It's Spring time in the Okanagan - hopefully for keeps - so I pulled out my bike today and rode around town with my sister and nieces. 

It. 

Was. 

Perfect. 

And when I got home I made a HUGE kale salad and danced around the kitchen to this. I dare you to listen to that song and not dance. I would wager a guess that it is absolutely not possible to listen to that song and not tap a toe. 

Such a great day made me begin to think about other great days, and I was reminded of the time Andra and I decided to take a road trip around Vancouver Island. Our favorite place, by far, was Port Hardy.

I, personally, did not know much about Port Hardy, and by not much I mean that I knew absolutely nothing. We pulled up to our Campground and wandered into the office to check in and were met by the loveliest lady, let's call her June. June welcomed us to her campsite, and went on to explain the amenities of the campground adding that we should be careful as there had been a bear roaming around here and there. Wide eyed, Andra and I asked what we should do if we came face to face with said bear. She laughed and said, "Oh! Just talk to it like it's a dog!" 

June then went on to tell us that we could actually go bear watching (BEAR WATCHING?!!) at a bridge just a stones throw away. Baby cubs and a mama bear and all that! Totally normal evening activity in ol' Port Hardy. 

June then told us about this great local restaurant that we could walk to on this great trail next to the river, through the woods. 

Andra and I wondered at why anyone would walk through a forest when they knew that there were DEFINITELY bears nearby, but we decided to trust the locals and take the suggested trail. 

We did some speed walking, obviously, and eventually stumbled across the bear watching bridge. We cautiously walked over, grabbing one another by the arm, absolutely terrified of actually seeing a bear, and looked over the edge.

Nothing. Well, some fishermen, but otherwise nothing. 

"You just missed it!" The fisherman yelled out to us. "There was just a momma bear and her two cubs!" 

"Which direction did they go?" we asked, pseudo curious. 

"Oh, that way!" he yelled. 

He was pointing back towards where we came from, so we felt safe enough to continue walking away from the campsite - it felt like the only real option really. 

So we walked. And walked. And walked. 

Every whistle of wind, every branch breaking beneath our feet, every bird in the bushes, we were SURE was a bear. "Stop making noise!" we exclaimed to each other, "You're scaring me half to death!" 

Finally, we stumbled out of the forest and onto a path next to the river. This felt safer. No more trees to hide the bears, just wide open space. And the view! THE VIEW!

You could literally see the fish jumping! 

Families gathered on the shore trying to get a bite, even standing in the water with their nets trying to catch them in thin air, because, why not. Chances were that they were going to jump straight into your net anyway. 

We stopped only briefly to enjoy the view, but the sun was going down and we had to get to the restaurant ASAP. We walked as fast as our feet could carry us, feeling tempted to run at some points, and then there it was, in all it's glory, "Babes". 

"Do you think that's the place they were talking about?" I asked Andra. 

It was a little weather worn, a hotel right by the water with windows covering much of the surface facing the water. 

"Well, I guess?" answered Andra. 

We wandered into the carpeted space, up the steps and stumbled into a restaurant with a large bar, a wall full of alcohol, and about three people - tops. "Hi there!" the bartender greeted us happily, "take a seat anywhere you'd like!" 

We chose a table right near the windows where we could still make out the jumping fish, the fishing boats, the beautiful sunset. We enjoyed a delicious meal and took an obligatory selfie in the restaurant window. 

By the end of our evening out, we realized that walking back through the forest at night was not an option. "Are there taxis out here?" we asked the bartender. 

He laughed and said, "Well, yes, but I'll just take you! You're staying at the campsite right?" 

"Umm, yes." we responded cautiously. 

"Well no problem, let me just quickly tell my wife. Hey Marge!" he yelled into the kitchen, "just running out to drop these girls off, be back in a jif!" 

He was an older gentleman, early 60's I would guess, with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, and a demeanor that seemed trustworthy enough. We agreed, not really having many other options. Andra tried to reassure me as I suggested that we secretly text our families a final farewell. 

The bartender lead us outside, up to his truck, and unlocked the doors so that we could climb inside. As I climbed in, I noticed signage on his truck door advertising a carpentry business: a bartender, taxi driver, and carpenter? This guy was a jack of all trades!

We spoke of our trip as we drove back to the campsite and laughed as our bartender told us about the first time he heard about Port Hardy's bears. He told us how him and his wife were recent transplants to the little city, and that the first few months of their time in Port Hardy had been spent in the little campground Andra and I were staying at. He spoke of the way the rain would fall on the roof of his trailer those couple of months, and how loud those raindrops were, and how much Port Hardy felt like home. 

We arrived at our campsite, and tried to push some bills into our bartender's hand, but he shook his head "no". 

