The North part of Vancouver Island

When dad told me that Vancouver Island was bigger than the entire country of the Netherlands, I believed him, but couldn't imagine it. I am definitely one of those people who needs to see and experience it myself in order to fully grasp it. Now that I am writing this from a campsite in the astoundingly quiet and natural Strathcona Provincial Park in the middle of the island, about halfway up from the southern tip of Victoria where I started a few days ago, I can confidently say that I grasp it. There are vast mountains and lakes, ancient trees of genormous sizes, forests where campers like us roam through and spend the night or week, and, after 9 years of living in Europe, I get the feeling that I'm travelling around a small European country rather than the biggest of the many islands on the westernmost tip of Canada. And without checking the stats, I can confirm that its bigger than the Netherlands.

Just another reminder about the enormity of this country.

You'll see some pictures that I took yesterday evening during a walk along the beach in Black Creek. The view across the water was of the coastal mountains of the mainland, and the feeling on the beach was so relaxed I think I decided it was where I would retire. If I make it that far and this stretch of land retains the feeling it has now so many years into the future. Hmmm. My parents, however, are now entering that stage of their lives and dad's feeling mirrored mine; he even went so far as to google the coastal property for sale when we returned to the campsite – “just out of curiosity”.

I've had several lessons from my dad in the past few days about how to operate the various features of my new home. I'll try to describe them here, so you have a sense of the demands of my new lifestyle (don't worry, I don't think I fully have a sense yet myself of what I've committed to for the next year, but here goes anyway eh).

The van has a toilet. I wanted this because a year of public toilets and peeing in the bush might get tiresome. Once I've done my business, the toilet flushes into a holding tank with water from either the hose attached if I am at an RV site with connections, or from the fresh water tank on the other side of the van if not. Its a pretty big tank – apparently it will hold up to a week's worth of waste, for want of a better word, before it really needs to be dumped.

yesterday I got to dump it. Apart from being a bit icky, I think I'll be able to survive the procedure. Basically the first thing I do is find a dump station. My grandma, who spent the better part of 10 years travelling to nearly every corner of North America with my grandpa, imparted some words of wisdom before I left Victoria, and among them was that I would be “constantly on the lookout for a dump station.” Once I've found one and I'm parked with the toilet valves within reaching distance of the hole in the ground (with a lid to cover the smell) that is the dump station, which I assume tunnels directly to a sewage system. I don my heavy duty plastic gloves and take out the tubes. I attach a clear plastic dohicky to the spout, an acordian tube to the dohicky with the other end into the hole in the ground, attach a water hose to another spout directly above it, and then open the hatch. Literally. The clear attachment ensures that I can see all the piss and shit and water dumping out from my holding tank and into the hole in the ground. When its empty, I flush it with water, giving the tank an enema to make sure its clear and ready for more. Then I repeat the procedure with the second holding tank, the “grey water”, which is a relief in comparison as its only water from the sink and shower. Much less icky.

At least I don't have to pay city taxes anymore to flush away my waste into blissful ignorance.

When I am at a full service RV campsite, I can pull a plug out of a door in the side of the van and plug it in to get electricity, so that everything inside, from the stove and oven to the lights to the fridge, will work. Otherwise, as I'll experience tonight here in Strathcona “bare-bones” camping site, it draws off an auxillary battery which apparently doesn't touch the main battery needed to get the engine of the truck running. There's also a fresh water hose that I can attach at a full site for fresh running water, and a generator.

Then there's the propane tank, which will keep the fridge running when the van is unplugged, and the gas tank. Dad assures me that as long as I've got gas in the tank, the van's various options will run; its apparently foolproof. I've been know to be a bit of a fool over the years, so I guess we'll see eh.

It all sounds so complicated, and the environmentalist in me reacts instinctively to the usage of such fuels as gas and propane. But then again, this isn't exactly a smartcar that I'm driving around the country, and thank goodness for that. I'd get rather cramped in one of those, I imagine. I've already done quite well in operating this machine, so I think I'll get the hang of it.

We drove inland yesterday from Campbell River about 40kms, and it was, for the most part, a stunning drive. Before we left Campbell River, I went into the BCLiquor store to stock up on essentials like beer and wine, and dad waited in the van. The radio told him then to make a stop at beautiful Elk Falls along the very highway we were already headed down, so we took that advice and stopped. After a few wrong turns we found the right one, and were pretty glad we did. The falls and the walk through the forest leading to it were a perfect bit of evidence of the natural kind of beauty this country is famous for.

