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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Beaches, Beauty & People 

Our trip to Parksville, British Columbia was more than a scenic escape—it was a journey filled with ocean breezes, golden sands, and the kind of human connections that turn a vacation into a cherished memory. Nestled on Vancouver Island’s eastern shore, Parksville is known for its sprawling beaches and relaxed vibe, but what truly made this adventure extraordinary were the experiences we had—and the incredible people we met along the way.

From the moment we arrived, Parksville greeted us with the salty scent of the Pacific and a horizon that seemed endless. Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park was our first stop—a vast stretch of sand that transforms dramatically with the tides. At low tide, the ocean retreats so far that the beach becomes a playground of tidal pools, driftwood, and shimmering sandbars. We wandered barefoot across the flats, feeling the cool sand beneath our feet and watching tiny crabs scuttle between pools.

As the day faded, the beach turned into a canvas of color. The sunset painted the sky in fiery oranges and soft pinks, mirrored perfectly on the calm waters. Families gathered for evening picnics, children chased the last waves, and we stood in awe, breathing in the serenity of the moment.

One of the most memorable parts of our trip was rolling up our sleeves and joining locals for clamming and oyster collecting along the tidal flats. With buckets in hand and boots sinking into the wet sand, we dug for clams as the tide receded, uncovering nature’s hidden treasures. The thrill of finding a perfect clam or spotting oysters nestled among rocks was pure joy.

Later, we cooked our fresh catch back at our campsite and wow, was it delicious! The clams steamed in white wine and garlic, releasing a briny aroma that mingled with the salty ocean air. The oysters, grilled with a squeeze of lemon, were smoky, tender, and bursting with flavor. Eating seafood we had gathered ourselves, with the waves as our backdrop, felt like the ultimate coastal experience.

Parksville isn’t just about beaches—it’s a gateway to lush forests and tranquil trails. We spent a morning hiking through Little Qualicum Falls, where cascading waterfalls tumbled through moss-covered rocks. The air was cool and earthy, filled with the scent of cedar and the sound of rushing water. Later, we visited Englishman River Falls, another hidden gem where the river carved deep canyons into the landscape. Standing on the bridge, watching the water thunder below, was a reminder of nature’s raw power.

Our adventure in Parksville was a perfect blend of natural beauty, outdoor fun, and human connection. It’s a place where the ocean meets the mountains, and strangers become friends. If you’re looking for a destination that feeds your soul and your appetite, Parksville is waiting

Nature, Community & New Friendships

Campbell River, British Columbia, is one of those places that captures your heart the moment you arrive. Known as the “Salmon Capital of the World,” it offers a perfect blend of rugged beauty, outdoor adventure, and warm hospitality. Our recent April trip was nothing short of magical—and not just because of the scenery, but because of the incredible people we met along the way.

Driving into Campbell River, the first thing that struck us was the stunning coastal views. The Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly, framed by snow-capped mountains in the distance. We set up camp at Salmon Point Resort, a peaceful spot right on the water, where the salty breeze and sound of waves instantly made us feel at home.

Our days were packed with adventure. April is prime time for Chinook Salmon, often called “Spring Salmon,” and we loved watching anglers reel in these powerful fish. In the rivers, locals were chasing Steelhead Trout, a true prize for any angler, while the Oyster River offered chances to spot early Sea-run Cutthroat Trout darting through the clear waters. Bald eagles soared overhead as we wandered through lush forest trails lined with towering cedars and moss-covered paths that led to hidden waterfalls. And every evening, we were treated to oceanfront sunsets—vivid pinks and oranges reflecting off the calm waters of the Strait of Georgia, creating the perfect backdrop for quiet moments of awe.

Travel is about more than places, it’s about people. And this trip reminded us of that in the best way possible. At Salmon Point, we met Judi & Tom, our camping neighbors who quickly became friends. You could not find nicer, more warm-hearted people. From sharing stories under the stars to a warm felt "morning" while we headed out to walk Bear on the beach with coffee in hand, they made our experience unforgettable. Their kindness and generosity turned a great trip into something truly special.

