The Journey
You were told to keep your eyes peeled for the sign that leads to the end of the road. If you miss the exit you are stuck on highway 19 for at least another ten kilometers without the option of turning around. Apparently this has happened on more than one occasion to excited tourists making the journey to Vancouver Island’s West Coast. Some end up in Port Hardy on the North Island before they realize their mistake, but not you, you’ve been warned.
The car is packed for the long awaited adventure, after going through the mental checklist of gear and supplies--tent, wetsuit, surfboard, bear spray, sleeping bag, you are certain not a detail has been overlooked. You’ve been meaning to visit Tofino since you heard about it years ago, but finding the time has been the main reason for your hesitation. Besides, it’s not exactly the easiest place to get to. It’s not somewhere you can stop by en route to somewhere else, or check out on a quick day trip, it takes some commitment. Tofino is a small village quite literally located at the end of the road, where the Trans-Canada Highway comes to an end and the next major stop is Japan--across the Pacific Ocean. People don’t just pass through the end of the road, they venture there for a reason, with a purpose. Your purpose it simple, to take it all in, to meet interesting people, see interesting sights, and to get a feel for the place.
You ultimately seek to understand visitors' emotional attachment to Tofino and the surrounding area, a concept known as ‘sense of place’. A sense of place, as the phrase suggests, emerges from the senses. Aspects of place can be experienced kinetically, as well as visually and through the other senses as well (1). What is it that attracts people to the area, what feelings does it conjure, what do they do there, and what keeps them coming back? After all, it's just a 'place' like any other, right? A place, as opposed to a space, involves meaning, involvement, and belonging (2). It's not just a location on a map, with specific coordinates, boundaries, and a unique name; it's about connections, its people, its past, its future (3). Because places are experienced subjectively, countless meaning can be granted to the same place marking it with openness and change as opposed to rootedness and permanence (4). You are excited by this investigative journey to the wild west coast.
The approaching sign comes into view and reads Bamfield, Tofino, Ucluelet, Next Exit. You eagerly flick on your turning signal and quickly get oriented on the new west-facing road that extends before you. You pass farmers' fields, dilapidated barns, and boarded up storefronts that look like they once thrived in a past era. Traffic begins to make itself scarce and tall lush green trees line the two-lane highway.
After about 40 minutes you come to a beautiful flat stretch of road that hugs the shore of pristine Cameron Lake. The lake is like glass, reflecting a near perfect mirror image of the towering ancient trees. You press your foot to the brake in awe as you enter Cathedral Grove, a protected section of old-growth Douglas-fir forest. The sheer size of the majestic pillars is unlike anything you have seen before and you instantly feel transported into another world. The mid-morning light is barely able to penetrate the thick dense network of foliage, creating a false sense of looming dusk.
The magical forest quickly fades behind you as you climb towards the Port Alberni Summit and descend the 6 km into the Alberni Valley. After passing through the city center, fraught with the contrasting commercialism of past and present you take a right at the end of the road. A sign says Tofino 120 km.
The road passes Sprout Lake then winds along the crystal clear Taylor River before commencing the ascent into the mountains of Sutton Pass. Clear cut mountainsides, like graveyards act as a reminder of the prominence of logging in the areas recent past. You crane your head and press your face against the window in attempt to get a complete view. It's easy to forget you are on an island with the towering peaks and vast blue sky spread before you.
Soon the road narrows as it dips and swerves keeping you on the edge of your seat, ready to react at any instant. You’ve heard stories of this stretch of road between Port Alberni and Tofino; some describe it as tortuous others as exhilarating. Whatever it is, it’s anything but boring. To your left is a solid wall of jagged black rock trickling with little rivers of moisture from a recent rainfall, to your right a sheer drop off. You pass a yellow sign warning of a 90-degree turn ahead, pleading drivers to take caution and slow down. You obey, carefully hugging the solid middle line and clutching the steering wheel so tight your knuckles appear white. You imagine driving this as a gravel-logging road before it was paved in 1972, and instantly get queasy at the thought. Who were those mad nature-loving adventure enthusiasts? Surely this drive alone makes a visit to Tofino an adventure, no matter what you do when you get there. It’s like a test of nerves and will. It’s like a gauntlet that must be passed, a gateway to the other side.
It seems you’ve made it through the toughest part. As you descend to Kennedy Lake your heart rate slows and your squinting eyes begin to relax, able once again to concentrate on the natural beauty that surrounds you. Before you know it you come to a T–junction with the option of turning left to Ucluelet 8km, or right to Tofino 32km. You choose the latter, just because it feels even further.
