Alongside the Aqua Chautauqua Circus on their “Salish Sea Watershed; 100 Years from Now” journey of education, service, potlucks, and entertainment, we invited people to imaginate the future and send something back.

Inspired by Rob Hopkins’ How to Fall in Love with the Future and Ayana Elizabeth Johnson’s What if We Get it Right?, we breathed deeply, anchored ourselves to the Earth’s core, time and place, then reached out to the Universe of stars and beyond!

The table we were all holding began to shake and I talked us forward decade by decade, through wormholes, with gravitrons bending time and whipping around the sun at warp speed!

Whumpf, we arrived in 2126. Our eyes still shut, we silently explored a future where we “got it right”. After we returned to the present, we drew and wrote impressions on postcards from the future. Fifty-four postcards returned home with me.

One hundred years from now, salmon and whales thrive. Clean energy. Music. Children and ancestors are honoured. Enjoyment is wealth.

Artificial intelligence instantly translates between species. We use sound machines to regulate our emotions. Others imagined much less technology.

We establish Inter-Species Councils. We abolish poverty. We ride bicycles and fly with solar wings. We grow A LOT of food. We make art.

One wrote simply, “EGO DIED.”

Most people went to the same place: restored ecosystems; simpler, abundant lives; loving, generous communities; more-than-human kinship; clean/appropriate technology; intergenerational responsibility; joy.

From the future, people thanked their ancestors for creating such a loving and healthy world.

This time-travelling experiment culminated in a stewardship gathering on Gabriola Island, where we asked four esteemed panelists: What is your ideal vision for the Salish Sea Watershed 100 years from now, and what will it take to get it right?

The future they described sounded remarkably familiar.

First, Indigenous Knowledge Keeper for the Snuneymuxw, C’tasi:a / Geraldine Manson traveled backwards through generations, telling a story about Elders protecting sacred land and receiving teachings through dreams. She described knowledge passing continuously from Elders to younger generations, and the responsibility to bring youth onto the land and water so they can continue that relationship.

Secondly, Elected Islands Trustee, Susan Yates’ vision was an archipelago where cultural and ecological systems work together; First Nations Knowledge Keepers and teachers are central; humans understand that they are not above the air, wetlands, forests and marine ecosystems; and protected areas form a lasting network across the Salish Sea. Her beautiful sequence was: “First, we learn, then we care. Then we work together.”

Then, MLA Sheila Malcolmson’s 2126 featured massive salmon returns, more herring, strong forests, more locally grown food, a more diverse community, affordable housing, community transportation and a strong preventative healthcare system. And crucially, she didn’t imagine government accomplishing it alone. She pointed repeatedly to community initiatives that governments subsequently supported: “Sometimes we do the right things in partnership,” she said.

Lastly, Michael Mascall of the Quadra Island Conservancy’s envisioned a simpler, back-to-the-land future: growing food locally, caring for local water, logging only the timber that communities need rather than exporting it, and that these islands would become examples of how people might live sustainably, informed by First Nations knowledge, within these ecosystems.

What if these Salish Sea Islands ARE experiments in futuration? There’s so much possibility here: communities working hand-in-hand with Indigenous partners; families sharing organic produce; stewardship of clam gardens, herring, whales; walking and cycling pathways expanding; creativity and so much more.

Like one postcard said, “Gabriola was one of the places 100 years ago that got it right.” Let’s begin today.

Big thanks to Paul Magid, Cindy Elliser, and Ross Newport for their collaboration on this idea!

On our second sunset, a family of Orca whales slowly swam by, following schools of jumping silver salmon. It was my first sighting of 2026—and coincidentally, World Orca Day.

We’d just watched Star Trek IV, the movie where they time travel to bring back Humpback Whales and save the planet. Today, after decades of international cooperation, Humpbacks have rebounded from 5,000 globally to over 100,000, and even Fin Whales are returning to the Salish Sea.

That midnight, I crawled out of the tent and baptised myself in the sparkling bioluminescence of the Salish Sea. The water welcomed me with bright flashes of fine-tipped light wherever my body moved.

As the sun rose, at a shady picnic table under ancient oaks, I journaled. “How can I be healthiest?” I asked with my right hand. “Be in love with the world,” wrote my left.

Serendipitously, my phone pinged with Mia Poerschke’s beautiful reflection on our Tour des Îles experience together:

“I’m starting to understand that living in relationship with the environment isn’t too different from a friendship, as they are both built on the foundation of curiosity and attention. You wouldn’t expect to know how your friend is doing without checking on them.”

If being healthy means falling in love with the world, then it means spending Quality Time immersed in Nature, along with other love languages like Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation, and Gifts…

A healthy ecosystem is a community of inter-species relationships. This summer I’ve been inspired by people who are listening to fish languages, inspiring through environmental education, and giving their time to stewardship.

Working in ecological restoration has taught me that ecosystems can never return to the past, but we can observe, listen, and we can “futurate.”

Like in Star Trek IV, our upcoming Archipelagic Futuration workshops are invitations to travel through time—but instead of returning with whales, we’ll return with stories of hopeful futures worth creating. We’ll begin this Saturday on Cortes Island with the Aqua Chautauqua and culminate at the Salish Sea Stewardship Summit on Gabriola.

After all, the future will be shaped by the relationships we choose to nurture today.

“How do I best love the world?” asks my right hand. “Take time to care,” responds my left, “Expect beauty.”

I’d already arranged my life to open this summer to boat travel and Salish Sea exploration. So, embracing my inner fool, I joined the Aqua Chautauqua, a flotilla of community-builders, clowns, educators, performers, and captains scheduled to tour Cortes, Quadra, Hornby, Denman, and Gabriola Islands over two weeks in late July.

In 2025, we visited the Chautauqua on Lasqueti, Salt Spring, and Saturna Islands for parts of their inspiring Southern Gulf Islands tour.

On each Island, they offered community service, organised a potluck, paraded with a 3m-diameter inflated Earth Ball and amateur marching band, offered workshops on all sorts of educational topics from the Doctrine of Discovery to folding a fitted sheet, and culminated in a collaborative circus performance — fun for all ages!

There are so many reasons this feels right. For one, my daughter was accepted at the Cortes Island Academy last month, she wants me to see it, and she’s performed in circuses for many years. This was something we could do together.

For another, it’s an expansion of our Archipelager Hour radio show, this substack, my involvement in the Tour des Iles and Hands Across the Water festivals, and provides a community-centred way to connect with other islanders along the journey.

Somehow, we ended up over at Brian Dearden’s on Mayne Island in June at Chautauqua Director, Paul Magid’s birthday dinner.

I mentioned wanting to dress up like an astronaut and do time-travelling workshops like Rob Hopkins in his book called “How to Fall in Love with the Future: A Time Traveller’s Guide to Changing the World.”

Synchronicity? The Chautauquans gasped because the entire show is written about coming back from an ideal future one hundred yeas from now, sharing what’s great about it, and how we got there.

So, when they asked me to coordinate workshops along the way and a Salish Sea Stewardship Summit as part of their grand finale on Gabriola for August 1, I went with it.

Other serendipities are reaffirming. This past weekend, colleagues from my distant past randomly sailed to Salt Spring from the San Juans and are keen to join. They help lead the San Juan Preservation Trust and County Land Bank, along with an Environmental Leadership retreat… inspiring.

And other wonderful connections and people are emerging along the way: Cindy Elliser with the Salish Sea Institute at Western Washington University, which organised the Salish Sea Ecosystem Conferences until 2022; Susan Yates with the Islands Trust Conservancy Board, who is a story teller and environmentalist who’s lived on nearly every Canadian island in the Salish Sea; then there’s interest from the Galiano Conservancy, Nature Salt Spring... and more.

Let’s call these workshops “Archipelagic Futuration”

The goal is to envision a good path to biodiversity, health, and happiness 100 years from now. Hopefully, we’ll create a positive, creative gathering to contribute to and celebrate the great collaborative stewardship work already being done by so many across the region.

We’re not sure yet what the August first event will look like, but we’re discussing time-travelling visualisations, drawing and collaging insights onto paper haz-mat suits, and hosting extraordinary ecological thinkers and doers from across the Archipelago.

Here’s to the Fool stepping into uncertainty, with their trust that the journey itself will introduce the people, places, and ideas that the future is asking us to pay attention to.

Wanna join?

To set forth on a quest is to step into possibility and the unknown. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but my teenage kids seem to need me less and I’m ready for new work this autumn. So, I decided to follow my curiosity out onto the water to adventure, learn, connect and reflect.

Oh, and I joined the circus.

Every journey begins with a first step, and ours was a family boat ride to Saturna Island for the annual Lamb BBQ on Canada Day.

As W̱SÁNEĆ Elder May Sam sang her beautiful opening blessing, I was touched, tears streaming. At the old-timey festival, we visited with friends, volunteered in the face-painting tent, and won some prizes, too. It felt great to connect with community, and one of my heroes, MP Elizabeth May even came by.

Along any spiritual journey, one seeks signs that you’re on the right path. On the way home, it happened.

I boat a lot around these Islands for work and play, and there have been many porpoises, sea lions, salmon… but I kept waiting to see my first whale of the season, trusting it would happen at a special time.

As we neared the mouth of Navy Channel, between Mayne and Pender Islands, a lone humpback breached out in front of us — five times in a row! We cut the motor, kept our distance, and watched.

The whale pushed its body up and out of the water like a rocket, falling on its side, over and again. I read that breaching is a way to communicate with other whales over large distances — and it was a lone whale…

Was it calling out to other whales across the Salish Sea?

Why isn’t there a whale-sighting flag to alert other boaters and ferries to slow down and travel with care?

Was the whale extending an invitation from the Wild to continue onwards?

I took it as a good sign. Now, we’re back home on Salt Spring after a long day. As these two moons pass by, I’ll make time each day to write and reflect and share.

Tomorrow, more about that circus.

p.s. Cindy Elliser at the Salish Sea Institute directed me to “Be Whale Wise”, where I ordered a whale-sighting flag for our boat!

Imagine catching a small boat from Ganges—maybe even an electric passenger ferry like those now running in Norway and being piloted on the Sunshine Coast—bringing your bike along (or renting one when you arrive), and stepping onto a smooth, welcoming multi-use trail that leads you right into the heart of a village.

This isn’t just a dream. It’s a vision already taking shape.

The Salish Sea Inter-Island Transportation Society is helping lead the way through initiatives like Tour des Îles, Aqualink, and GoByBikeBC Week across Pender, Mayne, Saturna, Galiano, Salt Spring, and beyond this May–June.

Across the islands, communities are building pieces of a much larger network.

On Pender Island, CRD and Moving Around Pender (MAP) recently completed a 2 km, three-metre-wide multi-use pathway connecting Magic Lake to the school and health clinic—a major step toward safer, everyday active transportation. CRD completed Mayne Island’s 2 km trail to Miners Bay in 2025.

Here on Salt Spring, Island Pathways continues to champion the Salt Spring Trail—a 21 km walking and cycling route linking Fulford, Ganges, and Vesuvius.