My only point of concern while driving this otherwise fantastic stretch of land were the trees. I wish I could say they stretched on endlessly, but in fact they came in choppy bunches along the side of the road. For over 35kms before entering the protected provincial park land, there were section after section of land that had been clear-cutted, leaving ugly, uncared for dead stumps to litter the grass. And only a little replanting. I remembered watching the BBC Planet Earth series episode on forests and their claim that much of the earth's oxygen comes from Canada's vast boreal forests. I know that what I saw yesterday is merely a smidgeon in the grand scope of Canada's forests, but its an ugly relic from the past ways of logging that, if continues unchecked, could be disastrous for not only Canada but our world.

***

We stayed 1-day and 1-night in the wilds of Strathcona Park; without any RV hook ups, let alone electricity, wireless internet or mobile phone access, dad and I were cut off from civilization (apart from camping neighbours). We BBQ'd our dinner, drank some beer and wine, and stubbornly struggled with wet firewood to get it blazing just before getting tired enough to declare the day over. Following our unplugged night it the provincial park, we jumped back into the van and retraced our way back through the winding roads to continue heading north along the highway. Along this 250-ish km drive, for which you will see pictures, there were several things that I stored in the back of my head to make note of.

I'll start with the trees, since I finished with them yesterday. North of the town of Campbell River a.k.a. Halfway up the Island, the forests continue on at a staggering length. The view from the van was kilometre after unbelievable kilometre after hundreds more kilometres of mostly pine and birch forest surrounded by pristine moutains and lakes. Despite not wanting to sound like a tourist brochure, I wish I could say the forest was totally untouched, but not so. Still mostly wild and untamed and pretty damned humbling, we could still see identical sections of clear-cut forest to yesterday's drive every few minutes along today's highway, but many of them up north here were replanted, to my relief. In the pictures, you'll see young forest growing right up against older forest.

This northern half of the island is mostly wild nature with a few odd human settlements dotted along the coast and evidence of logging companies along the one highway that goes this way. While forest and small communities exist in the southern part of the island, there's a tame-dness to the southern ones that I don't feel as much here. Here, up north, I feel like I'm in entering a bit of the true Canadian back-of-beyond.

When we finally pulled into Port McNeill, 350-ish kms north of Victoria and not yet at the end of the island, we pulled into the Petro Canada gas station for a break. Dad received several urgent text messages to call home. To back this story up and fill you all in, he and mom have been trying to sell the house I grew up in; Murphy's Law ensured that they got the offer on it that they were looking for on the one and only day that he was, in his own words, “incommunicado” (not sure if that's actually a word, but in his vocabulary, it translates roughly to “completely out of any range of communication”). Anyway, he called mom and the real estate agent in Calgary where they are selling the house, and we wound up driving somewhat frantically through the little town in search of a fax machine to receive the contract to sign and fax back. We found it, and on our excited way, a strange noise in the front tires as well.

All of which leads me to comment on customer service here in the north part of the island: the lady at the Port McNeill harbour visitor's centre let us use her phone – long distance -, fax machine and computer with internet free of charge; and all with a smile that seemed really genuine. While waiting for the fax, we visited the tire centre to check out the squeal coming from the front left tire, and same story: they checked and torqued each tire, ensured the brakes were ok, and sent us on our way Free Of Charge and with wide smiles on their faces. Yeesh.

So now its all done; the house is sold, the van is driving well (but still emitting a squeal when I brake, which I will defer to the wisdom of the boys at the friendly tireshop and ignore), and we are happily hooked up in a full-service RV site just north of Port McNeill, dinner, wine, electricity and all.

Most interestingly today, during our wait for the fax, I watched the weather change rather dramatically; it started off a beautiful sunny day, and then I watched as a mist moseyed its way in from the water and engulfed this part of the island. I write this now from inside a van inside a cloud surrounded by hundreds of kilometres of forest and ocean, listening to the fog-horn blowing its regular 3-beep warning at 1 minute intervals to ships who can't see the lighthouse for the fog.

Mixed with the sound of the waves crashing into shore and pretty much nothing else, its not a bad way to drift off to sleep. Hope the cougars that have been recently spotted in the area let us sleep tonight and show up tomorrow when I'm taking a walk with my camera!