The road is straight and relatively flat. There is little to see but trees on either side. There is the odd sign for nature trails, a campsite, or beach access, but no ocean is visible from the road. Somehow you imagined driving beside an open stretch of beach with the windows down and radio blaring. Clearly you had it wrong. Suddenly, as you turn a corner, you get a glimpse of that image you held in your mind. From the top of a hill you can see what you believe is Long Beach below. Through a slight misty haze you see the waves crashing on an endless stretch of white sand beach, the Pacific Ocean extending to the west as far as the eye can see. Too soon the view is gone, covered by trees as you descend the steep hill.
Minutes later you pass a sign that states Long Beach, but don’t have enough time to make the turn. You carry on down the highway with intentions of turning around as soon as possible; you are overflowing with excitement to get onto that beach and into the fresh damp air. Just ahead another sign reads Incinerator Rock. You crank the wheel to the left without signaling.
Back on the road you feel invigorated and refreshed. Only 17 kilometers until the Trans Canada Highway comes to an end and land abruptly changes to water. You decide you need some more beach time before you explore the town of Tofino. Luckily your map indicates South Chesterman Beach is just ahead, a quick stop is in order.
Having failed to realize the early hunger pangs and light grumbles your stomach was alerting you of, you find yourself famished and in need of some sustenance fast. Just down the highway from Chesterman Beach a small commercial area appears with a rustic sign listing the businesses and services. One reads Tacofino, you pull in.
After rigging up camp at your beachfront site in Bella Pacifica Campground, it is nearly dusk. The setting sun is casting brilliant streaks of orange and pink across the horizon, creating a glow that radiates off the calm ocean waters. The nearly full moon has already staked out its place, waiting for its moment to dominate in the quickly approaching night sky. You decide you’ve had a long day. Town will have to wait for tomorrow.
Back on the road the next morning, you carry on down Highway 4 until you reach town and come to a four way stop. Apparently you are now on Campbell Street. While idling you take the opportunity to check out the scene around you. A cute but modest cafe with a large bustling patio of people; a surf shop surrounded with racks of colorful over-sized soft-top surfboards; an ice cream shop and hotdog stand that has yet to open its doors for the day; and a few retail stores selling outdoor gear, health food, and adventure tours. The streets are relatively quiet but a few early risers saunter slowly along the sidewalk bundled in hoodies and jackets. The mild September sun is not yet high enough to warm the damp cool air that clings to any exposed skin. Just a bit further down Campbell Street after the candy shop and scooter rental business you spot your first stop of the day, the Roy Henry Vickers art gallery.
You decide to keep the car parked and carry on walking through town. It’s time to find some breakfast and more importantly, a coffee. You arrive at a flashing red stoplight and realize it’s the first stoplight you’ve seen since Port Alberni yesterday afternoon. While chuckling at this fact, you get a faint but undeniable waft of fresh baked bread. The sweet, heartwarming aroma fills your nostrils and instantly makes your mouth water with longing. Following your nose, you turn left in search of the source of this delectable scent. Only a hundred meters ahead you find the Common Loaf Bakery.
Equipped with a second coffee in hand you wander towards the water. At the bottom of the hill you come to First Street Dock. There is an official sign announcing the western terminus of the Trans Canada Highway. You walk out on the dock in a trance like state, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful scene before you. The snow-capped mountains of Strathcona Park stand boldly in the distance and historical Meares Island and the First Nations village of Opitsaht lay just across the harbor. You have made it to the end of the road.
Sitting on the edge of the dock you lean against a battered piling and reflect on the past 24 hours. You consider all of the unique characters you met, the surfer, the academic, the environmentalist; each had their own stories, each had their own unique attachment to this place. They really couldn't have been more different. What attracted one repelled the others --like Tofino's surf scene and the chaotic 'vibe' of the summer season. Some had long histories of coming to the area, as early as they could remember, others just recently formed a bond with the place. None of them called this place home, none were 'locals', however they felt as if they somehow belonged even as outsiders. These outsiders sense of place is no less valid or inauthentic than the permanent resident. All places exist somewhere between the inside and the outside views of them, the ways in which they compare to, and contrast with, other places (5). Everyone is entitled to their own perspectives and experiences. For these reasons places are never complete, they are never finished, they are never permanent. Places are in a constant state of flux, always in a process of becoming; they are a never ending process (6).
