A Whale of a Time on Majestic Vancouver Island

We hired a car from Downtown Vancouver and headed South through the pouring rain to the port of Tsawwassen. There we boarded a ferry to Victoria, the capital of BC and main city of Vancouver Island.

 

The route was beautiful. Across the Georgia Straight, with the mountains of Olympic National Park in the US just visible to the South, and then through the Gulf Islands. These islands are straight out of a tourist brochure for Canada. Forested hills climbing out the sea, with perfect little wooden houses and tiny marinas. As the large ferry snaked through the twists and turns of the passage, we ventured out into the cold wind to look for the resident Orca pod. While we had no luck with that venture, we did spot seals and many sea birds. 

 

We had a short stop in Victoria. While the port side city did not knock me back with beauty, it was charming in its way with some great almost Wild West style buildings and the impressive parliament. 

We then took the look road North and then West to our destination for the next 5 nights, Tofino. It was a wonderful drive. Back up along the Georgia Straight, offering views down to the forest fringed water, and then inland across the mountains. That was the best part. Absolutely stunning scenery past lakes and forested mountains dusted with snow at their summit. Past Port Alberni, it only got better and ever more remote. We counted 13 cars on a 100km stretch. This was the wild land of giant Douglas Furs, cougars, bears and wolves. 

As dusk fell, we drove straight past two white-tailed deer, before heading over a final mountain pass and then hitting the Pacific Ocean (not that we could see anything as it was now pitch dark) and finally into Tofino.

WHALES AND EAGLES

Tofino is a cool place. A combo of surf town, wildlife adventure hub and isolated Pacific fishing port. It sits at the end of a narrow peninsular, crashing Pacific surf on one side, idyllic forest strewn inlet on the other. In between it and the rest of Vancouver Island, lies the Pacific Rim National Park.

 Our days in town were immense. Barely had we arrived when we spotted one bald eagle and then another, swooping over head. We hurried to the shore to sea what was going on and found “Crazy Ron” throwing sushi scraps to be caught by five different bald eagles. He ushered us close and we got within meters of these intimidating creatures swooping down for a snack. I could not get over how big, beautiful and powerful they were.

Taking a whale tour, we ventured out into a rough ocean, spotting sea-otter and a couple of hundred Stella Sea Lions on small treeless island (larger cousins of the better known Californian variety that concentrate in northerly climes). Rocking back and forth with the waves, we got close enough to hear them. Again size was stand out factor hear. The largest males reaching comfortably over a ton.

 

Our guide was Tim. He is First Nations and grew up in a hamlet just across the bay from Tofino. His local knowledge and guidance was brilliant. Seeking calmer waters, we headed around and behind Vargas Island. Tim was searching the shores for wolves. We found a bald eagle, two more sea-otter and then… whales!

To be specific, two gray whales. These magnificent creatures migrate every year from the fish filled Arctic down to Baha California. The first we saw was the tell-tale puff of whales taking a breath. We slowly approached, getting closer and closer, until we could clearly make out the tops of their backs every time they popped up for air. The sight took my breath away.

 

We then spent a good half hour keeping position in the water a reasonable distance while the whales serially dived and came up in circles over and over again. Apparently they were feeding on the shallow bottom, opening their mouths sideways to scrape up all kinds of shell-fish and other edible matter.

 

It was a phenomenal experience and I was so happy that the kids and Christina (and I) got to see these peaceful giants. On the way back, we glided through the now calm waters of the inlet, catching another sea-otter and a whole myriad of sea birds.

FOREST, SURF AND BEARS

The next couple of days were sent exploring trails in and around Pacific Rim National Park. The quality and variety was fantastic. From beach to beach log-path trails through swamps, to high rise rainforest trails and wind-lashed cliff top ocean-viewing walks. 

We must have done at least 15km of hiking with the three small ones in tow. They were great sports, only rarely complaining and constantly excited (if occasionally concerned) by the prospect of the wolves, bears and cougars that live in the park. We were (un)lucky enough not to see any of these occasionally dangerous creatures on foot, but mention of there potential whereabouts proved a great incentive to the kids to keep going and stay close, as well scouring the paths for all sorts of prints in the mud. 

It is fair to say it also put Christina and I on higher alert than normal, looking at each other with every squeaking tree and making us shift pretty quickly when we came across a washed up sea-lion carcass being ripped up by ravens (the wolves had already had their share a couple of days before…). 

Alongside simply ridiculously beautiful ocean views across the wild beaches and rock crashing Pacific surf, the real stars of the show were the trees. This is a land of giants. In the old growth of the rainforest trail, we weaved in between massive 75m tall Douglas fir. Some of these trees were 900 years old and up to 9 meters around. The undergrowth was littered by rotting remains of their predecessors – their forest cycle from shrub to full decomposition being some 1500 years.
 

