I travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape me

  Hidden Wonders

The first steps of our journey began at Salish Seaside RV Resort & Marina, our home for the next few weeks. The late morning air carried a comforting warmth, rich with the salty scent of the ocean. Gentle waves lapped against the shoreline and the docked boats, their rhythmic motion blending with the distant calls of seabirds overhead.

--

With each stride along the waterfront, the city of Victoria came to life before us. The path wove alongside the shoreline, offering uninterrupted views of the expansive bay, where kayakers sliced through the glassy waters and seabirds glided effortlessly overhead. The deeper we walked into the heartbeat of the city, the more energy we felt.

--

Our anticipation grew as the silhouette of Victoria’s Inner Harbour came into view, its lively waterfront bustling with movement—ferries docking, street performers captivating passersby, and tourists marveling at the grand Parliament Buildings standing proudly against the backdrop of the sky. The salty breeze carried the aroma of fresh seafood, coffee, and the thrill of exploration.

--

It was the perfect start as our adventure was just beginning here on Vancouver Island.

--

The sun blazed overhead as we hit the streets of Victoria, charged with a thrill that only comes with the start of an epic journey. The ocean breeze carried a cocktail of scents—salt, fresh pastries, and the unmistakable fragrance of adventure.

--

The Inner Harbour greeted us like an old friend, shimmering under the late morning sky, its waters reflecting the towering Parliament Buildings in a dazzling dance. The boats bobbed eagerly, as if they too were ready to embark on something great. Seagulls swooped low, their calls echoing between the heritage buildings, like mischievous scouts announcing our arrival.

--

Then came our first stop—a necessary fuel-up for the day ahead. The Finest At Sea Seafood Market & Food Truck called to us like a beacon of coastal flavor, and we couldn’t resist. The fish & chips? Absolute perfection. The golden, crispy batter cracked at the first bite, revealing tender, flaky fish that melted in our mouths. Paired with the seaside breeze and the bustling energy of Victoria, it was the kind of meal that set the tone for an incredible day.

--

Recharged, we wandered into Chinatown, where history pulsed through the narrow alleyways and vibrant storefronts. The red and gold lanterns swayed gently overhead, their glow adding warmth to the intricate architecture surrounding us. As we stepped through Fan Tan Alley, the walls seemed to whisper stories of the past—once home to gambling dens, opium parlors, and secret passageways, now transformed into a thriving stretch of boutiques, art galleries, and hidden gems waiting to be discovered.

--

The scent of fresh dumplings and sizzling woks lingered in the air, tempting us at every turn. We paused to admire the intricate details of the Gate of Harmonious Interest, its grand entrance standing as a testament to the resilience and rich heritage of the Chinese community.

--

After immersing ourselves in the vibrant atmosphere, we craved another boost before continuing on our way. That’s where the Waterfront Starbucks beckoned, its doors swinging open like a warm embrace. The rich scent of espresso enveloped us, wrapping us in its comforting, familiar haze. Our oat lattes were smooth yet bold—a perfect harmony of warmth and invigoration.

--

Standing at the edge of the harbor, we sipped slowly, watching the world pulse around us. The water shimmered, boats rocked gently, and conversations drifted like the breeze. It was a quiet yet electrifying moment—a pause, a breath—before setting off on the long but gratifying stroll along the waterfront back to our trailer

  Chasing the Wild

The morning hummed with energy as we set out from Salish Seaside RV Resort & Marina, the road stretching ahead like a winding invitation into the untamed beauty of Sooke. Sunlight streamed through towering firs and cedars, casting flickering shadows on the pavement as we drove, the scent of damp earth mingling with the crisp ocean breeze drifting inland.

--

Before long, the landscape opened up, revealing the rugged shoreline of Becher Bay. The bay pulsed with life—kayakers sliced through its glassy waters, their paddles sending ripples across the surface. Seals bobbed playfully in the shallows, their dark eyes watching curiously as we followed the path along the edge of the cove. The air was thick with salt, the distant cry of gulls blending with the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the rocks.

