Tofino - Written June 2

An only slightly harrowing 5 hr drive from Victoria has found me in Tofino, on Vancouver Island's far west coast. The drive really was just brilliant, especially the leg from Port Hardy to Tofino. The potholed highway hugs rivers, lakes and more than a few mountainsides. Last time I came out here it was mid-winter and pouring rain. Waterfalls fell from the overhanging rocks and onto the road and passing cars. This time, I drove in sunshine and the only flowing water was in the fast-moving creeks that diverted under the road.

Although I'd visited Tofino at least 3 times before, I'd never made it out to the natural hot springs at the creatively named Hot Springs Cove. I set out to fix this today. I joined a charter going out to the island where the springs are and spent the first 2 hours of the day cruising between dozens and dozens of mostly unnamed islands. The wildlife was everywhere and we stopped to gawk at a huge pile of enormous sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks. There were also cormorants, puffins, harbour seals, porpoises, many many bald eagles and even a grey whale made an appearance, waving his tail in the air for effect.

The springs themselves aren't like any other natural hot springs I've been to. First, there's barely a wiff of the sulfur smell that usually accompanies geothermal springs. Second, you'd hardly know the springs were even there if it weren't for the cedar shelter set back in the trees. The hot water come out of the ground and flows down a 20' waterfall into a small crevasse in the rocks. Barely as wide as I am long, the hot water flows straight down into the ocean, slowed into a few pools by armfuls of rocks cum dams. What was really surprising was how close the spring is to the shore. Instead of jumping into a cold-water plunge pool, the pacific is right there and just as cold.

Sailing back to Tofino's harbour, we ducked in and out between islands. I just love the shape of the west coast. Waves of mountains start blue in the distance with each ridge and foothill becoming progressively greener until there's one right in front of you, tumbling into the ocean. Branches hang just above the high-tide mark and make me think of hands and arms reaching out to prevent a fall.

There are still a few slopes in Claquot Sound that have never been logged and the forests that grow on them are something to be seen. It makes no sense to refer to them as trees, they are true forests in every sense of the word. Tangled and interwoven, deep green live trees propping up the silvered dead ones, opportunistic moss and lichen covering every surface sheltered from the winds. They aren't colourful forests - the dominant colour being a ubiquitous blue-grey green - but the abundance of textures make up for it.

I've been a little more active this past week. Between horse-riding, getting out on the water, and a few good hikes, my body is starting to be put to use again. Muscles are sore but happy to be working. I'm liking this outdoors-y thing I think. It's been ages since I've slept as well as I do in my van, with the crashing surf in my ears and nothing but darkness and stars in my eyes. I may have to make a habit of this.