Buzzing and a bit tired from our travails, we finished up each day with a great meal at one of the cool little eateries that inhabit Tofino. My favourite was the Shed, a killer combo of laid back vibe, rock music, friendly people, tasty food and ice hockey. 

 

It happened to be my birthday while we were in town and I was lucky enough to be given a surfing lesson by my family. It was awesome. Surprisingly warm in an 8mm wetsuit I managed to catch a few decent waves and get bashed around by the Pacific, with the spectacular coast for backdrop. I was still grinning when we went back to the Shed to celebrate.

 

Awesome as the surfing was, its buzz was edged out by our final adventure from Tofino – bear watching! Stepping into compulsory bright red survival suits, we boarded a speed boat and raced away from the ocean into the myriad of channels, islands and inlets that lie behind Tofino. All mountain forests falling into calm green waters.

 

 Tim’ son was our guide and he gave us quite a thrill with speed and added loops making our eldest roar with laughter as his cheeks and hair flapped. After an hour we made it to Fortune Channel and slowed to a crawl in search of black bears. As we creeped, scouring the shoreline, our guide gave us great insight into bears and the wider environment. Initially there was slim pickings,  teaching my kids the smallest amount of patience in the hunt. After close to another hour we were in luck. Another boat had spotted a bear. We raced towards its location, before going back to a crawl so as to not disturb the animal.

 

As we approached I struggled to spot the bear. Then suddenly, I caught glimpse of the furry black ball. The bear was searching the shoreline for morsels uncovered by low tide. We approached to 50m, 30m and then she went. It was little more than a glimpse, but it was exhilarating. A black bear had just looked up at us and nonchantly walked into the trees.

 

Despite waiting around, she did not pop back out. Off in the hunt for more, we soon found another bear. A large male was calmly feeding on a wide open beach. Again, we approached slowly. On our own this time, our little boat crept up to no more than 20m from the bear. There we sat, quietly watching the bear get on with his business. We must have stayed for 20 minutes, enjoying one of the best experiences. God I love Tofino!

TO THE TRAIN

Sad to depart, we headed back towards Vancouver for the next stage of our adventure. A stop off for a short trail through Cathedral Grove – a remnant of old forest in the middle of the island that contains the largest trees I have ever seen and was the set for Ewok habitat – was the highlight of a day on the road getting home. 

The ferry journey was not too bad either. A clear day lit up the Georgia Straight, rimmed by snow capped mountain tops most of the way from the US to the grizzly frequented land to the North.

 

A night in Vancouver with a very special sunset and we awoke to the biggest land journey of our kids’ lives. A 24 hour train journey to the top of the Rockies. Bring it on!

Vancouver - Sea to Snow via an Underbelly

We arrived late on a Saturday night, a bit worse for wear from a flight from London via a 4 hour lay-over in Seattle. I was surprised the kids were still even half functioning after effectively the longest day of their lives (full 32 hour day with the time change). 

Through the tiredness I just about took in the remarkable view of Downtown Vancouver at night as we crossed Grenville bridge. A metal and glass forest of apartment blocks, lit-up and showing off the affluence of the city. 

Collapsing, we awoke to the prospect of half a month travelling around British Colombia and Alberta. From the Pacific, to the Rockies and beyond. Adventure beckoned!

First impressions and Stanley Park 

Waking early with the jet-lag, we left our Downtown apartment on Nelson and Burrell and headed in the rough direction of Stanley Park, renowned for being one of the best urban parks on the globe. 

Sunday morning at 7am is a distinctly odd time to first encounter a city. Downtown had a slight feeling of Canary Wharf, so empty and almost desolate. As we meandered our way West, the city slowly awoke, hungover people scrambling for coffee.

 

Getting away from the commercial district, Downtown took on more character, though I did not understand why people wax lyrical so much about Vancouver until we hit the water. Emerging on Coal Harbor, we were treated to a view beyond the boats of bay, forests and cloud topped mountains. To cap it all off, sea planes circled down to skid stop on the water.

Most of the rest of the day was spent exploring this coastline and vistas. First by foot and then by cycle. We hired the bikes where the city stops and the park begins (Ariadne on a trailer attached to Chris’ bike to make a tandem). The park was of course Stanley Park. Often said to be the best urban park in the world. Some 1000 acres of forest and parkland, jutting out into the sea.