--

Just as we were losing ourselves in the moment, hunger struck. We needed food—but options were scarce this far out in the wilderness. Then, as if fate had designed it, we stumbled upon Hide N Seek, a food truck tucked away in the middle of nowhere like a well-guarded secret waiting to be found.

--

From the moment we stepped up to the counter, we knew we had discovered something special. The owners greeted us with warm smiles and an enthusiasm that was contagious. Their passion for food, community, and adventure was woven into every word they spoke, sharing stories about their journey, how Hide N Seek had become a hidden gem for explorers like us.

--

And the food—absolute perfection. Freshly grilled meat layered with bold flavors, cooked veggies seasoned just right, all laid gently on top of steamed rice with just the right amount of homemade sauce. It was the perfect Poke Bowl in the perfect setting. As we sat beneath the towering trees, surrounded by the vastness of the wild, every bite felt like fuel for the adventure ahead.

--

Now that we were recharged and reinvigorated, we pushed onward toward Tower Point, the crown jewel of the day’s exploration. The trail began as a gentle climb, weaving through thick forests where the scent of pine hung heavy in the air. But soon, the terrain grew steeper, wilder—the kind of path that forced you to rely on instinct, each step heightening the anticipation of what lay ahead.

--

Then, we emerged at the summit, and the world unfolded before us in a breathtaking display of untamed beauty. A vast expanse of the Pacific stretched beyond the horizon, its surface shifting between deep blue and shimmering silver under the afternoon sun. Waves crashed against jagged outcroppings below, sending plumes of white spray into the air, a reminder of nature’s raw power.

--

The wind tore through the cliffs, whipping around us like an unspoken challenge. We stood there, arms wide, shouting into the roar of the ocean, feeling victorious—not just for reaching this destination, but for embracing the adventure fully, for saying yes to the unknown and discovering the more of Vancouver Island in every step, every bite, and every laugh along the way.

  A Battle Against the Wild

The air was electrifying—crisp, sharp, brimming with the scent of damp earth and pine as we stepped onto the winding trails of Goldstream Park. The towering evergreens loomed above us like ancient sentinels, their thick branches casting shifting patterns of gold and shadow against the moss-draped rocks. The ground beneath our boots was damp, the wilderness alive with movement—every rustling leaf, every distant cry of a raven felt like nature whispering, challenging us to go deeper.

--

We plunged forward, adrenaline humming in our veins. The trail was no gentle stroll—each step was a negotiation with the wild terrain. The creek gurgled beside us, its waters carving through stones that had seen centuries pass. Just as we found our rhythm, the path twisted and bucked—mud slick from recent rainfall, roots jutting out like tangled traps set by the forest itself.

--

Our breath fogged in the morning chill, but we didn’t falter. Small waterfalls emerged from the rockface, their silver ribbons slicing through the greenery, creating hypnotic illusions. A sudden, piercing cry broke through the air—the call of a bald eagle. We snapped our heads upward in time to see it slicing through the sky, a master of its domain. Below it, we remained mere travelers, tested by every step of this unrelenting terrain.

--

Then, the true challenge came—the climb to Niagara Falls of Goldstream. The slope sharpened mercilessly, rising before us like a beast waiting to be tamed. The roots that had once merely tangled now grasped at our ankles, demanding we prove our worth. Our breath came in jagged bursts, legs burning, the weight of exhaustion pressing hard. But we pushed forward, driven by something primal—a hunger for conquest, for triumph over the land.

--

The roar of the falls grew deafening. Every step was earned, every inch of progress pulled from the clutches of the earth itself. And then, suddenly—victory. We stumbled into the clearing, eyes lifting, lungs gasping in the mist-heavy air. The waterfall raged before us, a furious cascade of white, its mist wrapping around our skin like a baptism from nature itself. The ground vibrated from its force, the sheer power of untamed water crashing against stone in an eternal war.

--

We stood, breathless, conquerors in the heart of the wild, but Goldstream wasn’t finished with us yet.

