The Pacific Marine Circle Route

Botanical Beach

Moiya, David and I have never driven The Pacific Marine Route.

We had been told by the woman at the Tourist Information Centre that we should go at low tide.
She had provided us with the low tide times and we had worked the hours backward to know that we should leave home at 7 am to get there. 

Everything is beautiful in Victoria.
Cherry blossom buds are pink on the branches of trees. The weeping willows are showing that chartreuse colour on just before they leaf out. Early Saturday morning the roads are clear. We passed a serious bicycler, he was wrapped in black plastic, as was all of his gear that was tied to his pack.

The tourist information woman told us she had gone to Botany Bay with her friends. She told us that it was only a short walk to the first bay, and a little longer one with a boardwalk that had recently been refreshed, and then a small scramble over some logs to the beach.

Between Dave and me, you can see the height of 
the rock we climbed just around 
the corner of this cove.

While I was doing the small scramble I was thinking about Wyona and wondering if shse could have made it. In fact, I was wondering about myself, if I could have done the walk alone, David having to steady me every step of the way. The bonus part is that I did take along my walking sticks and in about the first 700 metres of the trail, I knew I had full value from them. There are so many things to say about Botany Beach, and then the next beach over, the Big Wave Beach. We watched the surf pound against the rocks in the bay, sometimes splashing with great fury upwards, then the small drops falling and being picked up by the surge of the wave after it. The water ran down the crevices like small waterfalls. Dave climbed to a high peak to watch far out to the ocean. That is what he said he wanted to do. Watch the waves in the ocean. I told Moiya if that is his wish, she should be going on cruises with him. Moiya and I looked in the small pools of water for aenomenes and for star fish. I picked up some shells that were lined with blue iridescent colours, tucking them in my purse, then taking them out and putting them back on some other rocks after seeing a sign suggesting that those of us who love shells, leave them behind so that hermit crabs won’t loose their homes.

The woman at the tourist centre had told us that she had packed a picnic lunch and brought it to the beach. Her friends wanted to eat in a restaurant instead. This would never be the case with me if Moiya, were bringing the picnic basket. She served chicken salad, slices of home made bread, grapes, a mango drink, the Costco Asian salad and lots of oranges. Only a very upper end restaurant would be able to match that.

David holding Moiya's walking stick.

The woman at the tourist centre had warned us – stay 10 feet away from the ocean. You don’t want to be one of the people who gets pulled back into the sea from a sudden wave. I thought about the number of people I have seen in the middle of the lake on light craft when a storm was threatening and I am always amazed why they haven’t watched the signs in the sky and come in. So my heart was going pretty fast when a wave did come in, as we were in a small cove. Suddenly the water looked waist deep to me, between us and the cove we had just come from. I looked at my dry shoes and then at the high of the water and I decided to just pitch through it when it was only waist deep instead of waiting until the next wave which I was sure was going to be at least shoulder deep. I moved around the bend and no one could have stopped me. I came out only being wet from my knees down. Moiya and Dave followed me, mostly with Moiya calling out to Dave to save me if I went down. Then we watched the wave subside. It went out to sea leaving plenty of space for us to have walked around that corner. Too late. All three of us were soaking wet, at least from the knees down. The walk back to the car was less pleasant, water squishing in our shoes at every step and I haven’t had the occasion to finish an afternoon off by wearing wet jeans for a long time.

This picture reminded me of the height
of the cover we were in.

Moiya and I dried out our feet on the way home, blessing the hot air vent.

Dave, having to drive, left his shoes on and this morning he was showing me that his runners were still on the vent, drying out from yesterday.

He had some shiny brown brogue shoes on for church.

I commented on their beauty.

He said they were his father’s.

I said that his dad had kept them in good condition. 

“Nope,” said David, you are seeing the shine that I put on them. They were pretty well beat up when they came into my possession.”

I bought these walking sticks at Coscto.

A godsend.

Worth every penny.

Wanting to finish off the Pacific Marine Circle Route to make a perfect circle instead of circling back on ourselves, , we kept driving, passing the Fairy Tree which we had read about in the literature.

 The park was closed. We stopped there. Moiya and I were too wet and cold and tired to walk in.

David went around the barrier gate and to the lake to see a small bonsai tree growing out of a log.

He said he couldn’t get a good picture, but he reported to that there was an illegal camper at the edge of the lake.

We drove on at which time David pulled over to the side of the road alongside other vehicles. “There it is,” he said. “Other people are taking pictures of it and it is purely visible from the road.” We also stopped in Cowichan to see an oudoor museum of old box cars that we used to see on the railroad track not so many years ago. The kind the hobos used to hitch a ride in. And there were many logging machines that used to run on tracks. David was in heaven and Moiya and I sat by the Cowichan River and rested a bit more.

We were home in time to study our Tourist Guides again. We don’t know if we should go to Port Hardy, to Tofino or stay close to home and visit the potholes in Sooke or drive to a ferry and see Salt Spring Island. We haven’t exhausted out choices yet.

Arta