"Each time we enter a new place, we become one of the ingredients of an existing hybridity, by entering that hybrid,
we change it." (7)
-THE END-
.
The car is packed for the long awaited adventure, after going through the mental checklist of gear and supplies--tent, wetsuit, surfboard, bear spray, sleeping bag, you are certain not a detail has been overlooked. You’ve been meaning to visit Tofino since you heard about it years ago, but finding the time has been the main reason for your hesitation. Besides, it’s not exactly the easiest place to get to. It’s not somewhere you can stop by en route to somewhere else, or check out on a quick day trip, it takes some commitment. Tofino is a small village quite literally located at the end of the road, where the Trans-Canada Highway comes to an end and the next major stop is Japan--across the Pacific Ocean. People don’t just pass through the end of the road, they venture there for a reason, with a purpose. Your purpose it simple, to take it all in, to meet interesting people, see interesting sights, and to get a feel for the place.
You ultimately seek to understand visitors' emotional attachment to Tofino and the surrounding area, a concept known as ‘sense of place’. A sense of place, as the phrase suggests, emerges from the senses. Aspects of place can be experienced kinetically, as well as visually and through the other senses as well (1). What is it that attracts people to the area, what feelings does it conjure, what do they do there, and what keeps them coming back? After all, it's just a 'place' like any other, right? A place, as opposed to a space, involves meaning, involvement, and belonging (2). It's not just a location on a map, with specific coordinates, boundaries, and a unique name; it's about connections, its people, its past, its future (3). Because places are experienced subjectively, countless meaning can be granted to the same place marking it with openness and change as opposed to rootedness and permanence (4). You are excited by this investigative journey to the wild west coast.
The approaching sign comes into view and reads Bamfield, Tofino, Ucluelet, Next Exit. You eagerly flick on your turning signal and quickly get oriented on the new west-facing road that extends before you. You pass farmers' fields, dilapidated barns, and boarded up storefronts that look like they once thrived in a past era. Traffic begins to make itself scarce and tall lush green trees line the two-lane highway.
After about 40 minutes you come to a beautiful flat stretch of road that hugs the shore of pristine Cameron Lake. The lake is like glass, reflecting a near perfect mirror image of the towering ancient trees. You press your foot to the brake in awe as you enter Cathedral Grove, a protected section of old-growth Douglas-fir forest. The sheer size of the majestic pillars is unlike anything you have seen before and you instantly feel transported into another world. The mid-morning light is barely able to penetrate the thick dense network of foliage, creating a false sense of looming dusk.
The magical forest quickly fades behind you as you climb towards the Port Alberni Summit and descend the 6 km into the Alberni Valley. After passing through the city center, fraught with the contrasting commercialism of past and present you take a right at the end of the road. A sign says Tofino 120 km.
The road passes Sprout Lake then winds along the crystal clear Taylor River before commencing the ascent into the mountains of Sutton Pass. Clear cut mountainsides, like graveyards act as a reminder of the prominence of logging in the areas recent past. You crane your head and press your face against the window in attempt to get a complete view. It's easy to forget you are on an island with the towering peaks and vast blue sky spread before you.
Soon the road narrows as it dips and swerves keeping you on the edge of your seat, ready to react at any instant. You’ve heard stories of this stretch of road between Port Alberni and Tofino; some describe it as tortuous others as exhilarating. Whatever it is, it’s anything but boring. To your left is a solid wall of jagged black rock trickling with little rivers of moisture from a recent rainfall, to your right a sheer drop off. You pass a yellow sign warning of a 90-degree turn ahead, pleading drivers to take caution and slow down. You obey, carefully hugging the solid middle line and clutching the steering wheel so tight your knuckles appear white. You imagine driving this as a gravel-logging road before it was paved in 1972, and instantly get queasy at the thought. Who were those mad nature-loving adventure enthusiasts? Surely this drive alone makes a visit to Tofino an adventure, no matter what you do when you get there. It’s like a test of nerves and will. It’s like a gauntlet that must be passed, a gateway to the other side.
It seems you’ve made it through the toughest part. As you descend to Kennedy Lake your heart rate slows and your squinting eyes begin to relax, able once again to concentrate on the natural beauty that surrounds you. Before you know it you come to a T–junction with the option of turning left to Ucluelet 8km, or right to Tofino 32km. You choose the latter, just because it feels even further.