 

We cycled 15km all in all around the sea wall, stopping off to admire totem poles, spot a seal, admire the views and pick up Niko after a fall. A diversion in land took us through the temperate rain forest to a lake, where we saw a whole lot of avian fair, including a couple of blue cranes busy frog fishing. Mildly alien yellow skunk cabbages grew from the bogs and no less than 3 types of squirrel crossed our path. A special place.

 

We ended the day with an exploration of the impressive Vancouver Aquarium. It was great to see the concentration on local wildlife, including rockfish, jellies, a white sided dolphin and even a couple of Stella sealions (more on them later…). The latter two species being kept in large part for research purposes, helping people understand the animals and, hopefully, protect them.

Markets, museums and the under belly

On our second morning, the clouds lifted, revealing the full mountainous northern skyline. It made the views even better, and as I crossing the elevated Grenville bridge with Ariadne on my shoulders, I could not help but keep spinning round to look back on the high rise of Downtown reaching up to the mountains.

 

We had a nice schmooze around Grenville market - it had the feel of Borough Market in London, but cooler and with better food - before jumping on a boat across False Creek to the BC Sports Hall of Fame. Buried in a stand of the city stadium, it exceeded expectations, chocked full of sporting memorabilia from the Vancouver Olympics and a hundred other events. 

 

Most importantly, it had a trial sports room, which entertained the small ones with a climbing wall, racing track and HOCKEY!

 

On our walk through to the not particularly impressive China Town and Gas Town, we has a little surprise. We accidently transversed the most deprived area in Canada – the Downtown East Side. For only a couple of blocks, squeaky clean Vancouver turned into a sketchy place. The first guy we past was sitting drinking covered in his own vomit. Others gave us a stare of ‘what are you doing here?’ One guy we walked straight past had his trousers down, shooting up at the bus stop. It was not a place I wanted to be with my kids. We walked fast and firm out of there.

A block later everything was sanitized again. It never ceases to amaze me how much poverty is on open show in North America just next to huge wealth. I have seen this many time in the USA, but, if I am honest, I did not expect to see it in Canada. Looking into it after, I found out that despite its wealth, Vancouver has a large drugs and homeless problem. One reasons for this is its comparatively mild climate. In brutal terms, people can survive outside like this in the winter there in a way that is simply not possible in the other big Canadian cities that freeze over.

First Nations and a colossal skeleton at BCU

We spent our final morning in Vancouver heading back out of Downtown, through Kitsilano on the bus to the massive campus of University of British Columbia (UBC). On our way the high rise gave way to pretty suburbs with great bay views. We were headed this way primarily to visit the Museum of Anthropology. 

 

In BC, I was keen to learn more about the First Nations heritage. Around the world I have found such a wide range of levels of respect for aboriginal peoples in ex-European colonies, with the average level being pretty damn low. I did not know what to expect from Canada in this regard, but if the Museum of Anthropology is anything to go by, it is better than most.

 

The place was remarkable. So many fascinating artifacts from the numerous different tribes who flourished in this region pre-European settlement, and still reside in many places. Masks, canoes, all kinds of intricate weaved goods and implements. Then there were the totem poles and array of carved animals. It was so very impressive. Giant, beautiful carvings of animals and other creations perched upon each other. We all loved it and, indeed, it was clearly a place exhibited with a lot of love. I recommend it very highly.

 

The campus itself was cool to walk around. Vast and welcoming, with views out over the ocean. It is also home to the Beaty Biodiversity Museum, where I go to watch the boys gawp at the sight of a fully grown blue whale skeleton. 

A mountainous gift

My uncle has put us in touch with family connections in Vancouver, sisters Helen and Clare, and the rest of our final day in Vancouver was spent under their wing. They picked us up in two cars, with two of their grandkids in tow as well, and took us up and out of the city towards the mountains.

The views back over the city were awesome, looking back from the Lions Gate bridge and then the view points as we climbed into Northern Vancouver.

 

Helen and Clare were taking us to a very special place. Less than an hour after leaving Downtown, we were pulling up at the end of the road in a forested snow-scape. Dressed up as warm as we could, and leant ski poles for balance, we trekked off through the trees. It took us half an hour wandering up barely marked paths (I am so glad we were being guided) over snow and ice through massive fur and conifer. This was Cypress Mountain and we were heading to remnants of time past.

 

The sisters lease one of the remaining mountain huts, built high up on the mountain side the best part of a century ago by adventurous Vancouver folk seeking an escape. No power lines, running water, roads, drains or even mobile signal. A wild place. When we reached the hut, what greeted us was a simple, beautiful wooden lodge, built high above the April snow line (as the snow can be several meters thick). Heated by a wood stove, cozy as hell, with outside loo pit to boot. While we drank wine and ate smoked salmon, our kids played with their Canadian contemporaries, building a snow fort and generally mucking about. 