--

Determined to push further, we hunted the path toward the abandoned railway trestle. The trees thickened, darkening, their gnarled limbs stretching overhead like fingers plotting against us. The terrain grew unpredictable—loose rocks, sudden drop-offs, twisting passages barely visible beneath the blanket of nature’s grip.

--

The wind picked up—a warning, or an invitation? The deeper we went, the more the forest seemed to breathe around us, watching, judging our every step. When at last we broke through, the trestle stood in solemn defiance—a skeleton of a forgotten era, stretching across the valley like a bridge between past and present.

--

We stepped forward, the aged wood groaning beneath our feet, the world opening up beneath us—an endless expanse of wilderness stretching to the horizon. Below, the river coiled like a serpent, weaving through the hills, its waters reflecting the sky like liquid silver. The wind roared, reminding us how small we were in the grand design of nature. But we didn’t step back—we stood tall, embracing the rush, the thrill, the sheer magnitude of everything around us.

--

As the golden hues of late afternoon sank into the treetops, our bodies bore the marks of battle—scrapes from jagged rock, mud streaked across our clothes, muscles screaming from exhaustion. Yet our spirits burned brighter than ever.

--

The descent was slow, the crunch of our footsteps softened, but we carried something that wasn’t there before—a victory, a tale written in sweat and struggle, etched into the very fabric of the earth.

--

Goldstream had tested us, challenged us, demanded we prove our worth, and we had answered.

  Whispers of the Wild

Morning arrived with an air of restless excitement, the kind that promised adventure at every turn. We set out on our journey, hearts pounding with anticipation, knowing that the day ahead would be filled with breathtaking beauty, wild encounters, and unforgettable moments.

--

Our journey began at The Butchart Gardens, a paradise that felt like stepping into a dream brought to life. The moment we crossed its gates, an explosion of color and fragrance enveloped us—tulips ignited the landscape in fiery hues, towering trees stretched toward the heavens, and delicate cherry blossoms fluttered through the air like a soft snowfall. The gentle murmur of hidden fountains echoed through the gardens, weaving a melody that guided us deeper into its embrace.

--

Then, like a secret waiting to be uncovered, the Sunken Garden revealed itself—a valley of mesmerizing beauty, where emerald slopes cascaded into pockets of wildflowers swaying in harmony with the breeze. We wandered through the maze of petals and leaves, each step carrying us into a sensory feast. The intoxicating fragrance of lavender and jasmine wrapped around us, heightening the thrill of discovery. There was magic in the small, hidden corners—the ivy-draped archways whispering of old-world charm, the secluded benches tucked beneath weeping willows, and the distant chatter of birds filling the air with life. We weren’t merely visitors. We were explorers, chasing wonder with every turn, losing ourselves in the masterpiece nature had woven here.

--

As the midday sun climbed higher, we set off for our next adventure—Brentwood Bay, where the vast expanse of ocean shimmered like liquid sapphire beneath golden rays. The water stretched endlessly before us, rippling gently with the whisper of the wind, daring us to venture into its depths. Along the shore, kayaks bobbed in rhythmic anticipation, their sleek forms poised like eager stallions waiting to charge into the unknown.

--

But first, we indulged in a well-earned feast at Seahorses Cafe, a charming waterfront gem nestled along the bay. The scent of freshly prepared seafood filled the air as we stepped inside, greeted warmly by the staff whose smiles were as inviting as the view. We settled onto the patio with Bear, where the ocean stretched before us, waves lapping gently against the dock. Our food arrived and was bursting with flavour, we were not disappointed. Every bite was a delight, made even better by the laughter and kindness of the team who made us feel right at home.

--

Once fueled up, we headed to John Dean Provincial Park, where adventure reached its pinnacle. The towering forest loomed ahead, a place where the wild lived and breathed, where time faded into the hush of rustling leaves and distant birdsong. We hiked deeper, the terrain rising, twisting, pulling us toward something unseen but undeniably calling. The scent of pine and damp earth wrapped around us as we climbed higher, pushing past fallen logs and tangled roots. And then—at last—the world unveiled itself. The view was staggering, the entire Saanich Peninsula sprawled before us, the ocean burning gold in the late afternoon sun, the sky a masterpiece of fire and shadow.

