20
Feb 15

Aboriginal Adventures Part 2: Nothing Is Wasted, Everything Used.

isabel3I’ve lived here my whole life.” says Isabel as she shows me how to carefully thread the tiny beads on to the wire needle. “You’ve never lived anywhere else?” “Never. I love it here. My front door, I’ve never locked it. Ever. I know everyone and everyone knows me. My mum is my neighbour. I see my dad every day. Any time I’m not working and I want to talk to someone, I just go outside.” I try and pick the beads onto the wire, I’m not deft as Isabel, my little beads flick off, ricocheting across the table. I apologise and she giggles. Isabel tells me about her sister who’s currently living in British Columbia for a short while on a work contract, her face changes as she talks of how much she misses her. “She’ll be back. I know, she’ll be back.Continue reading →


18
Feb 15

Chinese New Year in Richmond

richmond3The last time I can remember this scent in the air was in Sri Lanka; the smoky perfume of incense mixed with the sweet smell of flowers left as offerings to Buddha. But this time I’m not in Kandy’s Temple of the Tooth, there is no elephant tethered outside, no mischievous monkeys clambering the temple walls, nor gaudily-painted tuk tuks or King Coconut sellers ready to take your money. No, despite the incense and the gloriously golden glitz of the multi-armed Guan-Yin, I’m actually just a few miles from Vancouver in Richmond.

A short stop away from the Canada Line train, along the Highway to Heaven (the poetic name for No. 5 Road) you’ll find some 20 different places of worship: temples, mosques and churches co-exist peacefully together, side by side. Take a turn on to the Steveston Highway and you’ll find the most dazzling of all, the International Buddhist Temple, North America’s largest, modelled after China’s Forbidden City in Beijing and the start of my exploration into how to celebrate Chinese New Year in Canada. The festival is a big deal in Richmond, where some 60% of residents are Asian-Canadian, so before each Lunar New Year in February, the temple does a brisk business in the golden baubles and flowers trade, with the devout stopping by to purchase armfuls of each to take home and to give as gifts.   Continue reading →


08
Feb 15

High Above the Clouds, Fondue Dinner at the Sea to Sky Gondola

fondue2I was wrong about the weather.  As we set off from Vancouver along the twisting turns of the Sea to Sky highway, the rain lashed down, blocking our view of one of the most beautiful drives in the world. The tail end of the Pineapple Express, a west coast storm system that had dropped what felt like a river of rain over the city in a few short days, was putting a decidedly damp start on our trip to Squamish’s Sea to Sky Gondola. I’d been excited to see far out across Howe Sound as we made our way up the Stawamus Chief, Squamish’s famous granite domed mountain. And from seeing photos, knew that it would be a knock out view when we got up there. But the rain and clouds had put paid to that. Or so I thought. We rose gently in the gondola, coming what felt close enough to touch the wet rock of the Chief, then we were plunged into a dense mist, like being wrapped in cotton wool, as we floated upwards, unable to see a thing. But then we broke through the clouds, weak rays of sun piercing through the dappled shades of grey and oh, what a sight! fondue3Walking from the gondola towards the viewing platform was breathtaking. Cobwebby clouds hung below us with tantalising glimpses of the world peeking through. And we had it almost all to ourselves, the rain driving less hardy folk indoors. We crossed the gently swaying suspension bridge, its rails strung with fairy lights, over a gorgeously mossy green ravine and headed out into the forest along the Spirit Trail. New last summer, the Gondola has opened up vast tracts of hikes to people like me who’d never have made it up the Chief on their own. I loved the First Nations information points that dotted the area, explaining the turbulent history of post-European contact in the area, and many of the myths and legends of the Coast Salish people. fondue4It was beautiful up there, as we walked the trail, past glossy rocks, glowing orange red cedars and soaring pines. We looped back round and made our way past the fire pits, roaring in the evening breeze out on the viewing decks, into the welcoming wood fire-warmed Summit Lodge for the main event,  a fondue dinner. Toasting our evening with a glass of local Summerhill Cipes sparkling wine, we dove into a piled-high plates of salad, whooping over the crispy capers which spangled through the Caesar and crunching through the herbacious kale and fennel. I adore fondue and it was great to have a range of crisp veggies and pickles, as well as charcuterie to dip into the smooth blend of Gruyère and Emmental along with the traditional bread cubes. Never usually a big chocolate fan, I couldn’t get enough of the Belgian chocolate fondue that came as dessert, served with a pile of fresh fruit and doughnut-like cakelets: not too sweet, not too dark, this was the Goldilocks of chocolate fondues. fondue1The trip back down to base camp was deliciously spooky, the smooth slide of the Gondola back down the mountain in total darkness. More shadowy shades of charcoal came into focus as we got closer to the ground, the lights of nearby Squamish glowing in the night and the passing sudden flash of lights from cars on the highway. I was so wrong about the weather, yes, it may have been rainy and grey, but how gorgeous it was high up above the clouds. fondue5Fondue Dinners are scheduled for February 14th and March 7th.  I was a guest of the Sea to Sky Gondola, but as ever, my words are 100% my own. Further Information: Sea to Sky Gondola. 


