is uncharacteristic of the PNW but the real draw for me is the amazing sea stacks that line the bay. Until I discovered San Jo for my sea stack fix, I would venture to beautiful iconic spots like Oregon's Cannon Beach or the lesser known (but still awe inspiring) Second Beach in Washington.

My hate aspect with respect to Port Hardy comes from three rather unfortunate incidents I experienced in that neck of the woods:

1) The time I didn't want a doughnut:
On my first ever attempt to get to San Jo, I took a rental car. It's probably against rental car policy to batter a hired vehicle on the 68 km (42 miles) of notoriously rough forest service road between Port Hardy and San Jo but since I would be tenting the beach I didn't need to lug my camperized F-150 all the way from Victoria to Cape Scott Provincial Park, a one way distance of 570 km (354 miles). I had rented an SUV and figured it would be able to make it. I was wrong. After driving for a good chunk of the day (it's a big island!) I blew a tire just 8 km (5 miles) from the park! The last cell service was in Port Hardy some 90 minutes back. I should have just proceeded with my plans and spent the weekend but I was worried about pressing on any further with the rental car limping along on the doughnut tire and now no spare. It also happened to be a national holiday and no tire shops/garages were open, particularly in Port Hardy. So, unfortunately, I ended up driving home the entire length of Vancouver Island at a speed of no more than 70 kph (42 mph) because of the speed rating on the temporary spare tire. A fundamental goal on any road trip is to keep the shiny side up and as infuriating as it was to have to drive that slow, the last thing I wanted was for that sad excuse for a tire to blow and the rental car ending up on its roof in the ditch. I didn't get home until after midnight. It wasn't a good introduction to Port Hardy and beyond.

2) "Giving" to the homeless
On the second trip (and only other time that I have gone to Cape Scott) I took my F-150 and its heavy duty tires had no problem with the road past Port Hardy. After navigating that road, I got to the trailhead to pack my my knapsack for the hike to San Jo, I noticed that my cookset, frying pan, camping burner, lighter and water filter were all missing from my camping bin! I was baffled as they were there when I left Victoria. So much for being able to cook on this camping trip but given the blown tire fiasco of the last attempt, I decided nothing was going to stop me this time. Having no fire nor cookware meant I had to subsist over the weekend on a limited and bland supply of dry goods. Nothing says envy more than eating cold beans out of a can while watching others cook up fabulous meals on the beach - or worse, them having hot coffee in the morning. So what happened to my gear? On my way up, I had stopped for an impromptu sandwich picnic at a park in Port Hardy. That involved me placing one of my camping bins on the tailgate of my truck and foolishly sitting at a picnic table out of sight of the bin. In that short time a homeless guy had pillaged my stuff and put the lid back on the bin. I know this because there is a homeless shelter across the street from the park. I asked if they had a security camera and they did, so I asked them to look at the footage from when I was parked there. They did and laughed as they informed me, oh yeah, it's Frank. We can see him taking your stuff. According to them, Frank likes to swipe people's belongings and bury the haul in the forest, lol. Despite the video proof, they said Frank doesn't vocalize much more than grunts and finding where he buried the stuff would be a drawn out (if even possible) endeavor. I had to get back home and I elected not to spend my time filing a report with Port Hardy RCMP. I can replace the stuff and it is my hope that instead of burial, Frank is actually using the gear in the forest and has become one of the better equipped vagrants in the woods.

