Chastised by our hosts in Quebec for not trying Poutine whilst we were there, I vowed to try some in Vancouver. More on that later, but first to West Vancouver where we were staying in the last of our family visits. West Vancouver seems to be a bit lefty/alternative with whole foods stores, plenty of green-left newspapers available for free and a laid back attitude. It’s also handy to downtown, as well as the ferry terminal to Bowen Island, one of the many islands in the archipelago of in the greater Vancouver area.
Bowen Island is where Rachel’s uncle splits his time when not in West Vancouver. For now, it’s a fairly relaxed type of place, well away from tourist hordes which head to other parts of the archipelago. There’s some stunning bays and plenty of natural forest to appreciate, studded with clusters of dwellings, farms, shops and galleries which all combine to make a quite a coherent community fanning out from the ferry dock. The first real blatant overdevelopment has just seemed to be kicking off, which is a shame as the mood of the place may suffer as a result. We went for a hike on the remotest part of the island which looks out through the forest and across beaches and coves to some untouched islands further of the mainland. As stunning as this was, it was topped off by the killer whales which we saw just off the shore as we were about to leave.
Whilst the downtown area of Vancouver is fairly generic, it’s compact and surrounded by some great districts including Stanley Park, a large park on the harbour which we cycled around, and Gastown which is the old town, like The Rocks but less polished and touristy.
Granville Island is a small island in the middle of the urban area, accessible by the ultracool Aquabus, famous for both its public market and its artisan community: (including a maker of shaker style brooms in any number of sizes, and a sake producer) . We had signed up for a tour of the public market which gave us an insight into Vancouver’s food scene which, similar to Sydney, is derived from access to fresh produce and the influence of many of the immigrant cultures which have settled there. Samples we got to try on the tour included aniseed-infused salami, fresh donuts, cardamom flavoured chocolate, raw milk cheese, maple cured salmon and some delicious masala chai.
Poutine is the killer app of fast food: It’s a base of french fries topped with cheese curds and smothered with gravy. There’s something deliciously wrong about eating it. I can say I’ve had it now, enjoyed it and never need to have it again!
A hell of a journey got us across the border into Portland. We were booked on the Amtrak train which follows the coast. There was a fault with the locomotive, which took hours to fix, and then we were booted off the train onto a bus halfway through in Seattle to join the hordes on the freeway. The truncated train ride was great, but the delay and unexpected bus trip had us haggard when we finally got to Portland. Heading straight to the bar after checking in, our spirits lifted straight away as there was some amazing live music playing – Two folk singers: one up and coming, the other grizzled and established for decades were alternating songs in the basement bar of the Crystal hotel. It was a smallish crowd in a tiny room, but that was just perfect for the act which just blew us away!
Portland is a great place. Whilst you couldn’t call it ‘pretty’, it has a great vibe, is walkable and cycleable and is home to an edgy culture where everyone we met was friendly with a hint of attitude against anything which might drag them down like bad town planning, bad coffee and possibly the shallowness of Californians, if that makes sense. The place seemed to attract a lot of people from other parts of the US, looking for a better deal.
Getting around was fabulously easily on the tram system which is constantly being expanded (seeding urban renewal along its tendrils), and they have basically trashed the riverfront park because of the festivals which were held there over the last month to celebrate the start of summer. Microbreweries abound on seemingly every street corner, and food trucks squeeze into any leftover space. Am I gushing? Probably, as we had such a great time there.
We hit a couple of institutions: Powell’s Books, ‘the largest independent used and new bookstore in the world’ was, as they say, huge. It’s a rabbit warren of different rooms, relatively easy to navigate but dangerously easy to get trapped in because of the quantity of great books they stock. Clyde Common was a restaurant recommendation from a local, and we managed to time it to be there during Portland Dining Month, so we ate both well and cheaply. McMenimans has made a name out of restoring or adapting a number of historic buildings as music halls, bars, hotels (including the Crystal Hotel mentioned above) and assorted cultural venues, including the Mission Theatre where we watched a showing of an archivists collection of classic beer commercials. You get the picture.
All too soon, we had to leave. Heading out from Portland, we passed through steep-sided valleys covered with fir trees receding in the mist until we hit the Pacific Ocean shore. Turning south, we started the drive down the coast along Highway 1. This is a gorgeous part of the world, and includes numerous stretches of beaches, sleepy harbour villages, craggy headlands, art deco era bridges, andseafood chowder by the bucketload. The first day’s drive took us to Florence, an historic fishing port with quaint white weatherboard buildings. Whilst still on the way we heard a strange wailing which we later realised was the sound of Elk baying. It was a haunting sound, like the sound of whales calling.
The coast South of Florence is a series of towering sand dunes. Climbing up them is hard work but totally worth it as they are such a unique, beautiful ecosystem. The dune system is really well managed by the National Parks system and we were totally blown away. It wouuld be hard to see how the coast drive could improve once we crossed the border into California..