02
Feb 15

Aboriginal Adventures Part 1: Travel to Manawan, Quebec

“Do you like to live so far away from everyone?”

“Yes. It’s nice to to be with the nature here, the city is too busy.”

mlmw4I don’t think I’ve ever known what it meant to travel somewhere truly isolated before. Spending time in Manawan, a First Nations reserve for the Atikamekw (pronounced ah-tick-a-mick) nation some five hours away from Montreal pushed my limits like no other trip has done. You can only get to Manawan via a gravel path from the small town of Saint-Michel-des-Saints, or in winter by speeding over the frozen lakes on a snowmobile.

There is no road. There is no transit. You are alone.

I close my eyes for a moment and lean against his back, my crash helmet bumping a little against his as we speed across the snow on his motoneige. We smell of wood smoke from the stove crackling away in his father’s hunting shack on the edge of the vast frozen lake. Every once in a while I catch a little of the scent of the moose that we fried and ate with boiled potatoes before we set out.

mlmw2Even though I’m wearing (count them) five layers under my Canada Goose parka, plus a cashmere scarf triple wrapped around my neck and bundled over my nose AND a fleece head mask and hat, the painfully icy wind still manages to find chinks in my armor. It hurts, first it’s sharply cold, then a slow, aching burn, but it’s impossible to adjust anything with my huge down-stuffed mittens so I resign myself to the pain and look out over the christmas card scene around us. The trees are heavy with snow and as we zip along the narrow trails I feel like I’m in Narnia.

mlmw3It turns out that I’m a rotten driver when it comes to snowmobiles, maybe with practice I’d be better but there was no time, so that’s why my Atikamekw guide, Daveen, is ferrying me along this afternoon. There are too many narrow forest trails along the way and a section that cuts along a break-neck drop. As we skimmed over it, I looked down and thanked my lucky stars that for once I acquiesced and went as a passenger, not driver. I couldn’t have done this.

This trip is teaching me that I have limits: I’m a soft Brit, used to soft warm beds and a soft, relatively smooth-edged life. It’s all rough, hard edges out here on the reserve in the hunting shack. Everything takes so much time and nothing comes easy. Take washing a pan for instance: we wanted to clean it, but first we had to fill it with snow and put it on the wood stove, then wait for the snow to melt –and wow, snow melts down to nothing, it’s all air and no water– and then clean it. That took almost an a hour. An hour to clean one pan. Life is hard here, every single little thing.

MLMW5Many of the usual conversational gambits that you’d have when you meet strangers are irrelevant here for the most part. What do you do for a living? Well, it’s likely that they don’t have a ‘job’ but they’re also likely engaged in working within the community, living on the land in the traditional way; hunting and fishing if they’re men and staying home if they’re women, sewing and beading elaborate regalia for dances and ceremonies. All my usual chat of ‘where d’you like to go’ and ‘what d’you like to do’ melts away into irrelevance too. For the most part, people stay here and well, that’s that. It’s all about family and friends and community. There’s one snack bar in Manawan. One grocery store. That’s pretty much it for places to go in our sense of the word, but again, here’s another difference, for the Atikamekw, the best place to go is on to the land, their beloved land, which supports them and which, in turn, they cherish and protect.

Image © Google Maps.

Image © Google Maps.

My trip was made possible thanks to the CTC, Tourisme Autochtone Quebec, Tourism Quebec and the kindness and hospitality of Gilles, Daveen and Carson Moar, however as always – my words are 100% my own. 

More Information:

Tourisme Autochtone Quebec  Tourism Quebec Canadian Tourism Commission.