This forms a key piece of the broader Salish Sea Trail Network, which connects our islands to Vancouver Island via the Lochside, E&N, Galloping Goose, Sooke Wilderness, and Cowichan Valley Trails, forming a great loop of safe active transportation infrastructure.

Learning from Our Neighbours

In recent weeks, I’ve been exploring this vision firsthand—cycling and walking through the San Juan Islands and Gabriola Island.

Last weekend, we joined the 20th annual Tour de Lopez, along with 900 other riders, for a self-guided cycling tour, stopping at every historic building and lemonade stand along the way.

Earlier in April, Gabriola Transportation Society invited a group of us trail advocates to explore forest ways, boardwalks, and the newer Village Pathway that connects school with town. Their community-installed reflective markers to protect pedestrians along the ferry hill inspired many of us, even if MoTT removed them due to snowplough interference.

Join the Conversation This Week

This movement is growing—and you’re invited to be part of it.

ASK Salt Spring (May 8, 11am–1pm at SIMS)
Join a community discussion with Island Pathways about the Salish Sea Trail Network—what the Fulford to Vesuvius “Salt Spring Trail” could look like here, and how we move it forward.

Friday Night Film & Discussion (May 8, 7–9pm)
At the Salt Spring Conservancy office at 265 Blackburn Road:

• Watch a short film about Pender Island’s pathway success

• Hear how Gabriola is engaging youth in transportation design

• Connect with fellow islanders shaping the future of human-powered mobility

Take Action: Bikes, Boats, and Beyond

You don’t have to wait for the full network to exist to start living it.

• 🚲 Register a ride during GoByBikeBC Week this May 30–June 5

• ⛴️ Buy passenger boat tickets for Tour des Iles and explore the islands car-free (bike, walk, or free shuttles on every isle)

• 🌿 Become a member of Island Pathways

• 🚶 Walk, ride, and support safer, lower-carbon transportation in your community

Because this isn’t just about infrastructure, it’s about healthier communities, stronger island connections, and a lighter footprint on the places we love.

https://www.mixcloud.com/Archipelegerz/

More of our shows, with themes of Cooperatives; Recycling; Housing & Home; and other topics featuring stories from across the Southern Gulf Islands are available on the show page, if you click that in the upper right on the Mixcloud episode site.

This coffee is served by a non-profit called the Ometepe-Gulf Islands Friendship Association (OGIFA) that sells Ometepe Coffee by the cup and by the pound at the Market, Country Grocer, Natureworks, and now freshly brewed at South End Sausage and the Mercantile in Fulford.

After volunteering with OGIFA for several years, my friend Kristi Norget and I decided to travel to Ometepe to learn more about the coffee cooperatives who grow this organic, shade-grown, fair-trade coffee. Kristi also wanted to explore her father’s role in helping found OGIFA in the late 1980s. Moreover, our timing perfectly overlapped with a visit from the Bainbridge–Ometepe Sister Island Association (BOSIA), another long-time community coffee partner. This piece reflects my personal experiences during the visit.

Walking Through Coffee Forest

One morning, we were invited to tour a coffee farm with Rafael, the Island agronomist. As we walked beneath towering trees, birds swooped overhead and howler monkeys boomed in the distance. Rafael reached out and handed me a bright red coffee berry.

“Try it,” he said.

Did you know coffee berries are sweet and taste like rosehips crossed with apricots? Coffee is actually a fruit, and we roast and brew its seeds!

Our path wandered through mature forest (about 50% shade is optimal) with dangling vines and a diverse understory, with coffee bushes spaced about 2 meters apart. This type of shade-grown agriculture protects soils while providing habitat for diversity of birds, some of which migrate annually to Canada!

Alongside healthy coffee shrubs, we also saw some bare-branched coffee plants, and others showed spotted, yellowing leaves—evidence of coffee rust, a fungal disease that has wiped out enormous areas of coffee production in Central America since around 2013.

Growing Resilience

Buying Ometepe Coffee at fair-trade rates has supported organic certification and nurseries where farmers have nurtured new, rust-resistant and rust-tolerant coffee varieties. These young plants are still being transplanted into the fields, restoring productivity while maintaining organic and forest-friendly practices.

As they begin to produce more berries, coffee exports, and long-term financial stability for families, can expand.

Deep Roots

Before leaving the Gulf Islands, I immersed myself in OGIFA’s history — reading through decades of newspaper clippings with one of the founders, Ron Pither.

In the early 1990s, OGIFA helped fund the first gravity-fed piped water system to the village of Balgüe, dramatically improving health, sanitation, and daily life. People here still speak of that water project as a turning point — a foundation upon which later successes, including coffee cooperatives, became possible.

For nearly 40 years, OGIFA has been carried forward by dedicated volunteers — each generation taking the baton and adding their own notes to the complex aroma of this shared coffee collaboration.

Sipping History

I’m writing this on the veranda of Finca Magdalena Ecolodge, a beautiful wooden colonial coffee barn once owned by the Dictator, Somoza before the revolution, and now owned collectively by 26 farming families. Behind the building, expansive coffee-drying platforms step up the hill. Coffee berries are dried, peeled, and sorted here. Nearby, Fausto uses a retrofitted barbecue to roast the coffee served at the farm.

After processing, the Ometepe organic green coffee beans from several collectives are transported by boat across Lake Nicaragua, then by truck to Corinto, before shipping north. In Canada, the beans are roasted by Serious Coffee, then bagged and labelled as “Ometepe Coffee” by OGIFA volunteers on Salt Spring before reaching the Saturday Market and local stores.

Each cup carries the labour of more than 70 farming families, the care of the Cooperativa leaders, the expertise of agronomists, and decades of friendship linking our islands.

Join Us: Feb 22 at the SSI Library

Kristi and I are excited to share some of the stories, photos, and reflections from our Ometepe trip as guest storytellers at the OGIFA Annual General Meeting this coming Sunday, February 22, 2026 at 2pm — our presentation will start just after 2:30pm — at the Salt Spring Island Library.

Come learn how your cup of coffee connects forests, birds, farmers, and island communities, and what global friendships like this “Three Islands’ Sisterhood” can teach and inspire in us all. Everyone is welcome. You’ll have a chance to taste the coffee, learn more about OGIFA, become a member, and get involved.

This week, David Jacquest invited me to guest-star on his CHIR.FM programme, Unicorn Island. We set the tone with Joni Mitchell’s You Turn Me On I’m a Radio—my theme song of the moment—a little bit corny, but the love’s still flowin’.

David’s fun to laugh with, and we covered all sorts of silly and serious, from lobster hierarchies to my work with Island Pathways, bringing together a dream team to advance the cross-island trail here on Salt Spring, from Fulford to Vesuvius. Bikerides, supportive donors, and recent yurt and garden cottage gatherings help maintain momentum through CRD Board Meetings and paperwork. We laughed about someday riding our electric wheelchairs along the future 3-metre-wide, road-separated pathway as elders!

We also touched on annual Earth Day events with Salt Spring Elementary and the Indigenous Education team at the Native Plant Garden along Rainbow Road at the Huy ch q’u Welcome Figure, carved by Quentin Harris (with hundreds of students, he says). This week, Michael Nickels and I met to make plans, and we received a grant for seedlings.

Like Joni sings:

I’m sending you out this signal here; I hope you can pick it up loud and clear.

A weekly radio show is a lifestyle. Through focused interviews, I listen more deeply to the timbre of a voice, the unique textures of each individual, and what we each have to share. It’s turned me onto the newly revived Humans of Salt Spring and Pender Island’s The Stories that Brought You Here. So far, I like exploring stories rooted in nature and season.

So, we wanted to feature the birds. The Island soundscape is alive with tweeters, from Steller’s Jays to purple finches at the bird feeder and suet these days. For more info, I reached out to the Christmas Bird Counters across the Southern Gulf Islands.

Steve Dunsmuir of Pender Island (previously Saturna) got back to me, and we all enjoyed a long conversation that ranged from environmental education to disc golf, children’s bird identification games, and his recent publications. We’ll share more about his ornithological endeavors next week. In the meantime, be sure to install the Merlin app and try listening to birdsong outdoors. We all agreed that it’s changed our lives for the better.

Over the years, I’ve admired Steve’s environmental education work (I work as a WildBC Facilitator for the Habitat Conservation Trust Foundation). As a teacher, he started SEEC (Saturna Ecological Education Centre), a high school nature-based program that my daughter Bryn attends, followed by other nature-based and science-focused school programs on Salt Spring and Pender—and it was so gratifying to start to get to know him.

He and Ryan (my co-host) share a love for disc golf. It’s a really popular low-barrier, high-joy outdoor sport around here. Steve shared how some of the best courses he’s built used creative targets like old pop bottles and a doghouse, and Ryan once built a course on Saturna using empty fire extinguishers.

Dial in the number who's bound to love you! — Joni Mitchell.

I’d hoped to join my friend Heather Michaud on Saturna Island for Wassailing, her new old-timey tradition of singing in the orchards, literally toasting the birds, and drinking to healthy apple harvests. Instead, I interviewed her over the phone about her fresh experience with this ancient English tradition.

Wassailing events are upcoming on Mayne Island (Jan 17), Victoria (Jan 31), and Sea Cider in Cow Bay (Feb 1).

With this spirit of inter-species collaboration, Ryan shared about his morning this week on the Pender Island Bluffs fixing wireless connections to the QENTOL, YEN / W̱SÁNEĆ Marine Guardian’s thermal infrared cameras that track whales through their protected zone. We touched on his work with SIMRES, to install live hydrophones to listen underwater to boat noise and whalesong, plus an underwater live-cam so that we can all watch and be inspired by colourful intertidal fish off East Point. How else might technology improve our reception to the living world around us?

Listening implies care. Already, ideas for next week are floating through my mind, like interviewing my dad, who just tried carpet bowling with other seniors at Fulford Hall for his first time.

In this first full week of 2026, I’m setting the course and this radio show is opening doors. Festivities and school vacations are calendared. The Gulf Islands National Park camping reservations open this Friday, Jan 16 at 8am. Brainstorming, we noticed low tides this week around supper time — clam chowder?

Before you know it, you’re disc golfing with a hero, coordinating Tour des Îles, or spending a rainy Saturday morning in at our library writers’ circle, drinking coffee and eating brownies, trying to make sense of it all (thank you!).

So far, the Archipelager Hour radio show is amplifying a certain shared frequency of Islander experience. In the face of global fear-mongering journalism, we can choose to turn the dial and tune into our local communities and ecosystems. Avoid static. Find good reception.

Like Joni Mitchell sings:

If your head says ‘Forget it’, but your heart’s still smoking, call me at the station, the lines are open.

Now, I’m learning to bound my caretaking and prioritize recharge through self-care and micro-adventures. I look forward to more foraging and fishing, more baths, more mornings on my porch sipping coffee and watching birds. I want to ride my bicycle everywhere and help again with archipelagic gatherings like Tour des Îles, Aqua Chautauqua, and Hands Across the Water. I’m excited for a year of love-fueled, radio-show-inspired explorations of island souls. Since it’s my first year with the boat, I’m holding a rudder toward joy, peace, connection, laughter, and celebration—toward healthy children and families. I’m following the light.

