[This essay was written in February 2020]
Ten days ago, I would have said I’m unsure of my decision to leave the Okanagan Valley for an 18- to 24-month work project on Vancouver Island. I was comfortable in my 380-square-foot condo in the heart of Penticton. Following three years of full-time travel, I had only really settled in Penticton for 15 months before this Vancouver Island opportunity presented itself, and in that time I had become a member of a tribe of eclectic locals and newcomers to the Valley. I had hiking friends, work friends, coffee friends, and bridge friends. Why would I want to leave that after having been without a stable community for three years?
But now I’m on Vancouver Island and I can feel the adventure pulsing in my veins. I have slept poorly these last ten days, waking up regularly in the night, full of enthusiasm for exploration, with an undercurrent of intensity I can barely suppress. In those late hours, I read books I’ve grabbed from the library about the history of the landscape and culture of the Island. I feel like I can’t read fast enough; I want to absorb all that is Vancouver Island.
I must work, it’s true. That is why I’m here after all. But I waste precious few moments of daylight outside of work in order to maximize my time exploring the wilderness and the little villages along the east coast of the Island. Every day, rain or shine, I don my hiking boots, grab my map and my hiking poles, and head to the trails. I’ve gotten carried away a couple of times staying out late, requiring my headlamp to find my way back to the trailhead.
Ah, but it’s been glorious. I’m living in a small apartment in the village of Chemainus, famous for being the Island’s first forestry centre, and now a tourist hub because of its 53 outdoor murals (I do love public art). My apartment is only 160 square feet, less than half the size of my tiny apartment back in the Okanagan Valley. This place even doubles as my temporary office. From my desk, I can reach the kettle in my kitchen, and it’s only one long stride into the bathroom. It’s perfect!
Vancouver Island is named after Captain George Vancouver, who claimed it for the British monarch while exploring the northwest coast of America between 1792 and 1794. The Island is huge, being the largest west-coast island in all of the Americas. It’s six times larger than Prince Edward Island. And yet, it’s only the 11th largest island in Canada. It was formed from undersea lava flows 380 million years ago near the equator, migrating against the North American plate and eventually into its current position. It has an incredibly eye-catching landscape, resulting from millions of years of uplift, volcanism, sedimentation, granitic intrusion, folding, faulting, and glaciation.
Canada’s largest tree, a Western red cedar, is found here at Cheewhat Lake, and the world’s largest Douglas fir is at Red Creek, near Port Renfrew. The Island is also home to Canada’s tallest spruce, largest spruce, largest yellow-cedar, largest amabilis fir, largest shore pine, and largest seaside juniper. And the arbutus tree, Canada’s only broadleaf evergreen, delights me every time I see one along the trail because of its unique bark and colour.
I may have only been here for ten days, but I’ve already hiked numerous trails in the Cowichan Valley, most of which I learned about in Theo Dombrowski’s Popular Day Hikes 4: Vancouver Island – Mount Tzouhalem, Holland Creek, Maple Mountain, and Haslam Trail. Fellow hikers alerted me to other trails, which led me to the top of Mount Prevost, an impressive feature that towers over the valley, and Stoney Hill, a delightful 3.2-kilometer hike through an environmentally sensitive coastal bluff ecosystem, including older forest, terrestrial herbaceous, woodland, and wetland areas. I’ve even hiked about 40 kilometers of the Great Trail, rebranded from the original Trans-Canada Trail.
Just getting to the trailheads introduces me to some of the most interesting coastal villages. Today, for instance, when returning from Stoney Hill, I stopped at Maple Bay Marina, where people live on very modern-looking house boats, called Float Homes. I wandered around the rest of the marina, looking at the yachts, some in pristine shape and others so frail they might sink if you spit at them. I would never have considered it before, but now I’m fantasizing about living on a boat.