The road is straight and relatively flat. There is little to see but trees on either side. There is the odd sign for nature trails, a campsite, or beach access, but no ocean is visible from the road. Somehow you imagined driving beside an open stretch of beach with the windows down and radio blaring. Clearly you had it wrong. Suddenly, as you turn a corner, you get a glimpse of that image you held in your mind. From the top of a hill you can see what you believe is Long Beach below. Through a slight misty haze you see the waves crashing on an endless stretch of white sand beach, the Pacific Ocean extending to the west as far as the eye can see. Too soon the view is gone, covered by trees as you descend the steep hill.
Minutes later you pass a sign that states Long Beach, but don’t have enough time to make the turn. You carry on down the highway with intentions of turning around as soon as possible; you are overflowing with excitement to get onto that beach and into the fresh damp air. Just ahead another sign reads Incinerator Rock. You crank the wheel to the left without signaling.
Back on the road you feel invigorated and refreshed. Only 17 kilometers until the Trans Canada Highway comes to an end and land abruptly changes to water. You decide you need some more beach time before you explore the town of Tofino. Luckily your map indicates South Chesterman Beach is just ahead, a quick stop is in order.
Having failed to realize the early hunger pangs and light grumbles your stomach was alerting you of, you find yourself famished and in need of some sustenance fast. Just down the highway from Chesterman Beach a small commercial area appears with a rustic sign listing the businesses and services. One reads Tacofino, you pull in.
After rigging up camp at your beachfront site in Bella Pacifica Campground, it is nearly dusk. The setting sun is casting brilliant streaks of orange and pink across the horizon, creating a glow that radiates off the calm ocean waters. The nearly full moon has already staked out its place, waiting for its moment to dominate in the quickly approaching night sky. You decide you’ve had a long day. Town will have to wait for tomorrow.
Back on the road the next morning, you carry on down Highway 4 until you reach town and come to a four way stop. Apparently you are now on Campbell Street. While idling you take the opportunity to check out the scene around you. A cute but modest cafe with a large bustling patio of people; a surf shop surrounded with racks of colorful over-sized soft-top surfboards; an ice cream shop and hotdog stand that has yet to open its doors for the day; and a few retail stores selling outdoor gear, health food, and adventure tours. The streets are relatively quiet but a few early risers saunter slowly along the sidewalk bundled in hoodies and jackets. The mild September sun is not yet high enough to warm the damp cool air that clings to any exposed skin. Just a bit further down Campbell Street after the candy shop and scooter rental business you spot your first stop of the day, the Roy Henry Vickers art gallery.
You decide to keep the car parked and carry on walking through town. It’s time to find some breakfast and more importantly, a coffee. You arrive at a flashing red stoplight and realize it’s the first stoplight you’ve seen since Port Alberni yesterday afternoon. While chuckling at this fact, you get a faint but undeniable waft of fresh baked bread. The sweet, heartwarming aroma fills your nostrils and instantly makes your mouth water with longing. Following your nose, you turn left in search of the source of this delectable scent. Only a hundred meters ahead you find the Common Loaf Bakery.
Equipped with a second coffee in hand you wander towards the water. At the bottom of the hill you come to First Street Dock. There is an official sign announcing the western terminus of the Trans Canada Highway. You walk out on the dock in a trance like state, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful scene before you. The snow-capped mountains of Strathcona Park stand boldly in the distance and historical Meares Island and the First Nations village of Opitsaht lay just across the harbor. You have made it to the end of the road.
Sitting on the edge of the dock you lean against a battered piling and reflect on the past 24 hours. You consider all of the unique characters you met, the surfer, the academic, the environmentalist; each had their own stories, each had their own unique attachment to this place. They really couldn't have been more different. What attracted one repelled the others --like Tofino's surf scene and the chaotic 'vibe' of the summer season. Some had long histories of coming to the area, as early as they could remember, others just recently formed a bond with the place. None of them called this place home, none were 'locals', however they felt as if they somehow belonged even as outsiders. These outsiders sense of place is no less valid or inauthentic than the permanent resident. All places exist somewhere between the inside and the outside views of them, the ways in which they compare to, and contrast with, other places (5). Everyone is entitled to their own perspectives and experiences. For these reasons places are never complete, they are never finished, they are never permanent. Places are in a constant state of flux, always in a process of becoming; they are a never ending process (6).
"Each time we enter a new place, we become one of the ingredients of an existing hybridity, by entering that hybrid,
we change it." (7)
-THE END-
.