Post-holiday recovery is real and getting away from the house of chores can help. So yesterday afternoon, Ryan and I loaded our ebikes with an overnight kit and set out to Long Harbour to catch the 3:35pm ferry to Pender Island.

As we pedaled along the shoreline, sun filtered through trees and I felt a wave of relief to be leaving responsibilities behind. I sang “Born to Be Wild” at the top of my lungs as we rode — neon safety vest flapping, a wild nerd on a hippie motorcycle, invoking Steppenwolf as a kind of New Year’s prayer: “Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild!”

On adventures like this, I love bumping into beautiful island characters: ferry ticketer Howie, who’s been volunteering everywhere; Bridget and Richard, sending off aging grandparents with generosity of spirit; and Emony, working the cafeteria, who’s also a master horticulturist installing native pollinator gardens across Salt Spring. I am inspired.

“Looking for adventure, in whatever comes our way…” Lights and reflective gear switched on, as dusk fell, we rode from Otter Bay towards Magic Lake.

For 26 years, the Magic Lake Lantern Festival on Pender Island has been a beloved New Year’s Eve tradition. Organized by Three on a Tree with visiting artists pitching in, the free event brings generations together with a handmade lantern parade and magical light performances.

I’d never before experienced a giant sun effigy burned on a clear, starlit night — awe-striking and ancient — or watched gliding, line-lit kayaks dance to emotive music. These photos speak for themselves.

Afterwards, friends Rachel and Myles fed us at least 12 kinds of cheese and helped kick off my New Year’s resolution to eat a salad daily, and to pursue joy. In line with my biker anthem, we warmed up at a “BEE WILD Distillery” house-party. Following a brisk bike ride and a quick ferry to Saturna, we danced the night away and slept in a retrofitted school bus. It was a good start.

To be certain, not everything this week was light — there were heartbreaking moments. Rather than dwell on what I cannot change, I’m focused on healthy children, daily salads, enjoyment, and connection — following the light where it gathers.

The only way out of darkness is to brighten it. “Take the world in a love embrace… And explode into space!” Happy 2026!

This past week stretched from Hanukkah through Solstice and Christmas. It was jammie-packed with family, food, and celebrations. By midweek, we hadn’t recorded a thing and began to wonder what the show might feature.

Knowing we’d be live at 5pm on Friday gave me a kind of permission structure: to follow threads of curiosity and serendipity, encouraging adventure, and to boldly reach out and listen.

On Christmas Eve morning, standing in line at Francis Bread, I struck up a conversation with Jon van Tamelen about his archipelagic life and upcoming book launch. He promised an interview soon.

My inspiring landlord, David Denning of Nature Salt Spring, came by the cottage and we recorded a long conversation about his life path and sea stars in the sunshine while hummingbirds whistled about (now saved for a future naturalist episode).

Later, playing with our kids at the pool, I ran into my friend Danielle Osieck in the hot tub, recently returned from three years sailing around the Pacific with her family. She was open to an interview, soon.

Suddenly it was Thursday afternoon, with one day to go. So, with the kids at a sleepover, my sister Renee and I decided to follow-up on one of last week’s suggested adventures: the Mayne Island Japanese Garden Lights — a volunteer-run, by-donation alternative to Butchart Gardens, complete with warm drinks and cookies.

We caught the 3:35pm ferry from Long Harbour with a thermos of soup and fresh bread, and spent the evening wandering colourfully-lit pathways, chatting with long-time garden stewards, and sharing our mind-blowing psychedelic holiday glasses with strangers.

Big thanks to Ingrid and Jim Marsh for this interview—they’ve been tending the gardens for 21 years:

See the rainbow candy canes? Awesome Holiday Specs refract Christmas lights into different shapes:

After a beautiful curry dinner at The Black Cardamom, I thought I’d left my wallet in the car, so Renee covered it. But back at Village Bay, when I searched for my Experience Card, it was gone. The ticket booth attendant radioed the Salish Eagle. They had found my wallet, which I’d accidentally dropped on the car deck, and he happily handed me our tickets.

While we waited at the Mayne ferry terminal, we tucked into the warm waiting room. Soon, a couple of ferry workers joined us. Taking advantage of room’s excellent acoustics, Rosa Ripley began to sing:

When we finally boarded, a spritely woman with open arms greeted me: “You must be Robin!” She gave me a big hug, and handed me my wallet. A Christmas miracle…

Meanwhile, back on Saturna, Ryan recorded an interview with Tanja Dixon-Warren, from the SATRN-FM Hoarse Raven Theatre, ahead of the live radio play: Miracle on 34th Street they’re performing this weekend:

Friday, I phoned Danielle Osieck—and she was spontaneously free to meet at the CHIR.FM studio. We had a great time. Listen to her full interview here, including a deep stare into the eyes of a Pilot Whale.

Across these Islands, we’re connected by water, shared generosity and openness, and a certain biogeographic kinship. This new radio show is teaching me that if I ask and listen, relationships deepen, and some great stories emerge.

This Week’s Nearby Adventures

(Details & ferry logistics in this linked separate post)

• Saturna Island Radio Play (Sunday Daytrip)

• Mayne Island Japanese Garden Lights (Mon-Thurs afternoon-eve RT)

• NYE Pender Lantern Festival (Wednesday afternoon-eve RT)

• Polar Bear Swims (All Islands Thursday — with extra events on Galiano)

• Coming Soon: Jon van Tamelen Book Launch (Jan 17, 2026)

Rooted in our adventures moving amongst the islands for both pleasure and work—and inspired by this Archipelager Substack—we’re calling it the ARCHIPELAGER HOUR. Tune in on 107.9 FM on Fridays at 5pm, or listen live online at chir.fm, for short interviews and stories about island heroes, nature, and community life. We’ll also share upcoming island-hopping opportunities each week, including ferry logistics and event details.

Our first show was pretty novice — it featured some silent airspace, a cut-off song or two, and the funniest was when I forgot to turn off the microphones and Ryan boomed loudly “DO YOU WANNA TIC TAC?” and I CACKLED (according to my daughter who was monitoring the show from home and texting me our mistakes).

The show featured interviews—the first was with island-commuting students Kit and Bryn:

Followed by Sylvia Olsen of the Saturna Lodge:

Then, Julie at Truss Farm Food on Pender Island (about the amazing multi-use Schooner Way Trail being built):

And ended with ecosystem-thinkers, Drs. Tara Martin and Peter McAllister of Salt Spring—recorded aboard the Skeena Queen about local eco-cultural restoration:

We also played local tunes by Harry Manx, “Burgoyne Mermaid” by Harry Warner, along with classics like “I Am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel and “Soul of the Sea” by Heart.

For me, this show is an extension of a long love affair with islands—by bike, by ferry, and now by boat—stretching from botanizing in the San Juans, through the Gulf Islands of the Salish Sea, and north to Petersburg, Alaska, where I worked in fisheries and forestry. It’s a prompt to keep reaching out, listening, and learning.

Ryan grew up around radio. His mom, Rochelle “Rocket” Dentry, co-hosted the well-known “Joe and the Rocket” morning show on CHRX in Vancouver back in the day—and there’s even a broadcast communications award named in her memory. For him, stepping into the studio felt like a connection with her.

Between interviews and songs, we chatted about our own archipelaging families and adventures—Ryan’s constantly moving amongst the islands for work with South Island Internet, tagline: “Connecting the Gulf Islands,” and I work across the Gulf Islands School District, plus on Penelakut Island as a WildBC Environmental Education Facilitator with the Habitat Conservation Trust Foundation.

We’re both excited about our new boat, which launched simultaneously with this radio show. What adventures will come!? Please share your ideas as comments below.

This Week’s Top 3 Recommended Archipelageous Adventures:

1. Mayne Island Evening Outing: the Japanese Memorial Garden Light-Up

Extraordinary lights enhance the elegant garden, followed by dinner out—an easy island hop.

• Monday-Thursday, take the 3:35pm BC Ferry from Long Harbour (Salt Spring), or the 4:25pm Pender to Mayne, arriving 4:50pm.

• Gardens open with warm drinks and treats from 5-7pm, nightly.

• Dinner options are limited:

  • Luckily, the Black Cardamom, featuring Indian food and more, will be open until 8pm until New Years Eve.

  • On Tuesday December 23, The Mayne Island Resort at Bennett Bay is offering Fish & Chips until 8pm or TO-GO. Pre-order or make reservations leo@mayneislandresort.com or 250-539-3122 *2.

  • Monday & Tuesday, Dec 29-30, The Montrose Local will open for dinner. Make a reservation to be sure!

Late return ferry at 9:15pm (with a stop at Pender, home to Long Harbour by ~10:30pm)

2. Saturna Island Sunday Day Trip: Miracle on 34th Street LIVE Radio Show

A long day—but a goodie. A wonderful way to explore this special place.

• Take the 7:15am Sunday morning ferry from Long Harbour (Salt Spring), or 8:05am from Pender, with reserved transfer at Mayne on the 8:50am to Saturna, arriving by 9:30am.

• MAKE A DAY OF IT: In the morning, check out Boat Pass at the Winter Cove loop walk, then get coffee and delicious breakfast burritos or treats at the Saturna General Store Cafe. After that -- drive up to Mount Warburton Pike for a stunning perspective and walk on bluffs in old growth, or head out to East Point for stellar 360* views. The HOARSE RAVEN THEATRE performance is at 2pm at the Community Hall, where a warm fire and treats near the ferry. Following, park your car in line and enjoy some poutine or a go-nuts burger and a beer at the Lighthouse Pub, before catching the ferry home at 5:30pm.

• Transfers to Pender, Mayne, and Salt Spring via Fulford Harbour are available off the 5:30pm sailing from Lyall Harbour.

On Salt Spring — Saturday & Sunday visit the SSI Farmstand Light-Up Tour

Featuring a Google Map of over 40 participating farmstands, decorated and offering local crafts and treats!

For many—never having seen salmon apart from an occasional silver jumper out in the sea—it was their first exposure to the life-alchemizing fizz that emerges when neon-orange salmon eggs are stirred together with thick, white milt (salmon sperm); or the schooling silver-striped juvenile coho darting through tanks, carefully augmented with hollow logs and boulders; or the ravaged parent fish swimming tirelessly on, giving their spent bodies, rotting along the shorelines, to their young and fertilizing the vibrant old-growth forest with fish flesh.

This magical connection between land and sea, fish and people, was experienced by over 40,800 visitors to Goldstream Park in 2024 during spawning season. Several Indigenous students on our trip remarked how important these fish are to their families. Each year they gaff, share, and eat the salmon from these rivers.

Goldstream is the place where science, culture, and childhood memories collide. It is where thousands of students form their first emotional bond with salmon. It is one of the most visible, accessible, and beloved salmon education sites in southern Vancouver Island. For many, Goldstream is the salmon river. But that may change.

A River Under Threat

All this beauty—this learning, this stewardship, this ecological wonder—is threatened by a proposed $162-million-dollar Malahat highway meridian project along the steep canyon walls of Goldstream Provincial Park.