I could barely believe we were in such an amazing, remote-feeling paradise so close to the city.

 

Before dark set in we sadly left, making our way back through the deep snow (I had to repeatedly pull my leg out from sink holes in the snow). It was a phenomenal experience and I am so thankful to Helen and Clare for sharing it with us.

Until next time

Year’s ago my mum visited Vancouver and, on retuning, told me I was not allowed to go there. She feared I would so like the place that I would not leave. Having now been there, I see why. Like any city, it has its issues, but the place is clearly awesome.

 

Next up Vancouver Island in search of whales and bears!

A Whole Lot of Forest and the Odd Swedish Supremecist - The Route VII (part 2)

DAY 3 – INTO THE BEYOND

Peering at the map over breakfast on our third morning, it was apparent that we were about to go more “off-map” then at any other point on our cross Europe trip to date. In the planned 150km of so for that day there was very little marked ahead of us apart from forests, the odd hamlet, contour lines and a long bloody way.

We plotted as direct a path as possible through the broad shade of green on the map. Jumping back on the saddle well stocked with smorgasbord, we left Askersund due East and were soon enveloped by the firs and pine. For the first hour or so, our route took us along good, straight roads through the trees. We made good time before stopping at a quirky ice cream parlour as our path crossed a more substantial road next to a logging factory.

As we re-embarked on our journey East the forest closed in and landscape became hillier, allowing some great tucked downhill descents through the trees, which made me feel like I was on some Austrian downhill ski run.

Coming to another crossroads we decided to take what looked like a short-cut, 20km or so along a dotted road rather than much longer up and across on the non-dotted road. It soon became apparent that the dots meant something.

The tarmac stopped, giving way to a surprisingly smooth dirt surface. This was another logging track and made for a fantastic ride through the thick forest. It was a great feeling to power through the green knowing that we were out on our own. In an hour or so through the trees we did not see anyone, let alone a dwelling and we were happily without phone signal (happy to long as my bike did not break again!).

Stopping off at a random point for a piss behind a tree, I stumbled across a giant ants’ nest. Made up of pine needles, half as big as a car and, when you looked close up, covered in hundreds of thousands of ants. It was an amazing sight! I did not even know things like this existed in these Northern climes.

We emerged unscathed and ate a packed lunch by a small lake next to, here’s a surprise, a forest. Despite making good progress, none of us were quite up for the romantic Swedish summer lake swim. While the rain was holding off, it was pretty cold and we had a long way to go.

Trees, trees, forest, forest, hamlet, forest, trees, hamlet, forest…. the odd deer… The rest of the day was a lot like that. Two things ran through my mind. First, especially considering that this is the populated part of Sweden (the top half of Sweden is one of the least populated parts of Europe), there really are bugger all people in a vast land. Second, Swedish people really like their space. Even when we passed a village, houses were spread thinly and there would rarely be any type of central square or focal point as is standard in Western Europe. Swedes must appreciate their own company!

In late afternoon we finally made it to a town – Flen - and, stopping for coffee and cake, tried to work out where to stay. Rather drained, this proved to be a disheartening experience. Local advice was scant and we found a blank from place after place we tried. Getting a bit desperate, we looked up campsites within a 20km radius and lucked upon a campsite that would take us.

As tiredness set in and the light faded, we took the most direct route on a dodgy narrow road frequented by large trucks. There were some uncomfortably close calls and we were relieved and knackered to roll into the campsite just after dark.

It was an idyllic place. Smart cabins and tents by a lake, surrounded by even more forest. A full moon and open deck on which to eat and drink good beer into the night. Perfect end to a tough, long day through the wilderness.

DAY 4 – IN SEARCH OF STOCKHOLM

We had made great progress, pedalling 460km in 3 days, but still had another 130km to churn with plenty of built in fatigue, plus the “joy” of finding our way into a big city.

Waking up in an serene bit of forest, Stockholm felt an age away. Once the legs had got going, the morning proved to be surprisingly blissful. More forests, lakes and generally nice landscape. The sun came out and it was even touching upon warm. We had come a long way since 9 degrees C and slanting rain in Gothenburg. We pushed on and ate up the kilometres.

By late lunch we reached the sizable town of Södertälje. It was the biggest town we had seen for nearly 3 days and it felt a bit weird having to look out for traffic (I nearly tumbled straight into a car). While Uwe and I were focused on filling our stomachs with numerous hot dogs, the extent of complaining from Dave indicated a real issue. He had been making noises about one of his legs for a bit, but now was bent over grabbing his ankle clearly in abject pain.