At the marina’s coffee shop, I chatted with a woman who had lived in Maple Bay her whole life and saw no reason why she needed to be anywhere else in the world. I wondered how my life might be different if I had committed myself to one place for a lifetime. While drinking my coffee, I noticed some local books on a rack, To feed my insatiable thirst for knowledge about Vancouver island, I picked up a number of guides: A Field Guide to Trees of the Pacific Northwest, by Phillipa Hudson, A Field Guide to the Identification of Pebbles – yes, pebbles – by Eileen Van deer Flier-Keller, Pacific Reef and Shore: A Photo Guide to Northwest Marine Life, by Rick M. Harbo, and the Vancouver Island Book of Everything by Peter Grant (which is where I learned about all the largest species of trees in Canada). I even picked up a copy of Stephen Ruttan’s book, Vancouver Island Scoundrels, Eccentrics and Originals, which, when I paid for it, the feisty clerk at the coffee shop held up and said, “I didn’t even know we sold this; I wonder if I’m in it.” We both laughed at the absurdity, but I noticed she quickly looked at the Table of Contents to be sure.
I’ve been experiencing cognitive dissonance. I just can’t believe how green everything is on the Island. The fields and forests are every shade of green, and on the trails, moss seems to cover everything. But for goodness sake, it’s winter in Canada! Today, it was -28 C in Winnipeg. I realize that the east coast of Vancouver Island is a Mediterranean climate, but still: How the heck can I be hiking in +9 C through a green landscape in the heart of winter in Canada? I can’t seem to get my head around it. Lordy, I may never be able to move back to the mainland again.
I saw some deer today on the trail, the largest critters I’ve noticed since arriving here. Although I haven’t seen any yet, the Island is also home to black bears and cougars, of which hikers are frequently reminded by the numerous warning signs along the trails. In fact, North America’s most concentrated population of cougars is right here on Vancouver Island. I’ve only seen two cougars in my lifetime of hiking, one in the north Okanagan and one in the Canadian Rockies. Both times, I watched with reverence, my heart beating faster, my breathing rapid and shallow, as the natural born killers crossed my path. One cougar was so close when I startled it that it had already escaped half way up a rocky slope before my brain even registered it for what it was. In the one leap it took to cross the double-track trail, it could have just as easily jumped on me in the same distance. Had it done so, I would have been fighting for my life before my brain even knew what I was fighting. To observe a cougar in the wild is to be hypnotized by the aura of looming drama and unleashed violence. And when you are alone and close to one, unblinkingly staring it down as the professional adventures tell you to do, with only your hiking poles and your wits to protect you, you feel the savageness of survival boiling within you, and when the big cat finally turns and wanders back into the bush, you realize you’ve never felt so alive. By golly, I can’t wait to see another one.
I was curious about what other wildlife I might see on the Island, so I consulted Theo Dombrowski’s day-hike guidebook. He says that there are wolves and elk on the Island, but they are elusive. On the other hand, there are no “porcupines, coyotes, foxes, skunks, moose, wolverines, or any other potentially problematic animals.” However, I have already come across Vancouver Island’s worst animal threat to innocent hikers: unleashed domestic dogs.
My first impressions about Vancouver Island? I love this place. It is an oasis for the outdoor enthusiast. The people I have met have been friendly and open, willing to share their favourite hiking trails and personal stories, and are more community-minded than I have seen elsewhere. Maybe it’s that the islanders are physically separated from the rest of Canada that makes them so supportive of one another, but whatever the reason, it feels like one big family. I like that the First Nations culture permeates throughout the Island and is embraced in the communities; indeed, nearby Duncan, the traditional home of the Cowichan Tribes, is known as the City of Totems, with a collection of 44 totem poles, each depicting its own story and cultural beliefs. I chatted with a couple of young indigenous men in downtown Chemainus. They showed me the route to the beach and told me they were both finishing high school and heading to Vancouver Island University in the fall. They both love this land in which they live. Their enthusiasm for this Island is contagious. I’m glad I’m here, and glad for this grand adventure.