Poor me…for the second summer in a row, I didn’t get to go where I thought I wanted to go for my vacation.
Last year, COVID had me nix a trip to Peru. This year, we thought we could at least go Kootenay Lake. But, no, the Interior was on fire. We thought we’d camp around Baker Lake. But, no, the border was still closed.
Instead, yet again, we had a fantastic trip closer to home. It was enough to make me wonder what the heck I was thinking in the first place, travelling around the world or even across the province.
Yes, I know, it’s great to visit distant lands, and I plan to do just that one day, but in the meantime — wow, we live in a beautiful part of the world. Gazing across the Strait of Georgia at the mainland mountains was a clear reminder why we moved to the West Coast all those years ago.
I’ve been to Vancouver Island numerous times, but never north of Courtney-Comox. It’s quite a world up there. Rugged is the word that comes to mind — both the nature and the towns.
At the end of one hike around Telegraph Cove (just south of Port Hardy), we came to a rocky point where we sat for an hour watching sea lions, orcas and porpoises. When a trio of dolphins (actually Dall’s porpoises, I was told) came leaping in unison just metres from where we were sitting, I couldn’t help but tear up. Granted, I’m a bit soft that way, but, really, to see that in the wild it’s hard to keep a dry eye.
We were fortunate to be sitting with a woman who had worked as a kayak guide. She knew, for example, that they were Dall’s porpoises, and a lot of other things about marine life, including the fact the resident population of orcas is declining due, in part, to sea lice from fish farms, which is killing the wild salmon that the orcas feed on.
So, as lost in the woods as we were…actually, did I mention we really were lost in the woods at one point? Somehow we got off the trail and became completely turned around in the dense forest. I’m talking, crawling over massive old-growth logs, some suspended three maybe four feet above the forest floor, dense. It was a little unnerving, but GPS came to the rescue.
But I digress…as lost in the woods as we were, cut off from the nightly newscast, politics still has a way of encroaching. That was certainly evident when we hit the highway, which was lined with election signs.
The Island is a curious place politically. While Liberals and Conservatives jockey for position at the national level, in the southern part of the island the signs are all orange and green. In the north, the battle is between NDP and Conservative, with the NDP currently holding the seats.
At the town entrance of Port Alice there are historical photos of a once-thriving village showing a parade with big “Labor” floats. However, the only lawn sign I saw in town read, “Forestry feeds my family.”
Despite views of clear-cuts across the inlet and road signs warning of active logging, we saw a total of three logging trucks in the two weeks we were there. (Thanks goodness, as my dad’s clunky little VW van would have been blown off the road.)
Clearly, a lot of these towns have seen better days. At the entrance to Alert Bay there are photos from the 1970s of hundreds of fishing boats in the harbour. The blurb talks about wild times, with people dropping $1,000 in a night of partying. Today, the wildest thing you’ll find is a fascinating cemetary full of totem poles.
Frankly, that works for me. I like totem poles. I also like knowing the seas aren’t being plundered and forests aren’t being mowed down the way they were in the “heyday.” (I imagine the orcas appreciate it as well.) But what about those families that need feeding?
And there’s the rub — how to create good paying jobs that don’t trash the environment. Because, yes, I want to see orcas, and, yes, I want to see families thrive.
It shouldn’t and doesn’t need to be one or the other.