Campbell River captured our hearts with its breathtaking natural beauty, from ocean views and mountain backdrops to endless forest trails. The sense of adventure was everywhere, whether fishing for Chinook Salmon, Steelhead, and Cutthroat Trout, kayaking along the coast, or hiking through lush landscapes. But what truly made this trip unforgettable was the community. The locals, and especially fellow campers like Judi and Tom, welcomed us with warmth and kindness, making us feel like family in the heart of British Columbia.

This trip reminded us that the best adventures aren’t just about where you go, they’re about who you meet along the way. Campbell River gave us both: stunning landscapes and friendships we’ll cherish forever.

Discover the North

If you’re craving untouched wilderness, dramatic coastlines, and authentic small-town charm, Northern Vancouver Island is calling your name. This remote region of British Columbia offers a perfect blend of outdoor adventure and cultural experiences. Let's dive into three incredible destinations: Port Hardy, Port McNeill, and Port Alice—each with its own unique character and unforgettable activities.

Port Hardy, the northernmost community on Vancouver Island, is the perfect starting point for any North Island adventure. Known as the gateway to the Great Bear Rainforest, this charming town offers a mix of rugged beauty and rich Indigenous culture. Spend time hiking through lush rainforest trails in Cape Scott Provincial Park, where the iconic San Josef Bay awaits with its dramatic sea stacks and pristine beaches, a photographer’s dream. For history enthusiasts, don’t miss the hike from Bear Cove Park to the Dakota Memorial, a poignant tribute to the crew of a World War II aircraft that crashed in the area. The trail itself feels like stepping back in time—quiet, shaded by towering cedars and moss-draped branches, with the occasional glimpse of ocean through the trees. As we approached the memorial, the forest seemed to grow still, and the simple plaque surrounded by nature carried a weight of solemnity. Standing there, imagining the harsh conditions faced by those airmen decades ago, was humbling. It’s not just a hike; it’s a moment of reflection in the heart of the wilderness, blending history with the raw beauty of Vancouver Island.

Just a short drive south of Port Hardy, Port McNeill is the beating heart of marine adventure on Northern Vancouver Island. This picturesque town is world-famous for its whale watching opportunities, with the Johnstone Strait offering some of the best chances to see orcas, humpbacks, and dolphins in their natural habitat. Of course we did not see any while there, but it was still a lot of fun. Beyond the thrill of spotting whales, Port McNeill is a paradise for kayakers, paddle through calm, emerald waters surrounded by forested islands, or embark on a multi-day expedition for a true wilderness experience under the stars.

Tucked away on the serene shores of Neroutsos Inlet, Port Alice is a peaceful escape that feels like a secret paradise. Known as the “Gateway to the Wild West Coast,” this charming village offers breathtaking scenery and outdoor adventures for those seeking tranquility. Lace up your boots and explore the Marble River Trail, where cascading waterfalls and moss-covered trees create a magical rainforest setting. Fishing enthusiasts will love the chance to reel in salmon or halibut, while birdwatchers can spot bald eagles soaring overhead and herons along the shoreline. For photographers, Port Alice is pure gold, misty mornings, dramatic sunsets, and mirror-like waters make every shot spectacular. Dining options are limited, so stock up on supplies in Port McNeill or enjoy simple, hearty meals at local cafés for an authentic small-town experience.

Northern Vancouver Island offers something rare: true wilderness paired with warm hospitality. Whether you’re hiking through ancient forests, kayaking alongside whales, or savoring fresh seafood, this adventure will leave you with memories for a lifetime.

A Journey to the Edge of the World

If you’ve ever dreamed of escaping to a place where rugged wilderness meets pristine beaches, Cape Scott Provincial Park on Vancouver Island is that dream come true. Our adventure to San Josef Bay, tucked into the park’s southwestern corner, was nothing short of magical; a blend of raw coastal beauty, rich history, and unforgettable moments.

