I have to apologize to Vancouver Island — that’s right, the actual island.
I will never take it for granted again.
For the overwhelming majority of my life — save a few years in England as a wee lad — I have lived on Vancouver Island.
Born in Victoria, grew up in Duncan, blah, blah, blah.
A lifer, you might say.
So during that time, I have become somewhat accustomed to the place.
Trees? Seen many of ‘em.
The ocean? Yeah, see it every day.
Views of the mountains? Yup. There they are all right. Every single day.
For years, I’ve talked with all kinds of folks who are visiting the area for the first time — and when they gush over the natural beauty, it has always sounded like the teacher from Charlie Brown to me.
“Oh, you’re so lucky to live here, it’s amazing.”
“It sure is — are you going eat the rest of that potato salad?”
A couple of years back, I went to Tofino for the first time. That’s right, four-plus decades living on the Island, and I’d never been to Tofino. Imagine that...
Of course, it was great. I enjoyed bodysurfing (everyone who knows me stop and picture that for a second) and the whole bit.
But here’s how sadly jaded I had become. In the end, it was the same Pacific Ocean that I’d seen every day for some 16,000 days. The trees looked like the trees I’d seen every day. And on and on.
What the heck is wrong with me?
I figured it out last week. I was doing some consulting work in Alberta. About five minutes out of Calgary, driving north, I felt this strange sensation.
I didn’t know what it was.
I looked in every direction and saw a lot of fields without colour, spotted with snow. The occasional building.
It was interesting, because I wasn’t used to it. Then I realized what that bizarre feeling was.
Danged if I didn’t miss the ocean. And the mountains. And all the trees.
This can’t be happening, I thought. Might I actually care about Vancouver Island?
Apparently, I do.
I’ve found myself on more than a few occasions peering out my hotel room window at the snow and thinking “man, they’re probably out on the boat at home.” Or wishing I was taking a late-winter trip to the grocery story — in shorts and soccer sandals.
So many of the terrific people out here almost immediately said, when finding out where I was from, “oh, it’s so beautiful out there” or “I have to get out there one of these days… I hear it’s beautiful.”
Yes, it is. And it may have taken me nearly a half-century to figure it out… but there’s no place like home.