31
Jan 15

Welcome to West Coast Paradise at the Wickaninnish Inn

MLwick002The water is wreathed in mist where the pale milky grey sky, smudged at the edges with darker storm clouds, meets the gunmetal grey of the ocean through a soaking Pacific Northwest drizzle. But the ocean is still, with barely a white horse breaking the surface of the waves. Wisps of mist hang softly over the vivid green firs which cling tenaciously to the sloping sides of the mossy islands which quietly reveal themselves on either side of the ferry as we cruise through the fog. The clouds hang low and long in this part of the world with the mountains peeking through. It was dark when I set off for Horseshoe Bay, the green and amber lights of the tankers out at English Bay reflected on the water. I drove through Stanley Park and across the Lion’s Gate bridge with its lights twinkling in the sleepy December dawn. Such early starts remind me of being a child, of being carried from my bed in the arms of my mum and tucked up in the back of my parents’ car. Lulled by the sound of the radio and the rhythmic trundle of the traffic I’d fall asleep, then wake, confused but excited: ‘Are we nearly there yet?” blinking sleepily and wondering when we’d be at the beach. MLwick001After we land at Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, I’m heading for another beach, far away down the long winding road which cuts through the Pacific Rim National Park and eventually leads to Tofino and the Wicknaninnish Inn. The wild beauty of the sea and land are reflected in every detail at the Inn: from glowing red cedar walls and old growth Douglas fir floors to the driftwood sculptures in the café. It’s a madly tactile place, you want to touch everything, to feel the smoothing effect of the time, wind and water, or feel the wave-like bumps in the wood made by craftsmen who stippled the wood by hand, using a traditional technique called adzing. You’re encouraged to head out no matter what the weather. Sure Tofino gets some 12 foot of rain each year, but there’s nothing more life-affirming than striding along the sand as the rain falls and the winds plays with your hair, feeling dry and happy wrapped up in the yellow rain slickers and boots which come with each room. Taken your own boots and they’ve got wet? No problem, use the boot-dryer in the cafe while you have just one more hot chocolate (and maybe that too-tempting cake) while they dry. Or perhaps a cedar-infused whisky sour at the bar of the Pointe as you watch the waves from the panorama windows which face out over Chesterman’s Beach. wick2 I sat outside the Ancient Cedars spa in a quiet alcove protected from the rain, warmly swathed in a robe and blanket with my feet soaking in a pebble-filled bowl of hot water and salts. My toes wriggled on the smooth stones as I sipped a fragrant cup of herbal tea and watched the clouds race across the grey sky as the rain and wind whipped the waves as they crashed on the rocks below. My treatment took place in a wooden treehouse, warm on a heated bed enjoying a skilled massage, I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature roaring outside and sighed with contentment. It’s a rare and delightful thing when somewhere doesn’t just meet your expectations but rolls ‘em up and knocks ‘em out of the park–and that’s the case with the Wick.wick1 Thanks to Tourism Vancouver Island, Tourism Tofino and the Wickaninnish Inn who hosted me. As ever – my words are 100% my own, I just absolutely adored it here, it’s wonderful.

More info:

Tourism Vancouver IslandTourism TofinoThe Wickaninnish Inn.


17
Jan 15

Storm Watching in Tofino at the Wickaninnish Inn

sw002The waves break first on the rocks that jut out to sea before crashing and flooding over the ones which lie directly below my window. The spray soars in the air–higher than my balcony– before falling back into the swirling white-foam waters. I snuggle up, swaddled in my Hudson’s Bay stripe woolen blanket and revel in that joyous feeling of watching a storm rage while I’m warm, dry and toasting myself by a roaring fire. sw005The floor to ceiling windows of the Wickaninnish Inn bring the raw chaotic beauty of the outside world to the cosy calm of indoors. This morning, before the sky darkened like a fresh bruise, I pulled on the bright yellow gum boots and rain jacket that were in my wardrobe and headed out to Chesterman’s Beach. There are curious sights to see here with the beach ringed by fir trees and red cedars: out to sea there are several small low-lying islands, bristling with trees which soar up, looking for all the world like greenly-mossy whales.  Rubber hose-like bull-whip kelp seaweed lines the beach with a frill of sandy-coloured sea foam whipped up on the wet sand like so many egg whites. I walk to the far end of the beach, feeling the wind get colder.

sw006The clouds scud past the weak December sun, flicking the day’s switch from light to shade and back again. I look back to the Inn and see the water lapping higher up the beach than when I first set off and I turn back at once, keenly aware that in a fight between the pounding waves and I, I would certainly lose.