3) Bear-ly Survived
On that same trip, I also decided to explore another part of the park, namely the lighthouse at Cape Scott. It's a 24 km (15 mile) hike from my truck to the lighthouse, so definitely an overnight situation. I got back to my truck from San Jo, restocked and set out to the lighthouse. I made it no problem. I explored the lighthouse and then hiked back a couple of km and camped for the night. The next morning, the weather was dry and mild, perfect for the long trek back. I thought finally things are looking up on this locale that, for me, has been jinxed. Little did I know what the day held! On the seven hour hike back to my truck I had not one, not two, not four, but three () bear encounters! I'm no stranger to bears. In the north of my old home province of Saskatchewan, I have seen many a black bear. In fact one time, I had one approach my truck (luckily I had managed to get back inside the F-150) just as the bear reared onto its hind legs and placed its paws on the roof of my truck. Seeing a big male black bear's fuzzy tummy pressed against my driver's window is a sight I will never forget. And I have seen several grizzlies in the Rockies and certainly every time that I've visited Glacier National Park. So on this hiking morning in Cape Scott I was well aware of the possibility of a sighting. Sightings are one things but when proximity makes it an encounter, it is quite another experience. I was only about an hour into the Cape Scott hike when I came around a blind corner and standing right there on the trail was a female black bear. She was no more than 20 ft from me and her fur was glistening. My first thought was, boy she is healthy, she must eat well! My second thought was, where are the cubs? My third thought was I hope I have clean underwear in my truck, lol. I calmly pulled out my bear spray and we had a staring contest that seemed to last forever. In reality it was probably only about five seconds but my life definitely flashed before my eyes in that moment. She calmly turned to her left and walked into the woods. I gave it a few minutes and then passed by the point, forever grateful for being spared. No cubs, just fresh berry-laden scat on the trail to step around. About two hours down the trail I took a detour to a beautiful lake for a swim - and to be honest for a cleansing after being in the woods for so many days. The trail to the lake was short but grown in. I was sitting on the beach rummaging through my pack to get my swim trunks when I heard the unmistakable crunch of twigs and vegetation as something way heavier than a human was lumbering its way toward me. I could see the bushes rustling as it advanced. I had nowhere to run and I certainly can't outswim a bear so I just began shouting, Hey Bear, Hey Bear! over and over again in an increasingly louder voice. Much to my relief the bushes stopped rustling and then began doing so in the opposite direction as she retreated. I say she because I assume it was the same female black bear but I have no proof as there was never any visual through the thick undergrowth. For the second time that day I was happy to be alive. I was exasperated but went for a quick swim and then got back on the trail, again to see more fresh scat. 45 minutes from my truck I saw her again. This time she was about thirty feet off the trail to the right. She put her paw on a stump and I got the feeling from that gesture that she was saying this is her territory but that she knew that the parking lot was ahead and that she would let me pass. And pass I did. She stayed put as I did so. I have never been so happy to get back to my truck!

So those are my memories of Port Hardy and area. They are visceral enough that when you mentioned Port Hardy by name, I had to share with you what those two words mean to me - and why I was in no rush to make my inaugural Bronco trip be to that northern outpost.

 

[C6ZZGT]

I didn't hit Port Hardy on this trip principally because it is the far north end of the Island and I live in the south but I also have a love-hate relationship with that place. Let me explain.

The love of course comes from the fact that Port Hardy is the gateway to San Josef Bay, one of the most beautiful and highly rated beaches in the world. I actually prefer San Jo to Tofino mainly because it isn't as overrun with tourists. It's a fine-grained sand beach which, as I'm sure you're aware, is uncharacteristic of the PNW but the real draw for me is the amazing sea stacks that line the bay. Until I discovered San Jo for my sea stack fix, I would venture to beautiful iconic spots like Oregon's Cannon Beach or the lesser known (but still awe inspiring) Second Beach in Washington.

My hate aspect with respect to Port Hardy comes from three rather unfortunate incidents I experienced in that neck of the woods:

1) The time I didn't want a doughnut:
On my first ever attempt to get to San Jo, I took a rental car. It's probably against rental car policy to batter a hired vehicle on the 68 km (42 miles) of notoriously rough forest service road between Port Hardy and San Jo but since I would be tenting the beach I didn't need to lug my camperized F-150 all the way from Victoria to Cape Scott Provincial Park, a one way distance of 570 km (354 miles). I had rented an SUV and figured it would be able to make it. I was wrong. After driving for a good chunk of the day (it's a big island!) I blew a tire just 8 km (5 miles) from the park! The last cell service was in Port Hardy some 90 minutes back. I should have just proceeded with my plans and spent the weekend but I was worried about pressing on any further with the rental car limping along on the doughnut tire and now no spare. It also happened to be a national holiday and no tire shops/garages were open, particularly in Port Hardy. So, unfortunately, I ended up driving home the entire length of Vancouver Island at a speed of no more than 70 kph (42 mph) because of the speed rating on the temporary spare tire. A fundamental goal on any road trip is to keep the shiny side up and as infuriating as it was to have to drive that slow, the last thing I wanted was for that sad excuse for a tire to blow and the rental car ending up on its roof in the ditch. I didn't get home until after midnight. It wasn't a good introduction to Port Hardy and beyond.