This project does not add any lanes, but it would:

• remove over 700 shade-giving trees, including old growth

• blast and anchor retaining walls into spawning channels

• destabilize slopes already prone to erosion

• alter drainage and increase polluted runoff

• degrade the cool, clean water salmon rely on for spawning

Environmental assessments show permanent loss and alteration of salmon habitat. W̱SÁNEĆ leaders warn the plan violates Douglas Treaty rights to fish “as formerly.” Scientists warn that warming waters already stress salmon; removing shade will magnify that stress.

Transportation planners want to maintain high speeds and improve safety. Indigenous leaders and fisheries scientists say the ecological cost is too high. This is the future being weighed at Goldstream.

Heroes Holding the River Together

W̱SÁNEĆ Elder Carl Olsen — Defender of SELE₭TEȽ

Since 2023, W̱SÁNEĆ Elder Carl Olsen / ZȺWIZUT has become the most visible protector of Goldstream, known traditionally as SELE₭TEȽ. Every Tuesday from 9:30am to noon, Carl stands at the river with supporters to remind the province of its responsibilities under the Douglas Treaties and to oppose this proposed $167-million Malahat highway expansion that would cut into the river’s banks. He speaks clearly: This river is sacred, and its salmon must be protected. His courage has inspired hundreds—from youth to scientists—to stand with him.

Joscilyn Jupp-Cliff — A Hatchery Hero

At the Goldstream Hatchery, volunteer coordinator Joscylin Jupp-Cliff and her team are the quiet engine behind the river’s resilience. They collect broodstock, care for eggs and fry, monitor stream health, support classroom programs, and keep the hatchery running through cold mornings and late nights. For the kids visiting, it was a lesson in devotion as much as biology.

Andrei & the Nature House Interpreters — Translators of Wonder

At the Goldstream Nature House, interpreter Andrei explained to our students how salmon navigate home from the Gulf of Alaska guided by the Earth’s magnetic field, their lateral lines, the stars, and smell. In that moment, the salmon stopped being just fish and became something stranger and more magnificent—navigators reading magnetic fields and starlight as if the planet were a Google Map only they could sense. Interpreters like Andrei turn curiosity into wonder, and understanding into stewardship.

Island Streams and Local Guardians

Visiting Goldstream with Gulf Islands kids is powerful because many of their school teachers raise fertilized eggs in tanks as part of the Salmon in the Classroom Program, with broodstock sourced from this volunteer hatchery. After caring for the young fry, children release them in creeks like Ganges and Cusheon on Salt Spring, and Lyall Creek on Saturna. Island volunteers like Kathy Reimer and Rick Jones and others have raised and released hundreds of thousands of coho and chum fry and restored and tended these salmon streams for decades. Salmon returns are increasing in these small creeks. Orcas need salmon. It’s all connected. We all need Goldstream more than ever.

A Different Vision Is Possible

Imagine if $162 million went toward strengthening hatcheries and habitat protection and restoration for salmon, empowering Indigenous stewardship, and investing in the climate-smart transportation systems we actually need (like the Fulford–Ganges–Vesuvius multi-use trail now being championed by Island Pathways).

The link is simple:
Better transit and active transportation = fewer cars on the Malahat.
Fewer cars on the Malahat = less pressure to blast Goldstream.
Less pressure to blast Goldstream = more salmon returning home.
More salmon returning home = stronger ecosystems and more food.

Our transportation choices are habitat choices. We must shift our thinking to enhance the future, not just drive faster now.

Which Future Do We Want?

Standing with students along Goldstream River, watching the battered chum splash upstream, the question became painfully clear:

If reducing collisions is the priority… couldn’t we simply reduce the speed limit?Many canyon highways—far steeper and tighter—use speed reduction paired with better signage, camera enforcement, and seasonal restrictions rather than widening into fragile habitat.

If the goal is spill prevention… couldn’t we install runoff treatment systems without removing hundreds of shade trees, blasting rock, or intruding on salmon-bearing banks?

If the goal is long-term resilience… isn’t investing in transit, trails, and rail a better solution than creating more car dependency on a climate-vulnerable mountain pass?

These are not rhetorical questions. They’re invitations to think more imaginatively, and more ethically, about the future.

What we choose now will decide whether those students one day return with children of their own to witness these fish—or whether the river becomes an empty lesson.

This piece is offered in support of Carl Olsen’s work, and in appreciation for the web of people who hold this river together.

A River We Can Still Save

Here are concrete ways to stand with SELE₭TEȽ and its salmon:

Learn & Show Up

• Join Carl Olsen’s weekly river gatherings: Tuesdays, 9:30 a.m. to Noon in front of Goldstream Park

• Learn about reconciliation and send letters on this topic:
  https://www.jamesbayunited.com/get-connected/reconciliation

Support Indigenously Led Advocacy

• Donate to the W̱SÁNEĆ Lands Trust Society

  https://supportlandback.com/

Help the Hatchery & Local Streams

• Volunteer or donate to the Goldstream Hatchery:

  https://www.goldstreamhatchery.ca/

• Donate and visit the Goldstream Nature House, run by BC Parks Foundation.

• Support Gulf Islands streamkeepers.

Contact Decision-Makers

• Write to your MLA and Minister of Transportation

• Ask for:

  • a full independent review

  • alternatives to river impacts

  • commitments to protect treaty rights and salmon habitat

Connect with Nature & Teach your Kids

• Go to Goldstream & to the Nature House! Here are some of my friend Lisa’s art ideas for your visit: https://substack.com/@creativebynatureart/p-177106988

On Saturday afternoon, W̱SÁNEĆ (Saanich) and Quw’utsun’ (Cowichan Nation) Knowledge Keepers, Parks Canada staff, Salt Spring conservation groups, and community members gathered at the Salt Spring Conservancy, thanks to Amy Ebrahimian-Baumann’s invitation, to discuss the past and future of this remarkable mariculture technology.

Throughout coastal BC, over 300 clam gardens have been recognized, but this one is amongst the largest and most actively worked-on. These rock-walled terraces once formed part of a sophisticated network of Indigenous food systems that included clam and oyster beds, reef-net anchor points, sheltered bays for cod, and on-land agriculture.

“Clam gardens were food security,” Carl Olsen / ZȺWIZUT explained. “Not just clams, but all the life the walls create.”

Walls were built to make flatter, more productive habitat for young clams, to buffer waves, and to house other edible species within the rocks themselves. Clams threaded on cedar bark were dried and traded far inland, part of a coast-wide food economy.

However, in 1927, amendments to the Indian Act made Indigenous tending of clam gardens illegal. Commercial shellfish farms and canneries followed. In the 1980s, many beaches were closed under heavy enforcement.

“We were told the beaches were poisoned,” Phil Tom / ĆILTEN, Clam Garden Knowledge Weaver, told us. “Guns were pulled on our people for doing what we’d done for thousands of years.”

These policies severed families from traditional harvest sites, and the gardens deteriorated. Walls slumped, sediments compacted, and ferry wakes eroded unmaintained shores.

Around 2013, W̱SÁNEĆ, Quw’utsun’, and other Indigenous Communities partnered with Parks Canada to begin restoring several sites. Over the past decade, Elders, stewards, and students have tilled compacted sediments, restacked stones, removed excess seaweed, added shell hash, and monitored clam abundance.

“Sea Gardens need gardeners,” said Erich Kelch, Sea Garden Restoration Project Manager with Parks Canada. “These places thrive because people take care of them.”

Monitoring shows increases in juvenile clams at the Fulford site. Research indicates clam gardens stay cooler during extreme heat events and may help reduce ferry-wake erosion — demonstrating that ancient engineering offers modern climate resilience.

Unfortunately, this long-running restoration program ends in March as Parks Canada transitions to different funding priorities. Only about a quarter of the Fulford wall has been restored, and many clam gardens across the islands remain at risk.

“What can we do to keep this partnership alive?” someone asked.

“When we work together, that’s when change happens,” SI,OLTENOT Bartleman, Principal of ȽÁU, WELṈEW̱ Tribal School, responded. “Bring the youth. Bring the schools. Teach them. This work is for the future — for their kids and their kids.”

Salt Spring residents and conservation groups expressed strong willingness to help. One idea lit up the room: a spring “Clam Fest” — with great food, music on the beach, all ages working side by side to lift and place stones and tend the clam bed, guided by Elders and Knowledge Holders. Local groups — Nature Salt Spring, the Conservancy, Fulford Marine Stewards, the school district — could join forces in a celebratory act of stewardship.

“I love that idea,” said Dion Joseph (SȾÁUTW̱ / Tsawout Fisheries), with a smile. “Let’s do it. I’ll bring the salmon.”

While planning for the next iteration of this work takes place, community members interested in helping organize Clamfest — or in supporting Indigenous-led shoreline stewardship — are encouraged to reach out to Erich Kelch, Parks Canada at erich.kelch@pc.gc.ca or by phone at 250-986-1128.

The message was clear: clam gardens are not relics, they are living food systems. They are also places where reconcili-action takes real, practical form.

As ZȺWIZUT said, “This is a fight to keep our planet safe. And it’s humbling to know there are people who care as much as we do.”

When the tide is out, the table is set – this is for all of us.

###

You can also contribute by donating to this great SȾÁUTW̱ / Tsawout land-back campaign on Salt Spring: https://ssifoundation.ca/tsawout-land-back-campaign/

Across the Gulf Islands, with few predators and limited hunting, deer and other grazers have browsed away the forest understory. The soft-leaved wildflowers and shrubs are gone, leaving only the tough survivors: sword fern, salal, nettle, and moss beneath aging conifers. Without shelter, seeds, or fruit, birds and pollinators have declined. This ecological collapse is well studied, and each island has its own twist on the same story.

Deer densities range from deer-free islets to over two deer per hectare on heavily browsed islands. On Mayne, surveys suggest 0.5–2 deer/ha—ten times what’s considered sustainable for forest and songbird recovery. (UBC researchers suggest < 0.1 deer/ha as a target.) The pattern is repeated across the archipelago: where deer and other feral grazers are dense, wildflowers and shrubs vanish.

The good news? Awareness is growing, and communities are testing innovative, collaborative solutions.

(When was the last time you walked through an indigo-petaled, blooming Camas meadow or stepped gingerly between a carpet of wild checkered-chocolate lilies and candy-pink Nodding Onion and Seablush blossoms? With all these grazing Black-tailed Deer around, diverse wildflower meadows and naturally regenerating forests have become a rare sight. The video above shows the contrast between areas exposed to grazers and fenced exclosures that protect shrubs and trees from browsing.)

Conversations with Island Experts

A few weeks ago, with high schoolers at the Saturna Ecological Education Centre (SEEC), we Zoomed with experts from Mayne, Lasqueti, and Salt Spring about this very topic, followed by a field trip with ecologists to the goat- and deer-ravaged forests of Saturna Island. Here’s what we learned:

Mayne Island / SḴŦAḴ

“Around 200 black-tailed deer could be sustainable,” says Rob Underhill, Biologist with the Mayne Island Conservancy since 2011. “Today they number in the thousands, including escaped Fallow Deer.” Raised on farms for venison, European Fallow Deer (Dama dama) have spread on Mayne and other Islands. With predators removed and hunting restricted since the late 1960s, wild and feral deer numbers have soared. Underhill emphasizes that the issue is “not just ecological but cultural—most people don’t know how to hunt and don’t really see deer as a food source.”