sw004Back in my room, I do what storm watchers have done for generations: find myself the perfect spot that’s not too far from the fire and just close enough to the windows, and savour a mug of creamy hot chocolate. The waves have a rhythm, the water gushes into the inlet below hissing before it slaps the rocks and then sighing as it floods out again. Here in Tofino, in this picture-perfect slice of Pacific Northwest heaven at the end of a long and winding road, they get around 12 feet of rain each year. They are battered by hurricane force winds. And you couldn’t find a more contented set of people. Out in Tofino they know that there’s no such thing as bad weather– just the wrong clothes.  sw003Storm watching season at the Wickaninnish Inn is as popular for visitors as the idyllic days of summer. And I understand why. It’s mesmerising. At first, I try to capture the perfect wave, the arch of spray before it falls back into the sea. But after some hundreds or so snaps I finally put my camera down and just…watch. Each wave as it smashes against the shore smoothes away a paper-thin layer of stress. I’m glued to my window all afternoon, watching the waves and listening to the ocean’s music. By the time it’s dark I’m in a dreamy state of pure relaxation and I don’t close the widows for my whole stay: each night I go to sleep lulled by the hiss and crash of the waves, warmly wrapped up in a blanket-topped duvet, dreaming of capturing that perfect wave. Thanks to Tourism Vancouver Island, Tourism Tofino and the Wickaninnish Inn who hosted me. As ever – my words are 100% my own.

More info:

Tourism Vancouver Island, Tourism Tofino, The Wickaninnish Inn.


31
Dec 14

Challenge 12: Kayak with Belugas

Image via Jenafor Azure

Image via Jenafor Azure

They come dashing through the water, their shiny white bodies flashing in the sunlight, cutting a streak through the greeny-blue gentle waves. Beluga whales. One, two, a dozen, maybe more, swimming with their gunmetal grey new-born calves in the millpond stillness of the Hudson river at the mouth of Hudson Bay. This is Canada’s Great White North, Churchill in Manitoba, where this morning I saw a polar bear lumber past at the side of the road as we left the little airport. I don’t know it yet, but tomorrow I’ll see the Aurora Borealis shimmer for the first time. I’ll cry tears of joy and hold my friend’s hand tight as the sky pulses green and purple above us in the velvet-black of the night sky.

Image via Jenafor Azure

Image via Jenafor Azure

This feels like an enchanted place: far away from the modern world, impossible to reach by road, only accessible by train or plane, sketchy phone signal and scant internet. A refuge, in fact, and it’s here for a few weeks in the summer that you may be lucky enough to see a polar bear and her cubs as you stroll on the beach. And it’s also where you can strap on a life jacket, push a kayak into the water and paddle out to see belugas whales swim right up to you and playfully nudge your oars.

Image via Jenafor Azure

Image via Jenafor Azure

They’re mischievous, these whales. They want to play. I push myself hard, thrashing my paddle fast through the water, speeding across the shallow waves to try and catch a pod a little further out beyond the harbour. For a brief moment they join me, one on either side, rushing me along making me part of their pod for a few tantalizingly short seconds. I know already these are moments that I’ll run and re-run in my head for the rest of my life. Nothing to the belugas and everything to me. I laugh out loud, whooping with glee before my arms tire and I rest my paddle. But the best is still to come: two juveniles, seeing that I’ve stopped, race towards me at breakneck speed, darting under my craft, creating a white water wake. I shriek like I’m on a roller-coaster and lift my paddle to ride the beluga-made wave. The sun begins to set and I paddle off into the gloriously gaudy peachy-pink sunset.

Magic hums in the air here: polar bears doze on beaches, haunting lights dance in the sky and glittering white whales wait to play with you in the rosy waves…

Image via Jenafor Azure

Image via Jenafor Azure

I stayed in Churchill as a guest of Tourism Manitoba and the Lazy Bear Lodge, but as ever my words are 100% my own. More info: . Lazy Bear Lodge [Official Site] . Travel Manitoba [Official Site] Images thanks to Jenafor Azure at Blue Sky Mush [Official site].


