My brother-in-law Merv and two of my sisters and I stayed two nights in Powell River, followed by two more at Gibsons Landing.
“Come on, Sunshine Coast. Show us what you can do,” I begged as our time there began.
READ MORE: Family travels in late October: Part 1 (Jan. 10, 2018)
Answering our prayers, clear blue skies and sunshine accompanied us for the rest of our trip, showing us the unique beauty of that rugged coastal part of BC.
We watched in delight from the balconies of our Powell River motel rooms as herons came and went, seagulls swooped, seals bobbed in and out of view, distant whales spouted, and boats of every description chugged north and south in the salty Salish Sea.
“That barge might be dragging its log boom to my son Richard’s sawmill in Cowichan Bay,” remarked my Quesnel sister Valerie.
“Be sure to stop at Dinner Rock on your way north to Lund at the end of Highway 101,” Clearwater friend Shelley had advised us.
After winding down a narrow dirt road, we arrived at an unoccupied but ruggedly delightful seaside Forestry Recreation Site.
“The view is spectacular,” I assured Shelley later, “but it’s a sad story about the shipwreck at Dinner Rock.”
Lund is a place of fond memories for me.
“I hiked parts of the Sunshine Coast Trail with some Girl Guide Buddies in my fitter days,” I boasted. “We took a water taxi from Lund and had to leap off onto the sand to begin our first day’s hike. Soon we were well above the ocean in a rocky forested area, but later we were down again on the opposite side of this peninsula, trudging along the seashore in our hiking boots. We certainly deserved dinner cooked over a fire back at our campsite.”
Now, in 2017, gentle ambles in warm sunshine around the wee village of Lund had to suffice, while conversely, seafood chowder and fish and chips were brought to our table in a local cafe.
South of Powell River, another ferry ride took us from Saltery Bay to Earl’s Cove. Since tide tables showed us our timing could not work to see the turmoil of water at Skookumchuck Narrows when the tide turns, we continued driving and turned off the highway to go to Garden Bay.
Several kilometres along, past pretty ponds, small lakes and cabins, we met crews working on power lines.
“Nope, no restaurants will be open,” responded the flagman in response to my question. “Power is off everywhere beyond here.”
It was a bit chilly for a picnic so we were happy to have better luck at Madeira. The view from the restaurant showed craggy headlands dominated by red arbutus trees and inlets loaded with small pleasure craft and houses tucked into impossible places.
“There’s BC’s Sunshine Coast at its glorious best,” I noted proudly to the rest of the group. “At Garden Bay we’d have been down in the midst of that beauty instead of seeing it from above,” I continued in my best tour-guide voice.
Gibsons is best known to us oldies for the years when Beachcomber was filmed there for weekly TV showing. Valerie revelled in memories of being at hand when this was happening, so we had coffee at Molly’s Reach for old time’s sake. Later we hiked beside shimmering water from Pebbles Beach to its end. Here we could copy Vera and Merv’s Aussie experience and scuff through the sand or play “Catch me if you can” with the ebbing and flowing of chilly waves.
Our fourth and final ferry ride once again drew us outside. As previously, whales spouted in the distance. But close to us, a scuffle in the water turned into four dolphins playing.
Obviously well-paid by the Tourist Commission, they leapt in unison towards the bow of our boat. A trail of parallel bubbles filled the space between jumps and they smiled in response to our oohs and aahs before disappearing.
“What a send-off from the Sunshine Coast!” we sighed happily. But sadly, we would also be parting from each other just a couple of hours later.
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