This is part of my story of how I came to live on the West Coast and was lead to being a carver by a giant tree. Taking you back to February of 1985, I had just arrived from the freezing cold of an Edmonton, Alberta winter to the temperate, moist environment of Vancouver, BC. The very day I arrived, only a few blocks from the train station, I spotted a poster of the “Hanging Garden Tree” – a sight the likes of which I had never seen before. It was an environmental action plea to save the stand of old-growth cedar giants on Meares Island – off the West Coast of Vancouver Island, near Tofino in Clayoquot Sound – as these giant cedars were being threatened by logging. The poster of this immense tree showed 35 children stretched around the perimeter, holding hands – capturing its immensity! This image literally stopped me in my tracks.

I was about to start a new job working in a bicycle shop (being a bike mechanic and parts person by trade at that time). It wouldn’t be until the fall that I’d get time off from work and make my first cycling trip over to Tofino on Vancouver Island (about 210 kms away) in search of Meares Island and the giant tree. It was November and rainy, of course, when I set off for Tofino. Arriving a few days later with all my gear soaking wet I spent a good deal of my time and the money I’d brought drying out my clothes and gear at the local laundromat. I stayed a few nights on local beaches getting soaked to the bone and was back at the laundromat again drying out my clothes and gear. It was my first experience of the West Coast of Vancouver Island and being November, the rain was pretty much relentless! I was unaware that I’d need to pay a water-taxi $20 to get me across to Meares Island and now with scarcely enough money to buy my supplies and meals and pay for the ferry back to Vancouver, I reluctantly abandoned my plan to see the giant tree in person.

I left Tofino and headed down the highway to return home. Five kilometers outside of Tofino a side road appeared and I felt my handlebars mysteriously pull to the right. I found myself heading down Chesterman’s Beach Road. Moments later, a man appeared out of a driveway. Seeing me approach, he raised his hand like a stop sign or perhaps a greeting of some sort. Either way, I came to a stop and engaged in conversation with him. Telling him of my quest to see the giant trees – my reason for biking out to Tofino – he told me that he had a canoe and would gladly paddle me over to Meares Island. We arranged to meet the following morning.

When I arrived the tide was slack and we easily negotiated our way across the channel. Reaching the island, he showed me the trail-head and pointed me in the direction of the big tree. I headed off on the trail on my own. Now amongst the towering giants along with thick salal and huckleberry bushes, I clambered along a narrow boardwalk interspersed with boot-soaking boggy patches and enormous fallen trees. I was in a rainforest and it filled me with wonder and filled my lungs with the most amazing air! Eventually I reached a sliver of wood pointing up in the air with the title, “Hanging Garden Tree”. Words are hard to find to describe and many superlatives could be used to describe this stately giant stretching into the sky. I can only say, I was in awe… Much to my surprise and delight as I approached the giant tree I found a small crevasse in its roots that allowed access to its inner space. Crawling on my hands and knees, I entered into the sanctuary of this ancient beauty and sat for some time breathing in the wonderful humus smell of its decaying trunk. It is a moment that I will never forget.

I spent that night camping out on Meares Island and was visited by wolves in the night. I could hear them sniffing around my tent. Somewhat panicked, however I remained calm and they left. As day broke, I hiked up a logging road where I heard a carcass being torn apart. I assumed it must be the wolves or possibly a cougar. It was a sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before. Aware of the danger I was in by encroaching on this territory, I quietly retreated. This would mark my the first encounter with wildlife on the West Coast and in time, there would be many more. I would keep in touch with this funny man, Mr. Poole, I met on the road and on a subsequent trip he would introduce me to the activity that would consume decades of my life. That’s another story… stay tuned!