Lasqueti Island / Xwe’etay

“In 1860, surveyors decided Lasqueti could support ten thousand sheep,” says Gordon Scott, President of the Lasqueti Island Nature Conservancy. “Now, with over a thousand feral sheep plus deer, the forest floor is moss and with no tree seedlings, under mature Douglas fir and cedar trees.” Community members are now building exclosures and monitoring vegetation recovery to make the case for change. Rather than hunting, some people favour a wild sheep sanctuary.

Salt Spring Island / ĆUÁN

Chris Drake of Coast Alive Stewardship Services helps build fenced exclosures and restore native plants for the Salt Spring Conservancy. Within these small refuges, native shrubs and wildflowers thrive—evidence that recovery is possible.
A UBC study of 56 plots across Salt Spring Island found that protected camas bulbs grew three times larger and wildflowers bloomed twelve times more in areas protected from deer. UBC’s Tara Martin Lab estimates 4,000–6,000 deer on Salt Spring—roughly ten times the ecological limit.

Predators? “As opposed to Mayne, Lasqueti, and Saturna, there are always a few cougars on Saltspring. But, based on the poop I’ve seen, they seem to be mainly eating the invasive rabbits.” Chris notes, “Cars are deer’s main predator.”

Field Excursion on Saturna Island / ṮEḴTEḴSEN

After the Zoom call, Drs. Mary Reid and Ralph Cartar, retired ecologists, invited us to visit their property. On the drive, herds of feral goats dashed up the hillsides—descendants of animals that escaped farms a century ago.

“On the south side of the island, people detest the goats because they eat everything,” Mary explained. “Even so, they’ve become emblematic of the area—there’s even a Feral Goat Bistro at the vineyard.”

Saturna’s coastal Garry oak slopes, she says, lack many expected native plants due to intense browsing. Between 2007–2013, Parks Canada monitored paired plots on Saturna and Sidney Islands to measure grazing effects. Inside fenced exclosures, shrubs and seedlings flourished. Outside, the ground was nearly bare.

Where Sidney Island saw recovery after the removal of 1,200 fallow deer, Saturna served as the control case—proof that without active management, recovery doesn’t happen.

Inspiring Island Examples:

Across the archipelago and beyond, communities are finding ways to restore balance.

• SḰŦÁMEN (Sidney Island): Parks Canada and W̱SÁNEĆ partners are removing invasive fallow deer and replanting native shrubs. Exclosures show over 90% survival—proof the forest can rebound.

• Galiano Island: The Galiano Conservancy and Penelakut Elders’ Feed the People workshops teach respectful deer harvesting and butchering.

• Lummi Nation (Washington): Managed Indigenous hunting on Lummi and Orcas Islands maintains low deer densities while feeding community members.

• Denman & Hornby Islands: Community deer working groups coordinate controlled hunts; Denman’s 2015–18 pilot led to measurable regeneration of salal and arbutus.

• Tla’amin Nation (Texada & Lasqueti): Ahead of their Ɂəms ʔayɛ celebration, Tla’amin offered $250 per deer to local hunters, integrating cultural values with wildlife management.

• Penelakut Island: Active hunting and cultural burning continue—many gardeners there don’t even need fences.

How to Fix It:

1. Educate and Inspire.
   Share knowledge about the ecological impacts of overbrowsing. Watch Dr. Tara Martin’s talk on Hyperabundant Island Deer for a powerful overview.

2. Support Hunters and Indigenous Practices.
   Fallow deer are farmed for meat in Europe; goat is a traditional food for many in BC. Indigenous land management is based on eons of experience. It’s time to restore respectful, community-based connections with wild meat and the land.

3. Consider Farm Sanctuaries

   For the descendants of escaped farm animals, living out their natural lives in fenced farms with ample food and care could also be ideal.

4. Restore Native Plants

   In protected areas, try planting a few wildflowers and fruit-bearing shrubs to support the birds and the bees! Many nurseries carry native species.

5. Build and Monitor Exclosures.
   Lasqueti’s three-acre enclosure and Salt Spring’s fenced plots show how quickly nature rebounds when restored and protected.

6. Welcome Predators.
   Cougars and wolves play a key ecological role. Coexistence education can reduce conflict and rebuild natural balance. Salt Spring COCO (Cougar Coexistence Network) is a great resource.

7. Protect Wild Corridors.
   Keep large, undeveloped areas connected so cougars, deer, and native species can move safely, and traditional Indigenous stewardship practices—like prescribed burning—can continue.

8. Celebrate.
   Host festivals of wild foods and island biodiversity! Celebrate ecological restoration and community collaboration.

Conclusions

I think of the stark heathered hills of Scotland and Ireland—beautiful in their austerity, but really the scars of centuries of grazing. Those bare slopes were once dense, complex forests of oak and birch; The few plants that remain are unpalatable to grazers, such as wild rose, hawthorn, and nettles.

Here in the Southern Gulf Islands, we’re beginning to see the same pattern: open, simplified landscapes that look familiar to some settlers, but are in truth diminished versions of wild abundance and biodiversity.

Indigenous leaders, the Islands conservancies, and academics all agree. It will take fences, yes—but more than that, it will take courage. Courage to hunt again. To share meat and knowledge. To welcome predators. To imagine abundance instead of scarcity. Our positive role as active ecosystem stewards.

🌿 Further Reading, Listening & Watching

📚 UBC Research Summary of Deer Herbivory across the Gulf Islands
Concise explainer of how deer densities affect plants, pollinators, and birds.

🎧 Podcase Future Ecologies – “Dama Drama” A beautifully produced episode that unpacks the fallow deer crisis on Mayne Island.🔗

🦌 Video “Hyperabundant Island Deer” by Dr. Tara Martin Keynote address at the 2021 Galiano Conservancy AGM, shares bird and wildflower diversity impacts of over-browsing.

Addendum:

Lillian Underwood, a Cultural Mentor with the Tsawout Nation contacted me after I shared this article. She shared that the Aboriginal Coalition, working to end homelessness in Victoria, is seeking venison for community members. She requested to be contacted by anyone with venison to share at: 778-677-8097.

Big thanks to:

Bryn Pyper for sharing her notes from the Zoom and field excursion, to the SEEC students for their insights, to their teacher Ben Desrosiers for the podcast link and research project coordination, and to the many participants and resource people who have answered my questions and shared feedback. This field trip was funded by a HCTF (Habitat Conservation Trust Foundation) GO Grant.

Local Efforts, Shared Goals

Apple Fest launched this week, and we rode along Salt Spring Island village pathways built over the years by a small group of volunteers, including retired engineers like Nigel Denyer, my Apple Fest cycling companion. They worked behind the scenes to provide low-cost designs, surveys, and grant-based fundraising with government partners. Those gravel walking paths have changed our world for the better. The grassroots Ganges Village Trail Network story shows that most progress on pathways on small islands happens through quiet persistence and sustained collaboration.

We also rode along rural roads with no road shoulders to visit apple farms. Most drivers are considerate, and we pulled off a few times to let cars pass, but we avoided riding all the way to the Fulford Hall based on previous near-death experiences along the main spine route. Thankfully, a 20-km, off-road multi-use pathway is on the books to connect Vesuvius ferry with Ganges and Fulford ferry as part of CRD’s Gulf Islands Regional Trail Network. Salt Springers have been advocating for better cycling infrastructure for over 50 years, but this November 2025 the CRD Board will be asked to approve the Preliminary Design & Feasibility Plan for the Salt Spring Regional Trail. I wanted to learn from other islands how best to support this work.

The next day, on Pender Island, I rode alongside the future Schooner Way Trail, presently under construction. It shows what a small community can achieve with the right mix of coordination and public support. In collaboration with the non-profit Moving Around Pender (MAP), the Pender CRD Parks Commission hired a part-time trail coordinator, who secured landowner agreements, and leveraged provincial and private donations to make it happen. In just a few years, design work has turned into physical results. Just last year, the design was three-quarters done; now the first stretch is built. It’s an example of the energy that powers real change: not entirely grassroots, not entirely institutional, but human-scale and pragmatic.

On Truth and Reconciliation Day, we cycled to the Penelakut Community Gathering and reflected on the lack of equity in active transportation planning and infrastructure. One bright light is the Penelakut Island Trail system, built by tribal members, with beautiful gathering places and interpretive signage honouring culture, language, and Nature. Another is the Great Blue Heron Way, envisioned by Tsawwassen Elder Ruth Adams. She has called for a network of walking and cycling routes linking Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities across the Georgia Basin, from the Fraser and across Southern Vancouver Island. It’s a reminder that “active transportation” isn’t just about exercise or emissions; it’s also about access, history, and belonging.

Wednesday on Mayne Island, we rode the new 2.3 km multi-use trail from the ferry terminal to the Miners Bay (completed Nov 2024). Though it cost $2 million per kilometre, its effect was immediate: students, workers, and visitors are choosing to walk and cycle on the 2-meter-wide separated path, where most previously avoided traveling along the edge of that busy road. For a small island, it’s a major shift in safety and accessibility.

After a few days of heavier autumn rain prompting me to stay cozy at home, I returned to Pender today (Saturday) for their fabulous Crisp Festival and to walk the entirety of the future Schooner Way Trail with coordinator Rob Fawcett and former MLA Adam Olsen, who helped secure early support. Since my visit there on Monday, a lot has happened: the deep ditch that was being assessed for archaeological significance has now been culverted and filled, adding over 150 metres of new pathway.

As we walked, Rob shared what’s worked for them: leading with private donations and community statements of support; informal, low-pressure conversations with landowners; a lucky stockpiling of free rock and gravel that served as match for construction; and, steady, calm communication with government agencies. He offered to come to Salt Spring to share his experience — exactly the kind of inter-island collaboration we need more of.

Broader Context

The Gulf Islands’ trail-building efforts are small in scale but part of a much larger shift. Around the world, towns and cities are investing in infrastructure that supports walking and cycling as normal, safe, low-carbon modes of transport. What’s unique about the islands is how much of the work is community-led. Without municipal governments, local groups and volunteers often play multiple roles: advocates, fundraisers, negotiators, and stewards. These are practical people solving problems with limited resources, not idealists chasing perfection. The hybrid approach — community energy backed by targeted public funding — is what’s allowing progress to happen.

Other islands offer useful models. Hornby Island built much of its cross-island trail network through persistent community effort — volunteers negotiating easements one property at a time, constructing trails themselves using a converted ride-on mower, eventually linking short sections into a continuous route from ferry to beach. Denman Island’s cross-island trail followed a similar path: a decade of incremental progress, combining provincial Active Transportation grants with local initiatives. Both demonstrate that progress in small communities depends on a few committed people who maintain continuity across years and local election cycles.

