I know what you want. And I'm about to provide.
We made it to the end of the road. Literally and otherwise. Last night as we were driving through the mist and the gloaming and the deepest forest I've ever seen, I looked at the map. (That's usually David's hobby.) I looked up, a little stunned, "Wow, this town is at the end of the road. There nothing more after that. Just the Pacific." David laughed. He had been laughing on and off for the past hour. Every time we went around a bend in the road and saw another incredible view he would chuckle. Proud of himself, see?
After being on the road for the last nine days, we are finally here. Across the border. Through the woods. Tucked into the rainforest. David is asleep beside me and it's almost noon.
David's trusty travel guide says that of the five wonders of Vancouver Island, one of them is getting here. I agree with Fodor. It was a wonder. A now, because I share all my wonders here, a photo essay for your enjoyment:
After spending a week driving up and down the state of Utah (much more on that later--can you stand the anticipation?) we left the mountains
and drove through the potato fields of Idaho,
under the tempermental skies of Oregon,
up through the orchards and mountains of Washington,
to board a ferry and cross the ocean
to pay homage to the Queen
before heading through hundreds of kilometers (we're in Canada now after all) of rugged mountains covered in black bears and giant trees and fog as thick as the moss
to arrive at the house at the end of the road.
David is just waking and the kids are dressed in their bright rain jackets headed for a walk through the dripping forest. The beach is not far away and they are going on a reconnaissance mission, in search of the Pacific, my own little troup of Lewis and Clarks. From my window I can see their colored backs disappearing through the trees, swallowed whole by the jungle just at the edge of the property line.
In a bit I will make some lunch and find the sand pails.
But first, some kissing.
I love Canada.