--

We stood at the edge of the world, the wind roaring past, carrying whispers of the journey that had brought us here. Hearts pounding, bodies alive with the pulse of adventure, we breathed in the wild, the beauty, the untamed spirit of it all. The gardens, the bay, the forest—they weren’t merely places. They were stories written in rustling leaves, in rolling waves, in towering trees, etched into the very fabric of nature itself.

--

And now, standing on this precipice, gazing at the golden horizon, we felt it—a deep, undeniable truth. This was why we had come. To chase wonder, to surrender ourselves to the rhythms of the earth, to touch the sky. And as the sun dipped lower, painting the world in hues of fire and shadow, with the echoes of our journey still humming in our souls, we knew—this day, this adventure, was nothing short of perfect.

  Ascending the Wild

The thrill of adventure crackled in the air as we set off, the golden morning light painting Saanich in hues of promise. Rolling farmland stretched in waves of green, forests whispered in the wind, and the salty tang of the ocean carried the scent of something wild, something waiting. This wasn’t just a journey—it was a call to something greater, something exhilarating.

--

We plunged into the heart of the region, winding through scenic country roads, past vineyards bursting with life, until we reached the towering majesty of Mount Douglas Park. Its rugged trails loomed before us, daring us to climb, to conquer, to chase the heights where the world revealed its secrets. The scent of cedar and damp earth wrapped around us as we stepped onto the path, each footfall building a rhythm, a pulse of excitement that matched the pounding of our hearts.

--

The trail twisted and climbed, sunlight spilling through the thick canopy in golden shafts, illuminating the way forward like a beacon. Each bend was a discovery—the rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, the trill of birds singing their untamed melodies, the sensation of pure wilderness wrapping itself around us. The further we climbed, the more the forest urged us onward, filling us with fire, with determination, with an unbreakable desire to see what lay beyond the next rise.

--

We paused at a rocky outcrop, gazing at the expanse that unfolded before us—the Saanich Peninsula stretching toward infinity, where golden fields met the endless blue of the Pacific. The city of Victoria lay beyond, its rooftops and harbors bathed in the soft glow of distant light, a reminder of the world below that now felt impossibly far away.

--

But we weren’t done yet. The summit beckoned, promising something even greater. Muscles burning, breath quickening, we surged forward, pushing past the last winding turn until suddenly—the trees gave way, and the world exploded into view. The ocean stretched wide and wild, fiery gold under the late afternoon sun, waves rolling toward the shore in rhythmic surrender. The mountains stood sentinel in the distance, their peaks softened by the haze of the sun.

--

We stood at the peak, the wind rushing past in a victorious howl, as if the very earth rejoiced in our triumph. This was why we had come to chase the thrill, to surrender ourselves to the untamed beauty, to ascend toward the heavens and touch something vast, something eternal. In that moment, with the world unfurling beneath us, we felt it—the pulse of adventure, the undeniable fire in our souls, the unshakable truth that we were exactly where we were meant to be.

Chasing the Wild Beauty

The sun unfurled its golden embrace over Nanaimo as we set off on our grand adventure, its warmth igniting a spark of exhilaration within us. With backpacks packed and spirits soaring, we stepped into the wild tapestry of Vancouver Island, eager to lose ourselves in its untamed beauty.

--

Our first stop was Ammonite Falls Regional Park, a sanctuary where towering trees stood like wise guardians, their gnarled roots weaving a pathway through time. As we ventured deeper, the forest spoke in hushed murmurs—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird, the rhythmic crunch of earth beneath our boots. Sunlight dripped through the canopy, illuminating moss-laden trunks like veins of gold threading the emerald-green expanse.

