Coming Home the Long Way
Today I was able to breath for the first time in two years. I took a lungful of salty sea air and felt my entire body go limp. Every muscle fiber uncoiled itself. I had made it home.
Home is the west coast of British Columbia. Specifically Vancouver Island and the capital city of Victoria. I wasn’t born in the city. I wasn’t born on the island, or even the province. My roots stretch across the Rocky Mountains to the foothills and the city of Calgary. I grew up looking west to the mountains and east to the dusty prairies stretching to the Canadian Shield.
My introduction to Victoria and Vancouver Island came during a Christmas visit when I was 10. I was mesmerized by the city. It was the first time I set eyes on the ocean. Victoria is one of Canada’s oldest cities and is reflected in the architecture. Massive Victorian and Edwardian homes, ornate decorations adorn the buildings along Government Street. And of course, the grand dame of the city, the Empress Hotel, sits proudly overlooking the inner harbour.
I marvelled at the coming and going of ships in the harbour. As a 10-year-old, the thought of seaplanes taking off and landing in the middle of a city was pure fantasy, but it was true. I watched the planes careen over the tops of the buildings along Wharf Street, almost scraping the rooftops, as they came swooping down to land.
The city made an impression that stuck. It became a part of my DNA. I hardly knew it at the time, but six years later, during another Christmas vacation trip, the same feeling swept over me as I stood looking out at the harbour. I felt at home. I felt as though I belonged to the land. I could grow old in Victoria.
It would take me 17 years to return to Victoria. By then, I was a father of two. The wife and I sold our townhouse in Calgary and took the family to the coast, all on a whim. I couldn’t take another winter in Calgary. I had to smell the sea air. I needed to hear the crash of waves on a pebbled beach. I needed green vegetation even during the winter months. We stayed three years, moving to a house on Pender Island in the second year. By the end of year three, we had reached a financial crossroads due to changes at my work. We decided to return to Calgary. At the time it made sense to be closer to family and I would be able to work out of the head office. We lasted three years.
Back to Victoria we went in May 2020. The pandemic was in full swing but somehow we made it to Victoria on short notice and without a hiccup. It was the smoothest move we’ve ever made. We spent two years in the city and then moved north to a small island off the northern tip of Vancouver Island. We rented a very large wood cabin on three acres of ocean front property for less than the rent for the apartment in the city. We spent two years living in the small coastal community, making friends and taking a very active part in the community. And then we ran into a housing crisis. The owners had decided they wanted to move back into the house and we were left looking for accommodation. Prices on Vancouver Island had reached the stratosphere during the pandemic. We looked elsewhere.
Edmonton is where we landed. Back in Alberta, some family in the city, and within driving distance of most of the rest of the family in southern Alberta.
We had sold off most of our furniture and goods and packed a Uhaul trailer with personal items to make the move. On day two we ended up having to backtrack and take a detour around the Rogers Pass due to avalanche activity. Instead of going through Calgary to visit family on our way to Edmonton, we headed north from Kamloops, direct to Jasper and then on to Edmonton. Problem was we were making the trip at the end of February, through mountain passes. The weather was fine until it wasn’t. We got caught in a blizzard, at night, along a high mountain pass. Blinding snow slamming into the windshield reduced visibility. Snow on the road made it impossible to see lane markings. Snow and ice began building up on the front of the Uhaul trailer. And then we hit a patch of ice. The trailer pulled the truck towards the ravine. We were travelling sideways down the highway. I fought the wheel and tried to get the truck and trailer righted. For a moment I thought I was about to kill my entire family. The trailer was going to pull us over the side of the mountain. Just when I thought all was lost, the trailer hit a drift of snow, bringing us to a stop, and turning us back onto the highway. After calming down the kids, I swallowed my fear and steered the truck down the road at a jogging pace. We were kilometer from the next town. I have never been more glad to see the glaring lights of a gas station in my life. We pulled in and the wife and kids went inside to collect themselves and get something to eat while I gassed up. I then went inside to the washroom and spent a few minutes fighting the urge to throw up. This should have been the sign for us to stop, but it wasn’t until we were attempting to pull out of town and the trailer again skidded out of control for a moment that we finally took the hint. I gingerly turned the truck around and we found a motel room for the night.
The next morning the sky was blue and the roads were glistening white with ice. After freeing the trailer axles from the ice that had build up around them, we headed off for Edmonton. After three hours of absolute terror travelling on pure ice and hoping the trailer did not repeat its performance from the day before, we reached Jasper. My nerves were shot and we stopped for the day, hoping the roads would be cleared in the next 24 hours. Instead, we got more snow. We didn’t even attempt to continue the journey the next morning. We spent the day in Jasper. Day four of being on the road and we were ready to make the final leg to Edmonton. We got just outside of Jasper when warning lights flashed on the dash. Steam was pouring out from under the hood. We turned back to Jasper and found a mechanic who informed us the radiator was frozen solid, causing the engine to overheat because there was no coolant reaching the engine. A thaw, flush, and fill of antifreeze and we were on our way.
We reached Edmonton as the sun was setting. We unloaded the trailer in the dark, in arctic temperatures after travelling for four days. I collapsed into a nervous wreck when the last box was in the apartment. The move to Edmonton almost killed the family on multiple occasions. The stress and physical toll almost killed me.
We laugh about it now and joke that all of these events were signs that moving to Edmonton was a mistake. We should have listened to the universe and turned back to Victoria regardless of the fact we had nowhere to live. Instead, we survived our Odyssey and discovered Edmonton was indeed a mistake. From the moment we arrived, we realized the city was not for us. Over the last two years we tried to make it our home but despite our best efforts, the city felt foreign to us. The entire family was depressed. Every day felt like we were waiting for our release from prison. This might seem an exaggeration, but now that I’m back walking the streets of Victoria, it very much was a prison. The immediate change in mood; the release of stress and tension upon leaving the ferry terminal at Schwartz Bay the definitive proof.
Victoria is our home. This is where we belong. It has taken a round trip of 12 years and three inter-provincial moves to realize this fact. A feeling of relief has washed over the entire family. There is no more wondering where we should be, what our next move should be. Our future is on Vancouver Island. Victoria is our city and will be for a very long time. There is no lingering doubt of that now. Today we begin to build the rest of our life in a city that has been in my heart for nearly 40 years, whether I recognized it or admitted it. I recognize it now and say without reservation that I love the city I live in. And for that, I’m grateful because so many people are not able to live where they truly belong and love.