2) "Giving" to the homeless
On the second trip (and only other time that I have gone to Cape Scott) I took my F-150 and its heavy duty tires had no problem with the road past Port Hardy. After navigating that road, I got to the trailhead to pack my my knapsack for the hike to San Jo, I noticed that my cookset, frying pan, camping burner, lighter and water filter were all missing from my camping bin! I was baffled as they were there when I left Victoria. So much for being able to cook on this camping trip but given the blown tire fiasco of the last attempt, I decided nothing was going to stop me this time. Having no fire nor cookware meant I had to subsist over the weekend on a limited and bland supply of dry goods. Nothing says envy more than eating cold beans out of a can while watching others cook up fabulous meals on the beach - or worse, them having hot coffee in the morning. So what happened to my gear? On my way up, I had stopped for an impromptu sandwich picnic at a park in Port Hardy. That involved me placing one of my camping bins on the tailgate of my truck and foolishly sitting at a picnic table out of sight of the bin. In that short time a homeless guy had pillaged my stuff and put the lid back on the bin. I know this because there is a homeless shelter across the street from the park. I asked if they had a security camera and they did, so I asked them to look at the footage from when I was parked there. They did and laughed as they informed me, oh yeah, it's Frank. We can see him taking your stuff. According to them, Frank likes to swipe people's belongings and bury the haul in the forest, lol. Despite the video proof, they said Frank doesn't vocalize much more than grunts and finding where he buried the stuff would be a drawn out (if even possible) endeavor. I had to get back home and I elected not to spend my time filing a report with Port Hardy RCMP. I can replace the stuff and it is my hope that instead of burial, Frank is actually using the gear in the forest and has become one of the better equipped vagrants in the woods.

3) Bear-ly Survived
On that same trip, I also decided to explore another part of the park, namely the lighthouse at Cape Scott. It's a 24 km (15 mile) hike from my truck to the lighthouse, so definitely an overnight situation. I got back to my truck from San Jo, restocked and set out to the lighthouse. I made it no problem. I explored the lighthouse and then hiked back a couple of km and camped for the night. The next morning, the weather was dry and mild, perfect for the long trek back. I thought finally things are looking up on this locale that, for me, has been jinxed. Little did I know what the day held! On the seven hour hike back to my truck I had not one, not two, not four, but three () bear encounters! I'm no stranger to bears. In the north of my old home province of Saskatchewan, I have seen many a black bear. In fact one time, I had one approach my truck (luckily I had managed to get back inside the F-150) just as the bear reared onto its hind legs and placed its paws on the roof of my truck. Seeing a big male black bear's fuzzy tummy pressed against my driver's window is a sight I will never forget. And I have seen several grizzlies in the Rockies and certainly every time that I've visited Glacier National Park. So on this hiking morning in Cape Scott I was well aware of the possibility of a sighting. Sightings are one things but when proximity makes it an encounter, it is quite another experience. I was only about an hour into the Cape Scott hike when I came around a blind corner and standing right there on the trail was a female black bear. She was no more than 20 ft from me and her fur was glistening. My first thought was, boy she is healthy, she must eat well! My second thought was, where are the cubs? My third thought was I hope I have clean underwear in my truck, lol. I calmly pulled out my bear spray and we had a staring contest that seemed to last forever. In reality it was probably only about five seconds but my life definitely flashed before my eyes in that moment. She calmly turned to her left and walked into the woods. I gave it a few minutes and then passed by the point, forever grateful for being spared. No cubs, just fresh berry-laden scat on the trail to step around. About two hours down the trail I took a detour to a beautiful lake for a swim - and to be honest for a cleansing after being in the woods for so many days. The trail to the lake was short but grown in. I was sitting on the beach rummaging through my pack to get my swim trunks when I heard the unmistakable crunch of twigs and vegetation as something way heavier than a human was lumbering its way toward me. I could see the bushes rustling as it advanced. I had nowhere to run and I certainly can't outswim a bear so I just began shouting, Hey Bear, Hey Bear! over and over again in an increasingly louder voice. Much to my relief the bushes stopped rustling and then began doing so in the opposite direction as she retreated. I say she because I assume it was the same female black bear but I have no proof as there was never any visual through the thick undergrowth. For the second time that day I was happy to be alive. I was exasperated but went for a quick swim and then got back on the trail, again to see more fresh scat. 45 minutes from my truck I saw her again. This time she was about thirty feet off the trail to the right. She put her paw on a stump and I got the feeling from that gesture that she was saying this is her territory but that she knew that the parking lot was ahead and that she would let me pass. And pass I did. She stayed put as I did so. I have never been so happy to get back to my truck!

So those are my memories of Port Hardy and area. They are visceral enough that when you mentioned Port Hardy by name, I had to share with you what those two words mean to me - and why I was in no rush to make my inaugural Bronco trip be to that northern outpost.

I never had stories like that when I lived there ! No such thing as cell coverage anywhere near Port Hardy in the early 90`s though. Only had to dodge logging trucks.

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