photo cred: travel-van...
I'm a big West Coast girl. Grew up there almost my entire life and was part of the whole shebang. Even as a self-proclaimed city girl, I have very fond memories going trout fishing with my dad up at one of the ten zillion lakes and rivers there are, or crab catching and clam digging with the whole family at the seashore. We kept the clams for cooking later, but normally only kept one or two of the crabs and let the rest go - it was more for fun than anything else. But I have to say, there's nothing like eating food you caught fresh yourself.
you honestly can't be that grumpy being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn
when you've soon got this looking back at you
photo cred: dhall218
The Canadian West Coast is a lot different than what most probably imagine the American version as being. Personally, for the latter, I quickly imagine long, sunny boardwalks with gorgeous scantily clad and tanned people chilling, Baywatch-style, by the beach where the sparkling water is speckled with pro surfers and sailboats and all sorts of other images of southern Californian beauty. Don't get me wrong, we have touches of that too. You'll definitely find your share of beautiful people in swimsuits down to English Bay or White Pine beach during the summer, soaking up the long-awaited sun after a long rainy season ... and head up to Tofino and you'll definitely see some great surf life as well.
But there's something more natural about things here. Not to put down SoCal's nature(ness?), of course. But when you're in all the special places that fill the nooks and crannies of this great province, you feel at one with nature - you feel what you imagine the original Native Americans might have felt all those years ago before the land was littered with highways and skyscrapers and automobiles. Maybe that's just me - I've always loved our rich Aboriginal history, and the fact that we were always educated about it. I remember taking field trips up to Haida heritage sites and seeing all the beautiful totem poles and weavings they had and hearing all their folk tales centred around wild mystical characters like the Raven and Coyote and Heron. It was all just ... magical.
Oh man, I can't even think coherently at the moment. I wish I could find exactly the right pictures that represent the images that are flooding my mind right now. Memories of looking out my backyard window and seeing coyotes and deer (not at the same time of course ;)) just behind our fence, or going to Victoria and looking out at the water and seeing otters playing, and that unforgettable feeling of excitement shared with friends and classmates when we saw a great bald eagle fly overhead (I think I've only seen 2 or 3 total so far so the few times I did it was always a treat). But, more than anything, I miss the mountains. Waking up and going to school and always seeing them up ahead wherever I was. You know, I always kind of assumed all mountains looked like the Rockies or Whistler and took them for granted cause they were so present all the time in my life, but it wasn't until I moved that I realized ... nope. These were special.
Anyway ... I just had to do a quick reminiscing post about the one of a kind, gorgeous, wondrous place I call home. Splendor sine occasu.
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