Consistent Themes

Relationships drive results. Most trail progress starts with a few determined people who are willing to spend years building trust.

Scale matters. A 2 km trail on Mayne or a 1 km segment on Pender might not seem significant, but for residents, it changes daily patterns of movement, and when they connect with parks or schools, ferry terminals, or other trails, their utility is amplified.

Costs are high. Construction standards, environmental reviews, and land negotiations make these projects expensive. But cost per kilometre tells only part of the story, long-term public health and safety savings are harder to quantify. It shouldn’t cost $2 million per kilometre for a rural community to feel safe biking to school. Design standards and funding formulas must reflect the realities of smaller places.

Equity should guide investment. Small and rural communities often face the highest risks and lowest budgets. Funding programs need to recognize that reality.

Embodiment matters. Riding the route, feeling the grade, the gravel, and in-person conversations and walks together can advance projects in unforeseen way, providing motivations and insight.

Looking Forward

Each ride this week clarified a piece of what’s needed next: persistence, community support, resourcefulness and flexibility, and mutually-respectful relationships. Another challenge will be connecting these efforts and trails into something coherent, like a regional network like the Great Blue Heron Way or the Salish Sea Trail Network. I was reminded that the physical network we’re building sits within older, deeper routes — canoe passages, portage trails, and the relational geography that the Great Blue Heron Way and TrailsBC now seek to honour.

Today at The Crisp Festival on Pender, an event filled with music, arts, meaningful community discussions and artisanal demonstrations, so many people expressed their excitement about seeing their multi-use trail take form. As I was chatting with Rob, their Trail Coordinator, an elderly lady approached and told him: “Thank you so much for making this trail happen. It will change our lives and I am so proud.” Another older couple donated land and money towards the trail so that it could “Get built before we die!”

The Gulf Islands don’t need to wait for large-scale infrastructure projects to be “shovel ready.” We just need to keep advocating our enthusiasm for safer trails, donating funding and time to underline this commitment, and extending the network, one safe segment at a time — linking the paths that already exist, supporting each other across the region, keeping up our spirits and building relationships with community festivities, and continuing the slow, practical work that turns vision into everyday use.

For individual blog posts about each days ride, please see: https://gobybikebc.ca/southern-gulf-islands/

To support advocacy for multi-use pathways, donate to the Salish Sea Trail here: https://islandpathways.ca/donate/

Robin’s Substack

My personal Substack

By Robin Jenkinson

Across the Salish Sea and up the Inland Passage — from Washington State through British Columbia and into Southeast Alaska — so many of these fir-forested islands have been Home to me.

Growing up on Bainbridge Island, my best friend was Suquamish, Pacific trilliums marked May Day, and we numbed our tongues licking slugs along logging roads.

Later, at the University of Washington, I studied fisheries at the Friday Harbor Marine Labs and botany on Shaw Island, where we dredged inflated rainbow rockfish, peered at magnified cryptogrammic crusts on our bellies, and gently untangled birds from mist-nets.

For my twenty-first birthday, we kayaked to Yellow Island, a Nature Conservancy gem where prescribed burns and traditional Indigenous stewardship techniques support productive blue camas beds and an astounding spring carpet of wildflowers.

Work — and love — carried me north to Mitkof Island and the Tongass National Forest in Alaska, where I was flown into Kupreanof Island to count huckleberry leaves and assess forestry treatment impacts on deer and elk forage. I commercial-fished around Baranof Island for salmon and herring—inspired by its car-less communities like Tenakee Springs.

For the past decade, I’ve raised my children on Salt Spring Island, BC, where the seasonal rhythms of community festivals, veggie gardens, wild forests and tides — and the green values of conservation and care — feel like the perfect fit. My days are woven with home-care and locally-grown meals, ecology and education, and community organizing, from neighbourhood potlucks to the Fall Fair.

All that, plus ferry logistics. I still love the simple pleasure of a ferry ride—walking laps on the sundeck as light reflects off the water and landscape all around, and for the past year I’ve shared island life with a partner on Saturna Island.

Some of our best family memories are made each spring on Canoe Island French Camp, tucked just off Shaw Island in the San Juans, where my children practice archery, learn French, and make art, while I collage the only photo albums consistently kept for them. These nature-rich adventures, like camping each June over the Tour des Iles festival weekend, or spontaneous schooltime tenting at Ruckle Park, deepen our love of this place.

Today, that sense of connection continues through my work as an environmental educator, supporting outdoor nature learning on Penelakut, Saturna, Galiano, and here on Salt Spring through the Habitat Conservation Trust Foundation. I also organize island-hopping bike rides as a cycling advocate with GoByBikeBC, helping connect riders across the Southern Gulf Islands and beyond, while pushing for safer, greener inter-island travel.

What emerges is that, despite political borders, islanders share a culture of grassroots innovation, welcoming warmth, and colorful celebrations1. The Rural Islands Economic Partnership calls this our community-first ethos: collective decision-making, holistic well-being, and resilience through collaboration. Island life thrives when we lift one another up. While each island is distinct, together we’re connected like mossy boulders in a raked Japanese garden — idiosyncratic in form, yet clearly part of a coherent, intentionally maintained whole.

Just this summer, we visited Lasqueti Island in July — often called “the Soul of the Islands” — with its Free Store, community-constructed health clinic, shadow-puppet storytelling, and the launch of the Summer 2025 Aqua Chautauqua, a boat-traveling circus, offering community service and potlucks, and inclusive, family-friendly revelry.

Then in August, three nights glamping at the Doe Bay Resort on Orcas with my sister highlighted their community magic: food co-ops, artist collectives, new friends and innovative nature conservation.

As we gear up for sister-island festivities September 19-21 with Hands Across the Water, connecting Orcas and Salt Spring, the San Juans and Southern Gulf Islands, Salt Springers will welcome Orcasites for a weekend of festivities — a celebration of archipelaging. There’s a lot we can learn from one another.

This greater archipelago is Coast Salish territory, covered in ancient villages and reef-net fishing sites, clam and camas gardens, and traditional canoe routes that are being resurrected. Islanders know that survival and celebration depend on collaboration. Whether it’s restoring sunflower sea stars or building bike paths, or the epic festivities that bring us together, shared experiences of island life in the Salish Sea offer living lessons.

Here are a few of the most inspiring to me:

Ecological Stewardship: Restoring Keystones

It took cross-archipelago collaboration to figure out what was happening with the starfish. When Sea Star Wasting Disease swept through the Salish Sea a decade ago, no single lab, island, or country could solve the mystery. Researchers in the San Juan Islands at Friday Harbor Labs were among the first to track the rapid die-off, while divers and citizen scientists from the Gulf Islands and outer BC coast reported similar scenes of disintegrating stars. Universities, aquariums, First Nations, Tribes, NGOs, and federal agencies on both sides of the border shared data, tissue samples, and dive logs. That collective effort led to the 2025 breakthrough: a UBC–Hakai Institute study confirming that a bacterial strain (Vibrio pectenicida) was the cause. Today, citizen-science seastar surveys across the islands are showing ochre and leather star recovery along with other species. However, the recovery roadmap for sunflower sea stars, most-impacted by this disease and essential for urchin control and kelp forest recovery, involves joint captive-breeding, cryopreservation of genetic material, and coordinated monitoring across U.S. and Canadian waters. Collaboration across the archipelago is the only path to resilience.

Other recoveries show what’s possible when we work together. Western Purple Martins, North America’s largest swallow species, were down to only ten breeding pairs by the 1980s. Today, they have recovered to over 1,500 pairs thanks to volunteer-led nesting box programs on docks, in both the Georgia Basin and Puget Sound. Humpback Whales and transient Orcas have also increased across the Salish Sea due to international collaboration on habitat protection, vessel guidelines, and prey recovery. Marine conservation areas are expanding. Across every island, conservancies and nonprofits remind us that our common ground is a love of nature.

Yet some of the most important keystone actors remain absent. Dwindling kelp forests are partly the result of Sea Otter extirpation during the fur trade of the 1800s. River Otters have expanded along shorelines, but they don’t eat enough urchins to prevent the kelp barrens caused by out-of-control sea urchins grazing. Sea Otters, on the other hand, are ecosystem engineers that keep urchins in balance. They have rebounded on outer coasts since their reintroduction in the 1970s, but have not yet returned to the inland waters of the Salish Sea.

On land, the removal of Cougars, Wolves, and Bears has led to ecological collapse of Douglas Fir and Garry Oak ecosystems. Without predators, Black-Tailed Deer and other feral herbivores have multiplied unchecked, stripping understories and munching wildflowers and eroding biodiversity. Exclosures on Orcas Island, built by the San Juan Preservation Trust, have shown how quickly pollinators and wildflowers can rebound when browsing pressure is reduced. Across the Gulf Islands, Dr. Tara Martin’s UBC lab is documenting how overgrazing impacts birds, insects, and forest regeneration, and recommends controlling herbivore populations and supporting tradition Indigenous stewardship practices.

For, these Islands have have lost another incredibly important keystone presence: Indigenous peoples’ traditional stewardship. Traditional practices weren’t separate from “nature” — they were co-creative relationships. Once, Coast Salish peoples maintained biodiversity and resilient landscapes through cultural practices like controlled burns, hunting, clam gardens, reef nets, camas and berry tending and harvesting, and much more. When Indigenous peoples were displaced and their stewardship criminalized, ecosystem health suffered.

Indigenous Cultural Revival and Reconciliation

Today, the revival of clam gardens, camas cultivation, reef nets, and canoe journeys is not only cultural renewal but ecological repair. Recognizing Indigenous stewardship as a keystone force shifts the story: recovery isn’t just about bringing back missing species, it’s about restoring healthier relationships between people, plants, animals, land, and sea.

For example, Whiteswan Environmental, a Native-led non-profit, is at the forefront—supporting place-based education and cultural healing across the Salish Sea. Their vision includes a Coast Salish Tribal Heritage Field Institute, with seven longhouses in the San Juans and seven in the Gulf Islands, where generations from K–PhD learn through a “13-Moon, Mountain-to-Sea, Reef-to-Reef” curriculum rooted in Coast Salish seasonal knowledge, informed by widespread language revitalization programs.

Here are a few more impactful examples:

• On Lopez, the non-profit Kwiáht is reviving camas horticulture, helping Coast Salish food traditions bloom again.

• From the Lummi and Swinomish in Washington to WSÁNEĆ families in BC, Indigenous nations are leading a reef net revival, reintroducing a fishery once central to Coast Salish life. Washington Indigenous communities co-manage salmon fisheries and protected areas in the U.S..

• In the Southern Gulf Islands, W̱SÁNEĆ and Quw’utsun Nations are guiding clam garden research and whale stewardship.

• In the San Juans, programs like the Conservation Corps give young people pathways to care for land and sea. Youth hired by Canada Green Jobs and others, build stewardship capacity for the future.

One of the most inspiring threads is Land-Back. In Canada, SISȻENEM (Halibut Island) was returned to the W̱SÁNEĆ Leadership Council in 2021 through a groundbreaking transfer by the Land Conservancy of BC—making it the first land trust-to-First-Nation title return in Canada. On Salt Spring, the SȾÁUTW̱ (Tsawout) Nation launched a $600,000 campaign to reclaim a 2.17-acre parcel adjacent to their reserve, securing a connection to Reginald Hill Nature Reserve and offering public trail access in perpetuity.