Getting to Cape Scott is an adventure in itself; a journey through some of Vancouver Island’s most remote terrain. After leaving Port Hardy, the pavement ends and the real challenge begins: a 70-kilometer stretch of gravel logging road that winds through dense forest and rugged hills. The drive is slow and deliberate, with loose gravel, potholes, and sharp turns demanding your attention. Dust clouds often hang in the air, so keep your windows closed and headlights on for visibility.

Along the way, you’ll encounter logging trucks and massive machines that dominate the road. Pull over and let them pass; they’re working, and safety comes first for everyone. There are no gas stations or services beyond Port Hardy, so make sure to fuel up and stock up on essentials before you leave town. The last community you’ll pass is Holberg, a tiny settlement with a quirky pub and a handful of locals who know the area well. Past Holberg, cell service disappears completely, so download offline maps and check tide charts before you go.

As the road narrows and the forest grows thicker, the sense of isolation deepens. Moss-draped trees arch overhead, and the air becomes damp and earthy, carrying the scent of cedar and salt. When the canopy finally opens and you spot the trailhead sign for San Josef Bay, it feels like crossing into another world; a wild, windswept frontier where the Pacific Ocean meets the edge of the continent.

The trail to San Josef Bay is a gentle 2.5-kilometer walk that feels like stepping into an enchanted forest. Perfect for families and first-time hikers, the path is wide and well-maintained, alternating between gravel sections and sturdy boardwalks that keep your feet dry in the wetter areas. As you begin, the towering Sitka spruce and Western red cedar create a natural cathedral overhead, their trunks wrapped in moss and ferns that thrive in the cool, damp air. The forest hums with life; listen for the distant call of ravens and the soft rustle of leaves as the coastal breeze filters through.

The scent of cedar and salt grows stronger as you move deeper into the temperate rainforest. Shafts of sunlight pierce the canopy, illuminating patches of emerald moss and tiny streams that trickle across the trail. It’s a serene, almost meditative walk, with benches along the way for those who want to pause and soak in the tranquility.

After about 45 minutes, the trees begin to thin, and suddenly the forest opens to reveal a breathtaking sight: San Josef Bay, a sweeping crescent of soft white sand framed by dramatic sea stacks rising from the surf like ancient sentinels. These natural sculptures, shaped by centuries of pounding waves, are topped with windswept greenery, giving them a bonsai-like appearance. At low tide, the adventure continues—wander across the exposed sand to explore two separate beaches, peer into tidal pools teeming with starfish and anemones, and venture into caves carved into the headland, their walls glistening with moisture and echoing with the sound of distant waves.

San Josef Bay is more than a destination—it’s a reward for every step you’ve taken through the forest, a place where wilderness meets the ocean in perfect harmony.

Cape Scott Provincial Park is a true wilderness, alive with creatures that remind you this is their home. The dense rainforest shelters black bears, wolves, and elusive cougars, so hikers must stay alert and practice proper wildlife safety. Always keep food secured and carry bear spray—these precautions aren’t optional here. The park’s isolation means encounters, while rare, can happen, and respecting these animals is key to preserving the balance of this ecosystem.

Beyond the forest, the ocean adds its own drama. From the beach, you might spot harbor seals bobbing in the surf or even the majestic sight of gray whales breaching in the distance during migration season. Overhead, bald eagles soar effortlessly, scanning the shoreline for fish, while ravens croak from the treetops. The forest hums with life—songbirds flit through the underbrush, and the rhythmic crash of waves mingles with the whisper of wind in the cedars. Every sound and movement reinforces the feeling that you’ve stepped into a world where nature reigns supreme. It’s wild, raw, and humbling; a place that demands respect and rewards those who tread lightly and leave no trace.

Walking these trails, it’s hard to imagine the human struggles that once unfolded here. In the late 1800s, Danish settlers arrived with dreams of farming and building a community on this remote coastline. They faced relentless rain, fierce storms, and isolation so profound that even basic supplies were a challenge to obtain. Despite their determination, the harsh environment proved unforgiving. After years of hardship, most abandoned their dream, leaving behind remnants of their efforts—overgrown wagon roads, collapsed homesteads, and rusting farm tools now swallowed by moss and time. These silent relics whisper stories of resilience and loss.