His Achilles had gone and 50km to go suddenly seemed a long way. Dave was umming and arrghhing about having to quit, taking the train and meeting us in Stockholm. For his leg he knew it would be the best thing, but to come so close and give up would have torn him. One thing I have learned about Dave in the past decade and through many an escapade, is that he is bloody minded and definitely not a quitter. He decided to push on. We strapped him up some more and pushed out of town on the final leg of our Swedish journey.

After a puncture, one final swathe of forest and a misdirectional detour up and down a valley, we eventually reached the outskirts of Stockholm. I had been to the city twice before, but always in the centre. Cycling into a large city often gives you a very different aspect to other tourists and that was definitely the case here. First came ugly motorways and shopping centres, flanked by pretty good bike paths which ran up and down between each road crossing (I could hear Dave’s wincing on every mini uphill).

Then came suburbs of mass functional, but uninspirational blocks of flats. We had barely seen a non-ethnic Swede in the past 4 days, but these neighbourhoods seemed predominantly populated by people of Middle-Eastern or North African descent. We managed to get lost again and found our way through a large park frequented by families and groups eating out with impromptu BBQs.

With the help of some locals, we managed to find our way up and over a large bridge into the centre of the city and before we knew it the surprisingly ugly and uninspiring outskirts were replaced by the truly spectacular centre of Stockholm.

Uwe and I had wide smiles on our faces (I think Dave had a grimace) as we made our way through the streets and across the bridges into Gamla Stan, the small dense island which is the heart of the old city. Back onto the mainland, a sweep to the right between grand buildings and the water, before a final right turn, across a bridge and a bumpy run down to our final destination, a sailing ship hostel moored on Djurgarden.

High fives all round. We had completed the longest cycle of my life, 600 km in four days through rain, cold, forest and breakdown. Deck chairs and beer awaited in the sunshine on the top deck.

BETA SONS OF ODIN

After a long unwind and a hot shower, we had just enough energy for a night out. A fun time bar hopping around the city was ended with a distinctly odd and slightly concerning meeting.

Walking back to our hostel at around 2 am, we came across a group of guys in biker jackets seemingly standing guard by a bridge. A closer look showed a bunch of slightly geeky pale guys, with a leader making comments to ladies as they past. One of the girls had a go at them in response and my mildly pissed self wanted to find out what was going on.

I caught up with the girl who explained that they were little fascist idiots. They were “Sons of Odin”, a group of white supremacists who were infamous for making disproven claims about rapes by immigrants. What to do? I went over to have a chat.

Up close, they appeared much less threatening then from a distance. Players of War Hammer rather than actual war, with a definite nerdy demeanour. I asked what they were up to, trying to hide my disdain. What proceeded was a strange chat with their “leader” (none of the others seemed able or allowed to speak), who explained they were protecting true Swedish women from dangerous immigrants and Muslims. I asked if they had actually saved anyone. The response was a mumble. Another group of ladies walked past and swore at the odd group. I suggested that local ladies didn’t seem to want their protection. The response was more of a grumble, but they were sure they were doing important work...

As we walked off, my first thought was here was a bunch of beta males who reacted to a lack of success with the ladies with a blame game on “others”. Oh no, it wasn't their fault that these beautiful ladies walking past wouldn’t look twice a them, it must be the foreigners. It was sad and depressing. Not what I expected to find in Stockholm, but losers are everywhere I suppose.

A FINAL ADVENTURE, A CASUALTY AND HOME

Waking up surprisingly un-hungover we had most of the day to explore the stunning city. Usually this would involve a long ramble around the city, but Dave’s leg was bad, so I had the bright idea of taking a canoe instead. This idea lead to a wholly unnecessary mini adventure.

We ended up renting a couple of kayaks from a super fit looking Swede, asking where best to head. He recommended just going round the island we were on - "a nice and easy paddle". He had clearly overestimated us. After an initial gentle paddle down a canal like channel, we soon found ourselves out in open water. First there was chop, then after the next turn we discovered a headwind and plenty of boats to boot. The situation deteriorated until we found ourselves in the ridiculous situation of frantically crossing a major waterway and then back paddling in a panic to avoid being run over by a ferry.

We eventually made it back after a full 10km circuit and, needless to say, were knackered. Worst, Dave’s leg was now completely spent (who would of thought that kayaking actually required leg work!). As Uwe bid us farewell for another year, legging it to a German bound plane, all that was left was the joy of pushing Dave around the amazing Vasa Museet in a wheelchair.

Then home. Another year, another journey, but this one longer and harder than before (some 600 km!). Next year Spain, provided Dave’s heal heals…