--

The trail challenged us, each twist and turn demanding strength and perseverance. Roots coiled across the path like ancient veins, steep slopes tested our resolve, but every arduous step brought us closer to the falls. And then, there it was—a breathtaking display of nature’s raw power. Water surged over the rocky precipice, an endless cascade carving its way through stone, its roar echoing through the canyon like a primal song. Mist rose in swirling tendrils, cooling our faces, clinging to our clothes. We stood in awe, transfixed by the sheer force, before reaching down, fingertips grazing the icy stream. In that moment, we felt connected to something greater, something timeless—the pulse of the land beneath us.

--

Leaving behind the echoes of the falls, we made our way to Sunset Beach, where the sea stretched to the horizon, meeting the sky in an endless embrace. The air was thick with salt, the rhythmic lull of the waves a soothing hymn. Seagulls soared above, their voices sharp and urgent, carried by the ocean breeze. We abandoned our shoes, letting the sand swallow our steps, warm grains slipping between our toes.

--

As the late afternoon sun stretched across the sky, casting a warm, amber glow, we pressed on to Neck Point Park, where jagged cliffs stood resolute against the restless sea, their rugged edges shaped by centuries of crashing waves and shifting tides. The park’s trails wound through dense woodland, each turn revealing a new wonder—ancient trees rustling like whispered secrets, their towering forms draped in emerald moss. Shafts of golden light spilled through the canopy, dancing across the forest floor, illuminating the winding path ahead with a quiet, ethereal beauty. 

--

At a rocky outcrop, we paused, captivated by the rhythmic dance of seals bobbing in the waves, their sleek forms slicing effortlessly through the water. They tumbled and played, their movements lighthearted and free, their joy so pure it stirred laughter from our lips. In that moment, we were reminded of life’s simplest pleasures—the exhilaration of movement, the thrill of existence, the quiet magic of simply being.

--

The wind shifted, carrying the briny tang of salt and the deep, earthy musk of damp soil. We inhaled deeply, savoring the raw purity of the moment, letting it settle in our bones. It was wild, untamed—just like the island itself, where nature reigned supreme, shaping time in its own steady, unhurried rhythm.

--

As we made our way back to Nanaimo, we veered off the familiar path, drawn to the quiet embrace of Joan Point Park—a hidden sanctuary untouched by time. Here, solitude was not just present but sovereign. Towering trees stood in solemn reverence, their moss-draped trunks whispering secrets of ancient days. The earth, soft and yielding, welcomed our weary steps, absorbing them into its quietude.

--

The gentle lap of water against stone formed a rhythmic lullaby, coaxing us into stillness. We paused, breathing in the crisp, earthy air, letting it seep into our bones, grounding us in the moment. Time did not merely slow—it dissolved. The island itself seemed to hold its breath, offering us this rare, fleeting gift: to exist fully, utterly, without the weight of past or future.

--

Nanaimo’s magic wasn’t confined to its natural wonders. As twilight descended, we wandered into the city’s heart, where the waterfront shimmered with golden reflections. The Harbourfront Walkway beckoned, its lively energy a contrast to the quiet serenity of the parks. We strolled past bustling cafés and artisan shops, the scent of fresh seafood mingling with the crisp ocean breeze. Musicians played along the promenade, their melodies weaving through the air, adding a soundtrack to the evening.

--

Then, the day was done, just like that. We retraced our steps, hearts full, spirits alight, we carried with us the memory of Nanaimo and its hidden treasures—a journey that had blended the wild and the urban, the untamed and the artistic, a reminder that adventure is found in every corner of the world.

  Adventure and Discovery

The salty breeze rushed past, swirling around us as we rolled off the ferry onto Gabriola Island, the thrill of adventure already tingling in the air. The morning sun danced across the waves, scattering golden ribbons of light that stretched toward the horizon, as if welcoming us to the island’s untamed beauty. Every ripple in the water, every whisper in the wind promised excitement, discovery, and unforgettable moments ahead, this was a day meant for exploration, and we were ready to embrace it.