31
Dec 14

Challenge 11: Learn to surf

Learn to surf in Canada. In the wintertime. Oh boy…  surf3

Over on Vancouver Island if you make the trip down the narrow winding two lane road to Tofino you’ll discover Canada’s surf capital, which boasts 35km of  stunning sandy beaches ringed with pines and soaring firs plus reliable rolling waves. Winter is meant to bring some of the best surf so I planned to try and catch my first break here.

surf1I’d signed up with Surf Sisters three hours introduction to surfing.  The day starts with Surf School 101 where we learned the basics from Nicole, our good-natured surf coach: from not peeing in the wet suit (dude, manners!) to what type of board we’d be surfing on (a longboard–good for beginners and apparently a more ‘elegant’ surf style) and also the names of the parts of the board (it’s always good to know the name of what’s about to smack you in the face). We also learned surfing etiquette (one person per wave) and the difference between rips, waves and swells and how to spot a ‘green wave’ – the ones that we’d hopefully be riding.

surf5What no one mentioned though was one of the most complicated things about surfing is actually wriggling into the kit. Wetsuits are not easy to put on, but as I was to find out later, that’s nothing compared to taking them off. I seriously contemplated finding out the cost of taking a knife to it and cutting the thing off me. Take a friend and beg them to help you with this, as you will need a wetsuit to surf in Tofino where the water temperature ranges between 14-7 degrees Celsius– too cold to really enjoy suit-less. I was surprised– and very happy to discover –that the suit and gloves meant that I was actually toasty warm on a December day after spending almost 90 minutes in the water.

surf4Wading out into the water, clutching my board under my arm as the waves kept coming, I realised that surfing was going to be a lot more demanding than I’d imagined. First just getting out to a gap between the waves was tough, the board kept trying to escape my clutches and the sting of saltwater in my eyes made me gasp. Getting on the board and lying down was relatively simple, but going from that to standing? Impossible.

surf8Time after time, Nicole lined me up and gave me a good push off. I’d paddle, wriggle forward and try to jump up then tumble over. Once I got properly dragged underwater, my board got away from me and as the waves tossed and pounded me under I cradled my head with my hands, remembering Nicole’s warning that the most dangerous thing out there would be my own board hitting me. I took refuge in the shallows for a while, catching my breath and coughing up the last of the sea water from my lungs whir admiring the view.

surf7It turns out that surfing is yet another sport that I am simply no good at. However, thanks to the efforts of Nicole and beginner’s tenacious luck, I at least managed to stand up once on my board, before calling it quits and staggering off to do battle with my wetsuit in the carpark.  But as I fell off again and again, what kept me going was the thought of the traditional Tofino post-surf treat just a few minutes away at the Tacofino food truck. Heavenly fresh baja fish tacos. Piping hot. So, so good after surfing.

 

Thanks to my fellow students for so patiently letting me photograph them. Thank also to Surf Sisters and Tourism Tofino/Tourism Vancouver Island for hosting me. 

 

More info:

Tourism Vancouver Island  Surf Sisters  Tacofino


30
Dec 14

Challenge 10: Watch a hockey game

Canadians are obsessed with hockey in a way that makes even the British love of football seem like an idle fancy. I’ve tried my best to get interested but when it takes me around 10 minutes to spot the puck on-screen (it’s so small and moves too fast!) it’s hard to sustain an interest. However, recently I got to watch the Vancouver Canucks play live and I think I may have discovered the key to becoming interested. I LOVED watching it up close; the hiss and slither of the skate blades and that satisfying thwack and slap of a stick hitting at the puck. I’m not going to pretend for a second that I had a clue what was going on, but I did love it and I’d suggest a night at a game as a perfect way to see Canadians at their most Canadian.

IH1Ten things you probably need to know before you watch an ice hockey match: 

  1. It’s just ‘hockey’ not ‘ice hockey’.
  2. It’s a ‘game’ not a ‘match’.
  3. I’ve been told (by a man, through gritted teeth), that’s a ‘puck’ not a ‘ball-thing’.IH2
  4. The game starts with the national anthem, if it’s a USA/Canadian game there’ll be both. Charmingly, everyone stands and sings, rather than boos.
  5. Whenever pretty much anyone does anything on the ice (scores, falls over, gets sent off) a cheery burst of 80s rock anthems and pop tunes bellows from the sound system.
  6. It’s easy to pick a team, there are only seven Canadian teams in the NHL, I suspect this makes for fiercely passionate supporters. It’s not like so many UK cities where you have to choose which team to support – and potentially split family loyalties. IH3
  7. Fighting seems to be accepted. I’m told it’s not but hey, there was so much punching and pushing and shoving on the ice, it made football look squeaky-clean in comparison.
  8. They take a LOT of breaks: there are breaks to smooth down the ice with a Zamboni, breaks to seemingly get everyone on and off the ice (no idea why), breaks that are actually intervals. IH5
  9. If you’re lucky enough to watch the Canucks at the Rogers arena, thanks to some rather smart staffing, award-winning bartender Jay Jones is in charge and so it’s possible to drink a well-made cocktail, a BC wine or craft beer while you watch. On the food side, new chef Robert Bartley has introduced a programme of pleasingly-delicious stadium food from chunky ocean-fresh lobster rolls to house-smoked pulled pork sandwiches.
  10. My best advice? Get seats in the ‘club’ section, you can order food and drink to be bought to your seat here so you don’t miss a moment of the action. Failing that, make it dinner and a ‘show’ by booking a table at the Centre Ice Grill which has a great view from the top of the stadium.