Moreover, representing the ultimate archipelagers, every summer the Tribal Canoe Journey supports hundreds of Coast Salish paddlers who canoe together from across Washington, British Columbia, and beyond — connecting with nature and one another, landing in villages, potlatching, and renewing family ties. Imagine the sea as the roads connecting villages along the coastline edges – rather than just watery barriers to be crossed. For millennia, canoes connected the archipelago and islanders generously hosted gatherings for one another. Mobility shapes community.

Sustainable Transport and Island Mobility

Transportation is both the lifeline and the bottleneck of island life, and we’re all looking for cleaner ways to connect.

In the San Juans, innovations are already underway. Island Rides, a by-donation EV shuttle service, helps residents travel between towns without relying on private cars, reducing both traffic and emissions. At the same time, San Juan County is building out trails and bike-friendly routes, including new access to natural preserves like Zylstra Lake, showing how recreation and transport can align.

In the Gulf Islands, the vision of a cross-island pathway network is taking shape through the Salish Sea Trail Network. Multi-use routes on Mayne, Galiano, Pender, Saturna, and Salt Spring are being designed to link ferry terminals to village centers. Regionally, the Great Blue Heron Way, led by Elder Ruth Adams of the Tsawwassen Band, would connect Indigenous Reserves across the lower Fraser and southern Vancouver Island with multi-use pathways, reviving old routes.

The future points toward an integrated, low-carbon transportation network. Electric buses, trains, vehicles and bicycles, multi-use pathways, and passenger-first ferries and water taxis. Pilot projects in Washington State testing passenger-only boats between Bellingham, Friday Harbor, and Port Townsend, and Gulf Islands advocates calling for similar services to link ferry terminals directly to villages (e.g., Aqualink).

Electric ferries could work in concert with next-generation technology like Harbour Air’s “eBeaver,” the world’s first fully electric commercial seaplane, along with great pathways for electric bicycles for both personal transportation and small cargo delivery. Taken together, these projects suggest that our islands could pioneer a transportation system that is not only cleaner, but also truer to the values of connection and reciprocity that define life in the archipelago.

That intersection of mobility and celebration is modeled by cycling and passenger-boat festivals like Tour de Lopez and Tour des Îles, and by the upcoming Hands Across the Water events. In the San Juans, the Tour de Lopez draws hundreds of cyclists around Earth Day on quiet rural roads, with celebration stations along the way. Across the border, the Tour des Îles links the Southern Gulf Islands each June, turning water taxis into festive shuttles for bikes and riders between Salt Spring, Pender, Galiano, Mayne, and Saturna. And, this Autumn Equinox 2025, Orcas Islanders will “boat-pool” the party to Salt Spring, where they’re offered music, collaborative solution seeking, and an ebike ride, to boot.

These events prove that transportation isn’t just about getting from place to place — it’s also about how communities gather, share food, showcase the arts, and celebrate their islands. From these rides we can see the next step: mobility as a cultural asset, not just an infrastructure challenge.

Joyful Festivals of Belonging

Of course, there are countless other innovations to share: housing and employment solutions, school gardens and sustainability education, small-scale organic food and markets, governance (think public utility districts like OpalCo & NSSWD and island-scale counties/regional districts), health and elder care, and more. But, when it comes down to it, island connection is rarely only about infrastructure or policy. It’s the festivals, music, food, and shared adventure of life that make us feel like one people across many shores.

Whether it’s our Farmers Markets, Salt Spring’s Applefest, Orcas Island’s Solstice Parade, Galiano’s musical walkalong, or creative and agricultural fairs that bless both archipelagos, these celebrations of nature and creativity are the glue of island identity. Volunteerism and pro-active, creative grassroots action make many things happen.

Tourism boards are beginning to embrace this spirit. In the Southern Gulf Islands, the focus is on regenerative tourism that enriches both community and ecology.

While we may be divided by a line on a map, we remain one archipelago — a community of archipelagers. If we already share the same seas, the same challenges, and the same joy of celebration, then why not also share solutions?

For me, these crossings aren’t just ferries and festivals — they’re relationships. From Penelakut to Canoe Island, clam gardens to nettlefests, each has opened my life to more — more love, more connection across landscapes, more learning.

This school year my daughter chose to spread her wings and try something new at SEEC on Saturna Island, while my son bravely enjoyed his first sleepaway camp at Canoe Island French Camp. Like them, I am growing too — through reciprocal relationships with other islanders and Indigenous Knowledge Keepers.

All these ties remind me that to live as an archipelager is to live life in motion, across tides and islands. At this point, it’s startlingly obvious: I need a boat.

On the ferry, I was introduced to an unassuming man who spoke quietly—and persistently—of clams. We were travelling to the opening of an ethnobotanical garden on SḴŦAḴ / Mayne Island. I tried asking about family and life, but ZȺWIZUT / Carl Olsen tenaciously stuck to clam gardens. “Would you help bring Salt Spring children and community to the clam gardens at W̱ENÁ¸NEĆ, at Fulford Harbour,” he asked, “so they can learn to care for this food source?”

I agreed. Before the event, a pair of rainbow-irridescent clamshell earrings jumped out at me at the thrift shop—a good sign!

When I met ZȺWIZUT, I was just emerging from a total mental shutdown following a shattering divorce. Following his request, teacher Alison Bain and I organized school field trips three Junes in a row, guided by Coast Salish Elders and supported by Parks Canada (Gulf Islands National Park Reserve). And, the past two National Indigenous Peoples Weekends featured Clam Garden Community Events. As a botanist with a Masters in fisheries, this project helped me come out of my own clamshell—restoring wonder for the natural world and our place in it.

That first cool, misty morning in June, children and teachers hauled carafes of tea and campfire supplies down to the beach to meet W̱SÁNEĆ Knowledge Carriers, ZȺWIZUT and Mark Sampson, plus the Parks Canada crew at the W̱ENÁ¸NEĆ Sea Gardens at a low, 0.3m tide.

As far as we could see, an elevated stone wall followed the contours of the shoreline beyond the beach. ZȺWIZUT explained that this 800-meter-long, 15-meter-wide elevated rock reef was constructed over 4,000 years ago to create ideal habitat for butter clams and many other tasty species to thrive.

Over 700 clam gardens have been mapped from the San Juans to Alaska; 65 are in the Southern Gulf Islands alone. ZȺWIZUT welcomed us and taught everyone to say “ÍY, SȻÁĆEL” (pronounced “Aye Squaychel”), which means“Good day” in SENČOŦEN. He spoke of the collaborative work between Coast Salish Nations and Parks Canada over the past decade to restore clam gardens, such as this one, throughout the archipelago.

In his slow, deep voice, Mark Sampson read aloud from So you want to visit a Sea Garden?. “Listen closely for the symphony of clams, welcoming us to their beach,” turning to show us bold illustrations that mirrored our surroundings.

“When the tide is out, the table is set,” added ZȺWIZUT, sharing a proverb that speaks to the abundance this food-producing ecosystem.

Erich Kelch from Parks Canada led a photo quiz called “Can You Eat That?”—sea cucumbers (YES!), crabs, seaweeds, urchins, moon snails (NO!), chitons, and of course, many species of clams.

We spotted red rock crabs, purple sea stars, sea cucumbers, and even octopus nesting holes in the wall. Clams squirted all around.

“I found a giant butter clam on my first dig!,” exclaimed a 10-year-old boy, “I was built for digging clams!”

The team steamed a pot-full of richly flavoured, salty butter clams, and nearly all the children dug in. Afterwards, we reburied the empty shells—saying HÍ SW̠ KE / thank you—so their calcarious minerals could support new shellfish and sealife.

The night before, ZȺWIZUT stayed at our house and dined with me and the kids. He’d spent his career as an addiction counselor, and I was struggling with alcoholism in the family. Over coffee, we shared what weighed on our hearts. For months afterwards—both early risers—we exchanged sunrise photos.

Later, Spune’luxutth / Penelakut Elder Ken Thomas and marine ecologist Emily Shaver joined a field trip, providing a perfect example of two-eyed seeing, blending Indigenous knowledge with scientific insight.

Emily had completed her Master’s research with input from Ken. By installing tiny heat domes on both walled and unwalled beds, she demonstrated that clam gardens can help clams survive rising temperatures—showing how traditional practices can inform present-day climate adaptation.

Students experimented with the porosity of different beach substrates, showing that crushed shells, which were eroding onto the beach from the ancient middens there, help clams respire and stay cool by letting in more oxygenated water and reflecting the sun. Without shell hash, clams can suffocate in warm, dense silt.

Serendipitously, Ken leads Fisheries, Wildlife and Natural Resources for the Spune’luxutth. I’d just been assigned to support Penelakut Elementary with outdoor learning through my day job, and he introduced me to their education team.

Other days, students and Indigenous Ed staff gathered around the fire, listening to Elders’ stories as the ferry wake pounded the wall. The breakwater held, and the clam garden stayed calm.

On National Indigenous Peoples Day 2024, about twenty Salt Springers came out to learn more about sea gardens. My new boyfriend came, too, and it felt like the world was my oyster.

Robert Sampson had just returned from Sitka, Alaska, where he and others shared restoration practices with the Tlingit. He handed me a baggie of smoked, spiced butter clams. “Indian popcorn,” he said with a grin, but much more rich and chewey.

Ken Thomas demonstrated how cultivation—raking, aerating, removing seaweed—keeps clam beds productive.

That day, Parks Canada’s Erin Slade collected clam samples for genetic testing. Coast Salish Nations are exploring seeding beaches with well-adapted baby clams to accelerate recovery.

Last week, ZȺWIZUT and Erich joined us for dinner before presenting to a packed library crowd. ZȺWIZUT spoke of how runoff and upstream land use affect the health of these beaches.

“It’s not just for Indigenous people,” he said, “These gardens will feed all of us. We’ve got to keep them clean.”

Now it’s July. The month lacks an “R,” so we usually don’t harvest shellfish—but we can tend. I joined W̱SÁNEĆ youth and Salt Springers to maintain the wall, one rock at a time. Elders guided us to wedge each stone with care, so that tides and ferry wakes wouldn’t dislodge them.

We found that by working together, we could carry larger rocks to the wall and make it even more sturdy. How many others had cooperated like this over the eons?

“These rocks have been touched by countless ancestors,” said ZȺWIZUT. “You’re part of that tradition now.”

I’ve learned that clam gardens aren’t relics; They’re living systems—culturally rooted, climate-resilient, community-powered. Nature is resilient. As the beds are tended, the clams return, offering food and an inclusive sense of continuity.

Over the past three years, I’ve changed too—lifted by experiences of care and renewal. These sea gardens reminded me that humans can play a positive role in nature’s recovery through respectful relationships and collaboration—and in doing so, begin to heal ourselves.

