We touched down in British Columbia yesterday at 10:30 AM. Descending over the heavy, wet, cloud-covered array of islands along the coastline, coming down into the long shadows of the neighboring mountains, I felt that I was coming home. The Pacific Northwest, and BC, looks, feels, smells so much different than Southern California. The soil is full and dark. The air is moist. The trees are dense and lush, green and top heavy.
We passed Customs and took a bus into the city and, after a short while of walking around a seedy part of the downtown and Chinatown, got a room in the Grand Trunk hostel in Gastown.
Walking the streets of Vancouver I was struck by how very different a place it is, how distinctly not American. It seemed like people of all class, of every nationality and culture, men and women of every socio-economic bracket all shared the same street. The city itself looks and feels quite a bit like Seattle, with its walkable, but large downtown business district. A lot of tourism seemed apparent. The waterfront and the omnipresence of trees and parks.
We watched as a huge group of teenaged skateboarders did olis and kickflips down a dozen stairs, cheering and gasping together as kids hit the ground still on their feet or otherwise. Eventually the crowd dispersed and an ambulance was called in for the casualties.
Across the square were a couple of hash bar type establishments, neon pot leaves glowing greenly, celebrating Vancouver's favorite decriminalized past time.
Our meandering path took us back around into Chinatown, and back through the teaming, filthy streets. It made me think of what parts of Manhattan must have been in the 70s, before it was made to be the way it is today -- so clean, so seemingly safe and lawful. Vancouver brings to mind the NY of Taxi Driver with its freakshows and sex drive, fanatics and junkies.
We had great luck with food, finding a little hole in the wall bargain Lebanese joint which was really excellent. After eating our falafel and salads, we headed out in search of a bar where we would be able to watch game 6 of the NBA finals. We had no problem doing so and ended up having a great time watching the game in a crowded brew pub over pitchers of pale ale. The Pistons pulled off the upset win in San Antonio and we were stoked.
Today we wandered some more, out west over and through the more commercial parts of downtown Vancouver. We walked Robson St out towards the big city park we located on our little tourist map and, after picking up a loaf of green olive bread and cheese at the store, sat overlooking a lagoon of sorts, shooing away an agressive flock of genuine Canada Geese who were home for the summer. We walked from there across the park along blackberry vine-walled pathways to the English Bay, where we splashed in tide pools and played on wet algae-thickened stones for a good piece of the afternoon.
This evening we are taking a bus out east to Manning Provincial Park, wher we hope to find the PCT's northern terminus at the US border. I am feeling ready to get back to hiking, but at the same time, I think I've forgotten what it was like. I've got new shoes and my knees are bothering me even off the trail right now.
We'll find soon enough what it will be like out there.
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