Thank you so much to the Fairmont who treated me to a night at the hockey, special thanks to Nancie Hall who put up with me asking a thousand questions. Also thanks to Jay Jones for a delicious round of Vancouver cocktails. 

More info:

Rogers Arena

Canucks

Useful guide from The Guardian – a Beginner’s Guide to the NHL


18
Dec 14

Cathedral Grove, Vancouver Island.

tml3Tell someone in Vancouver that you’ve ‘Not been to Tofino yet’ and it’s likely they’ll react with the kind of horror that’s usually reserved for statements like ‘My house just burned down.’ But finally, I have made it to Tofino. And yes, now I totally understand their consternation. There, just a few hours away, a short ferry ride from the mainland to Vancouver Island at the end of a long, narrow and winding road is a piece of pure Pacific Northwest heaven.

TML5On the way to Tofino from Nanaimo is Cathedral Grove where some of the trees are more than 800 years old and it’s a rare chance to see what I imagine most of the island was like before the Europeans came and started logging and mass de-forestation in the mid-1800s: soaring ancient Douglas firs, glowing orange arbutus trees, red cedars. It was raining heavily when I visited. Wisps of cloud draped over the mountains, the sprigged leaves of the fir trees dripped water and the ferns shone glossy green. I set off along the boardwalk to find the oldest tree and after a few minutes bumped into the fellow I’d exchanged hellos with at the map on the side of the road. He’d not found the tree yet either, so we doubled back and carried on around the other side of the circular forest walk.

TML4His name was Rory and he was a geologist, we strolled along companionably together and I (half-joking) asked, “Are you one of the good guy geologists or the bad ones?” He looked at me and smiled. “Do you like your camera? Your boots? They all came from something that was mined. If it didn’t grow then it was mined.” I’d watched logging trucks speed down the road on my way to the forest and it had felt like watching an abattoir truck roll past a petting zoo. Here were these precious rare trees. And here we were, hacking them down faster than they could possibly grow back. But yes, I do like my camera and my boots. And I was in the mood to listen and learn, so we talked as we walked.

TML2 I took a photo of a red cedar, delighted by its vivid colour. “They hold humidity really well,” explained Rory. “That’s why saunas are built from it.” I leaned in and inhaled, it did have that sauna smell and yes, I love a good sauna. We talked about logging and the necessity of a sustainable approach to harvesting the earth’s resources. He was pragmatic: people need to build things and to make things and that means that some trees will fall. I had to admit that he was right. Much as I want to rail against any assault on the natural world, people DO need to build and make things. It’s how we do that and how we protect what we have for the next generation that counts, I guess.

tml1We realised at this point that we’d done a whole loop and still not seen the biggest oldest tree. We headed back to the roadside to check the map again. Aha, we were on the wrong side of the road. There’s a particular kind of Canadian reticence about this. I suspect that had this tree been in an American park, there would be more than one ‘This Way To The Big Tree’ sign. There’s barely even a roadside marker for Cathedral Grove and what signage there is, is frankly baffling and needlessly complicated. I could believe that I might get lost but this geologist was utterly perplexed too. But, I suppose that along with the excellent signage in an American park there would probably have been a McDonalds and a gift shop too, so as ever, I’ll take the Canadian way, please. Rory and I stomped through the pelting rain and finally found it, all 76 meters of the soaring bigger-than-the-Tower-of-Pisa Big Tree. Totally worth the trek in the downpour and truly humbling in its size and age, an ancient reminder to protect what we have and find sustainable ways to build and make things.

More info:

Get there: BC Ferries

Stay there: Wickanninnish Inn

Find out moreCathedral Grove   Tourism Vancouver Island

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