"It's not a problem girls! Have a great time in Port Hardy!" and he was gone. 

When I was living in Victoria, I came up with a bit of a “repertoire” of touristy things to do with friends when they came to visit. This list always included all of my favorite coffee shops, a visit to a castle where Christian Bale, AKA Batman, AKA the most beautiful man on the planet, once stood, as well as some time by the ocean and in my favorite restaurants. I worked really hard to stay away from the most touristy spots, so that I could give my friends a real taste of island life.

The thing is people come far and wide to see certain things in Victoria, one of these things being The Empress. For those of you who don’t know, The Empress is this beautiful old hotel in downtown Victoria, right along the harbor. It’s covered in green vines, and looks like it is out of an old movie, and lots of people think that it is haunted. To sum it up – it’s a fancy place for fancy people.

I myself had only ever driven past the Empress, knowing that I was not fancy enough to set foot inside. But I had a friend come to visit who wanted to see it desperately. I put it off until the very end of her visit, hoping that she would forget, mostly because I didn’t know the etiquette of the Empress, and whether you could just waltz in – were there tours for rag tag university students who couldn’t afford to stay the night? I too wanted to see what was inside, what everyone thought was so great about it, but I was not interested in the actual logistics of getting inside.

My friend, however, is the gutsiest, and she decided that we were getting in the building whether we were aloud to go inside or not. We discussed back entrances, scaling some vines, climbing in a window, and settled on the most obvious answer, sauntering through the front door and pretending that we were hotel guests.

So at 10pm on a Sunday evening, my friend and I sauntered past the valet’s, straight past the check in counter, and up the spiral staircase. My heart was beating so fast, my knees were practically knocking together, and I was sure that every sound was either an employee or a ghost, and I wasn’t sure which would actually be worse. The Empress is filled with shops and restaurants, all closed by the time we got there, so we peered through dark windows and tried to get a look behind the barriers. We were looking into a teashop when my friend elbowed me right in the ribs and motioned behind us.

A security guard.

My eyes darted around for an exit, I thought about hiding but it was way too late, we decided instead to pretend to be extremely interested in a painting next to the elevator and hope for the best.

“Isn’t it incredible?” the security guard asked.

Incredible? The amount of sweat on my brow? The grip I had on my friend’s elbow? The fact that we forgot to dress up like rich hotel guests and instead look like we just rolled out of a gutter?  

My friend recovered really quickly – “oh yes, very interesting” she said.

I realized we were discussing the painting, a picture of the Empress in the old days, “what I great view!” I added.

Then the security leaned in close, pulled out his ring of keys, looked to the left then the right and whispered, “can I show you some of my favorite rooms?”

We were completely taken aback – I was sure that it was obvious that we were trespassing. We weren’t paying for a room. We weren’t from the New York Times writing on the majesty of the Empress. We were of absolutely no value to this hotel whatsoever – in fact, we were really just there for our own gain. But we obviously agreed – secretly hoping that his “favorite room” wasn’t some sort of underground Empress jail.

We were lead through locked doors into the most incredible rooms. We saw an old library where men use to sit around and smoke cigars – the Security Guard shon his flashlight on the ceiling showing us the gold plait ceilings. He took us to the ball room where the roof use to be one large window – Harry Potter styles - and was now covered in mirrors, and into a room where if you stood in a very exact spot, you could overhear all of the conversations in the room.

When it became apparent that my friend and I were not staying in the hotel, that we had just sauntered through the front door, the Security Guard laughed and told us that we were absolutely welcome, and mentioned a few other rooms that we aught to explore on our own so he could get back to work. 

This memory remains one of my absolute favorites from my time in Victoria - so I thought it deserved a place right here on the old blog. 

This January I have been completely spoiled by two of my favorite people on the entire planet - Andra and Shelaine. Also known as my soul sisters. Also known as my Victoria besties. 

First came Andra, for an entire five days, and I got to bask in her incredible, fun-loving, gentle spirit. I got to tell her all the things that were ailing me, and she taught me how to eat like the lactose and gluten sensitive person that I now am. 

Andra made a lot of the things that have been scaring me about living in Kelowna

a lot less scary. Her presence provided a peace of mind that I was where I was meant to be. 

Then came Shelaine. 

I had food poisoning the day we were supposed to hang out, which was awful. But we did get some time in and it was lovely in a totally different way. Shelaine and I have always been pretty superb at sharing our hearts with one another. Our guts just sort of spill out all over the place and we carefully try to sift through them together.

After both Shelaine and Andra were gone I thought that I would be yearning for Victoria in a big way, and man, do I ever want to visit! But I feel in a brand new way like my chapter in Victoria has closed, and while I still find myself a little unbalanced here in the valley... 

I know I am right where I need to be.