--

Our first stop was Drumbeg Provincial Park, where nature flexes its power in full force. The coastline stretched before us, jagged cliffs standing like ancient guardians against the crashing waves. The arbutus trees, their bark peeling in shades of deep red and orange, swayed dramatically in the wind, twisting into shapes that looked more like sculptures than trees. Below, the rocky shores hosted a lively performance of seals lounging on exposed reefs, herons stalking their prey in tide pools, and the endless whisper of the sea, filling the air with its hypnotic song.

--

We walked along the bluffs, stopping every few steps to marvel at the Salish Sea, its endless expanse a deep blue canvas that stretched beyond the horizon. The view? Breathtaking. The energy? Undeniable. It was the kind of place where time stood still, where the ocean hummed a song that felt ancient, steady, and unshakable.

--

Eager for more, we hurried to Whalebone Beach, where the ocean had left its signature in every rock, tide pool, and sun-bleached log. We hopped across smooth, rounded stones, sculpted by countless waves, feeling the pulse of the tides beneath our feet.

--

In the shallows, tiny crabs scurried beneath the surface, disappearing in an instant. The water, impossibly clear, revealed delicate sea anemones, their soft tendrils waving lazily, as if welcoming us into their underwater kingdom. Driftwood, twisted into wild, intricate shapes, lay scattered across the beach, remnants of storms past. We traced patterns in the sand, watching as the waves reached forward, erased them, and invited us to create anew. Everywhere we looked, we found stories written by the sea, carved into stone, scattered across the sand and whispered in the waves.

--

Following a narrow, winding trail, we descended into Sandwell Provincial Park, a hidden gem tucked away behind towering evergreens. The moment we stepped onto the golden sand, it felt like we’d found a secret paradise. The beach stretched endlessly, bathed in sunlight that turned the water into pure liquid silver. 

--

Above us, bald eagles soared, their piercing cries echoing across the vast sky. The water shimmered with reflections, each ripple catching the light in a way that felt like magic. We let the waves chase us, their gentle touch cool against our skin, and stood still, simply absorbing the moment. Sandwell wasn’t just beautiful, it was alive, breathing with the tides, humming with the energy of the island. Standing there, we felt it too.

--

By midday, we arrived at Gabriola Sands Provincial Park, where the twin beaches stretched out like open arms. The sand was soft as silk, warming our feet with each step, and the water mirrored the sky’s brilliance, shifting between deep blues and shimmering silvers.

--

We nestled into the curve of a sun-warmed driftwood log, its smooth surface a perfect resting place as we let the island’s rhythm wash over us. The waves murmured in steady, hypnotic pulses, their cadence blending seamlessly with the soft cries of gulls overhead and the gentle sigh of the wind weaving through the trees. The air carried the earthy scent of cedar, mingling with the sharp tang of salt, wrapping around us like an old friend’s embrace. Here, time unraveled, no ticking clocks, no urgency, just the endless dance of nature, whispering its lullaby across the shore. In that moment, we belonged to the island.

--

Our last stop was Brickyard Beach, where history met the sea. Among the smooth stones, we found weathered bricks, remnants of Gabriola’s past. Each one was a piece of a forgotten puzzle, shaped by hands long gone, tumbled by tides that had softened their edges over decades.

--

We ran our fingers over their surfaces, tracing the rough lines, wondering about the stories they held. Who had placed them here? What homes had they once built? And how had the waves claimed them, scattering them across the beach like fragments of memory? It was surreal, a place where history lingered, where the past whispered softly through the rustling leaves, waiting to be heard.

--

As the day slipped into twilight, we made our way back to the ferry, our hearts still echoing with the island’s magic. Above us, the sky erupted into a breathtaking symphony of fiery reds, molten oranges, and deep, velvety purples, casting Gabriola in a glow only it could create. The world felt suspended in time, caught between day and night, adventure and farewell.

--

We stood together at the ferry’s railing, watching as Gabriola slowly dissolved into the horizon, its rugged shores and whispering forests fading into the embrace of the sea. The waves carried the final soft echoes of our day—laughter, discovery, and the quiet promise that we would return.