But the history of Cape Scott stretches far deeper. For thousands of years, the Kwakwaka’wakw peoples thrived along this coast, living in harmony with the land and sea. Seasonal villages dotted the shoreline, where families harvested salmon, gathered shellfish, and hunted marine mammals. The cultural significance of this area remains profound, and visitors are encouraged to honor that heritage by respecting the land and its stories. Today, as you walk through the rainforest and stand on the windswept beaches, you’re not just exploring a park—you’re stepping into a living tapestry of nature and history intertwined.

San Josef Bay isn’t just a destination; it’s an experience that lingers long after you leave. The moment you step onto its untouched sands, the world feels quieter, as if nature itself is inviting you to pause. Ahead, the iconic sea stacks rise from the surf like ancient guardians, their tops crowned with windswept greenery that looks like bonsai trees sculpted by time and tide. The Pacific stretches endlessly before you, its waves rolling in with a rhythm that speaks of centuries of change and resilience.

There’s a humbling power here; a sense that you’ve reached a place where the land and ocean meet in perfect harmony, untouched by the rush of modern life. The salty breeze carries whispers of history, and the vastness of the bay invites reflection. It’s a place that demands silence, rewards patience, and fills you with awe at the raw beauty of the natural world. Every step, every breath feels earned, and as you watch the sun dip behind the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you realize this isn’t just a hike; it’s a memory etched into your soul.

Huson Lake - Untamed Beauty

There’s something exhilarating about venturing into the unknown, where every step reveals a new secret of the wilderness. Our recent hike around the northern end of Huson Lake was one such adventure—a trek that led us to mysterious caves carved by the relentless flow of a stream, tucked away in the heart of nature’s masterpiece.

The northern end of Huson Lake is every hiker’s dream, but reaching it is an adventure in itself. To get there, you must conquer the rugged, unpredictable logging roads of Northern Vancouver Island, where some routes are little more than twin ruts carved through the wilderness. Once you arrive, the magic begins on the Little Huson Caves Trail, a hidden gem that winds through a cathedral of towering pines. Sunlight filters through the canopy, scattering golden patterns across the mossy forest floor. The air is crisp and alive, rich with the earthy scent of moss and the distant murmur of flowing water—a quiet promise of the wonders that await, including caves sculpted by centuries of rushing streams.

As we moved deeper into the woods, the sound of the stream grew louder, its melody guiding us like an unseen companion. The terrain shifted from soft soil to rugged rocks, and soon, the forest opened up to reveal the shimmering expanse of Huson Lake on one side and the stream carving its way through ancient stone on the other.

The real magic began when we followed the trail upstream. Its waters, clear and cold, had spent centuries shaping the land, carving out caves that felt like portals to another world. The entrance to the first cave was modest—a dark arch framed by moss-covered rocks—but stepping inside was like entering a cathedral built by nature.

Inside, the air was cool and damp, carrying the faint echo of dripping water. Sunlight streamed through cracks in the rock, illuminating walls etched with patterns that told stories of time and erosion. We marveled at the smooth curves and hollows, imagining the relentless patience of water sculpting these formations over millennia.

Further along, we discovered smaller caves, each with its own character—some narrow and winding, others opening into spacious chambers where the stream pooled quietly before continuing its journey. It was a world untouched, serene, and humbling.

One of the most unforgettable moments was sitting at the mouth of a cave, watching the stream tumble over rocks, its silver threads weaving through the green tapestry of the forest. The sound was soothing, a natural symphony that drowned out every thought except pure wonder. We felt connected to the earth, to time, to something far greater than ourselves.

This hike wasn’t just about reaching a destination; it was about embracing the journey, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the thrill of discovery, and the quiet awe of standing inside a cave carved by water’s gentle persistence. The northern end of Huson Lake is more than a scenic spot; it’s a testament to nature’s artistry and resilience.

If you ever find yourself near Huson Lake, take the trail south. Follow the stream. Let curiosity lead you into the caves. You’ll leave with more than photographs—you’ll carry the memory of a place where time moves slowly, and beauty is carved in stone.