There’s so much more to learn—for more information:

• WSANEC Leadership Council Clam Garden Restoration Project & Clam Gardens

• The Clam Garden Network

• Parks Canada Sea Garden Restoration

• Water Quality testing for Sea Garden Health in Fulford Harbour.

• If You Want to Visit a Sea Garden, book by Ray Henry Vickers

• The Pacific Sea Garden Collective

• Biohabitats Article about Clam Gardens

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Big thanks to ZȺWIZUT / Carl Olsen for the inspiration and commitment to share this knowledge to help us all with greater ocean health and food security for the future!

These field trips were made possible by the generosity of time from Indigenous Knowledge Carriers (ZȺWIZUT/Carl Olsen, Tom Smith, Ken Thomas, Robert and Mark Sampson, Charlene George, and others), instructors (Alison Bain, Jackie Borosa), SD64 Staff, school families, volunteers (Jordan Pastor, Renee Jenkinson, Ryan Dentry, and others), the HCTF Wild Schools Program, SD64 Indigenous Education (Shannon Johnston, Quentin Harris, Lorna Fraser, Amanda Poitras), Parks Canada (GINPR, Erich Kelch, Erin Slade, Emily Shaver, Alice Meyer, and others), SSI Indigenous Peoples Weekend (Jon Cooksey & Pam Tarr), Nature Salt Spring (David Denning and Kathleen Maser), and the SSI Foundation Indigenous Priorities Fund, and so many more — please let me know whom I’ve left out!

Saturna Sea Salt: Alchemical Purification

On Saturna Island, Ryan Dentry practices a quietly revolutionary form of salt-making. He collects seawater from pristine, remote shorelines—never after rain, to avoid runoff—and filters it through a 1-micron filter to remove microplastics.

Evaporation is achieved by energy-efficient induction heat. Imagine gentle curls of steam rising from the simmering pot on his covered porch, as cool misty rain patters the forest beyond. Carefully watched, he tends this saline solution. Once the salt crystals begin to form, they are slowly dried in a food dehydrator to preserve their texture and trace minerals. The result? A fluffy flake salt with a bold flavour, reflecting the Salish Sea’s mineral complexity.

Salt Spring Sea Salt: Innovative Osmosis

Just across the water, Robert Steinbach produces a wide-variety of chef-inspired flavoured salts. After sea water is concentrated using reverse osmosis, the by-product of pure drinking water is bottled and sold. The remaining salty concentrate is then boiled in special stainless steel pots until it crystallizes and is lifted out and gently dried to create delicate fleur-de-sel crystals.

This bright and crisply sharp-flavoured salt is then blended with herbs, smoked wood, or even local wine to create wildly popular gourmet varieties.

San Juan Island Sea Salt: Solar Transformation

In the extended archipelago of the San Juans, using greenhouses filled with large, shallow pans of seawater, the salt forms slowly through solar evaporation. This gentle method yields moist, mineral-rich crystals with a mellow flavor and soft crunch—testament to the power of sun, wind, and patience.

This family-run business also offers salt and chocolate-chip cookies and delicious salt-caramels. Their madrone-smoked salt reflects the scents of native coastal woods.

Home Terroir

Artisan sea salt is a practice—a return to simpler ways of living. Some Islanders simply collect seawater and leave it over the winter on their woodstove in a cast iron pot. This slow reduction eventually leaves behind a crust of sea salt, the ultimate well-seasoned home spice.

What unites all these salts—whether solar-dried, smoked, boiled, or woodstove-simmered—is a commitment to local character. Each salt captures the alchemical nature of its refinement and a bit of its maker’s essence.

As the world grows more industrialized, there’s comfort and meaning in returning to elemental crafts. Each time I sprinkle this hand-crafted salt onto our scrambled eggs, blend it into a nettle pesto, or stir it into a seedy sourdough, I feel grateful to and connected with the Sea and the saltmakers who bring it to me.

Stay posted for Chapter 2: This summer, we’re hosting a Salt Tasting Flight with Sonniers (saltmakers) and chefs featuring these three Island-produced salts, along with Atlantic and Mediterranean classics (Sel de Guérande and Sel de Camargue) and mystery salts. Guests will blind-sample and describe flavours of the different salts on sliced boiled potatoes, on warm baguette with unsalted butter, on a soft-boiled egg, in a pesto hummus, and sprinkled on vanilla ice cream with fruit…

Xtra Salty Factoids*:

• Salt is one of three sacred substances in Western alchemical tradition: the Tria Prima. Salt represents the body: the physical, material, and fixed aspect of existence. Sulphur (soul, combustion, passion, volatility) and Mercury (spirit, fluidity, transformation, connection) are anchored by salt, offering form and stability. Salt is purification.

• Roman soldiers were partly paid in salt—this is the origin of the word "salary". The word "soldier" comes from sal dare ("to give salt"). Salt has been a global currency for millenia.

• In India, Gandhi’s famous 1930 Salt March was a turning point in the Independence Movement. In March, Gandhi and 78 followers set out on a 240-mile walk from his ashram at Sabarmati to the coastal village of Dandi to make salt from seawater, defying British laws that banned Indians from producing or collecting their own salt and forced them to buy heavily-taxed British salt, instead. By the time Gandhi reached Dandi on April 6, thousands had joined the march. His simple act of picking up a handful of salt became a powerful symbol of civil disobedience, sparking nationwide protests and mass arrests—including Gandhi himself. The Salt March galvanized the Indian Independence Movement and drew international attention to the injustice of British rule.

*see Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky for more fascinating stories, facts, and insights about salt’s enormous influence on human civilization.

My grandfather was a German, born and raised in Berlin. His family was also Jewish, which led to his immigration in 1939 at age 14 to the United States to live with his Uncle Richard to avoid the concentration camps.

Over his lifetime, my Opa wrote 100’s of letters and maintained close contact with nearly all of the cousins who escaped—introducing me to a global network of close, extended family, many of whom shared intense stories about family heros and tragedies during the War.

My Jewish roots have always been important to me. As a child, I asked to attend Jewish “Sunday School” to learn more, renewed Passover family traditions, and joined a Kabbalah study group as a teenager. As the family historian for my generation, I’ve collected photos, stories, and family trees of our ancestry, including for my other 75%, which is mostly Swedish and Scottish, grounded in Mormon, Protestant, and Catholic faiths. I’ve landed now with Unitarian values, celebrating a selection of Wiccan, Jewish, and Christian holidays, with a meditation practice. Our cousins around the world remain important people in my life.

So, when the “Cousins” organized a family history gathering in Berlin, I was definitely IN. Big thanks to my mother, my three siblings and about thirty others spent three days together this May 2025 visiting the homes, schools, and businesses of our ancestry there, learning from family historian Tim Hirsch, along with guides and museums.

What we cousins who gathered have in common is that we are all descended from Samuel Genserowski (1853-1917) and Fanny Hirschfeld (1839-1913).

We don’t know a lot about them, except that Sam came from what is now Lithuania to Berlin to be healed at the Jewish Hospital there, due to an injury from a horse, then met Fanny, who ran the boarding house where he lodged. They opened a cigar shop and had five children, including Rosa (1873), Richard (1875), and Alex (1882)… from whom the cousins at the gathering are descended.

On this visit, it was such a pleasure to visit the old cigar shop on Steinstrasse, above which lived the family. It is now used as an office for an architecture firm, and the owners kindly led us through.

On this visit, we visited neighbourhoods where our ancestors lived, including my grandpa’s childhood appartment near where Albert Einstein grew up. We also visited the train station from which many relatives were deported to concentration camps around Europe. And, we got to tour a family bakery and flour mill along the River Spree, where many family holiday gatherings took place before the war.

That was then. This is now. While it’s important to remember the past so that we can hopefully not repeat it, it’s also important to explore new connections and possibilities. Following our Berlin gathering, Ryan and I were hosted along the Baltic Sea with a German family from Hamburg whom we’ve grown close with. From them, we heard stories of hunger, of East German lifestyles, and of the slow way that Germany changed before the War, with many not believing the horrors that they would hear of. This family has to contend with WWII on a regular basis, with small golden plates in sidewalks where people were removed to concentration camps, and school visits to Auschwitz and other museums.

I have such mixed emotions about our German-Jewish family history. On one hand, I grew up with my grandfather speaking German with his mother—I even took German lessons for a while—and we ate lots of liverwurst and brats, sauerkraut, gooseberries and German desserts. Germany even granted my siblings and I European citizenship in reconciliation. On the other hand, how can one forgive the horrors of the Holocaust, the destruction of families, the complete disrespect for human worth, and the cold-blooded robbery and killing of so many people? In my lifetime, I have the WWII to thank for a global network of close family ties and a greater awareness of the role we must all play in making peace and honouring human rights. I am grateful for the ongoing reconciliation that Germany has engaged in, and it inspires me to participate in meaningful reconciliation work here in Canada.

Since childhood, I’ve been aware of horrors happening all over the globe—in the Middle East, Rwanda, Nicaragua, Sudan… and I know that the work for peace and mutual respect is never done. Recently, I hosted a Tea Party for Peace and collected some pertinent quotes:

“Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly buidling new structures.” - John F. Kennedy

“It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it.” - Eleanor Roosevelt

“Peace comes from within, do not seek it without.” - Buddha

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; Only light can do that.” - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Before my grandfather passed, he watched the rise of Trump in the U.S., and he said it felt just like the rise of Hitler in his youth. He still remembers watching Hitler ride by in parades and he saluted along with others, so as not to stand out. So, the question I’m left with from our family visit to Berlin is:

What can each of us do today for global peace, fairness, and respect in the face of corruption, violence, and human disregard?

Each of can play a different and unique role. For me: I can meditate. I can shine a light towards a better tomorrow, helping envision and move society towards a greater connection with Nature, healthy transport and lifestyles, and mutually-respectful community. I can nurture children. I can donate to non-profits doing environmental, humanitarian, and world peace work. I can plant some veggies and share foraging experience. I can reach out to friends and relatives around the world to build a network of mutual support, so that we can weather the storms to come.

Overall, I am hopeful. One of my favourite quotes comes from MLK, Jr. and this journey to Berlin certainly supports its veracity:

“The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long, But it Bends Toward Justice.”

***

I can’t acknowledge enough the time and effort that many of my relatives put into organizing this wonderful gathering in Berlin — Donald Hirsch, Juliet Hanfling, Gens Johnson, and Tim Hirsch were the official organizing committee, and many others played important roles. Big thanks to Tubtim for her wonderful shared photography!

“You burn more calories on an ebike,” says David Elderton, Owner of Hilleater Bikes, “Because you actually ride it!” I couldn’t agree more.

Bike-camping is what led us to move here. It wasn’t just the wineries and beaches that captivated us, but the invigorating conversations with locals and the honesty of trust-based farmstands made this place feel like home–a place where our children could grow up in a strong community, chasing chickens and eating weird-shaped vegetables. Before we moved here, and with a babyseat and sometimes a trailer, too, I’d cycled us all over Portland, Oregon and Lyon, France. Once on-Island, even though our home is central, I made excuses to not ride my ten-speed to the store or to playdates, due to the steep hills and narrow, gravelly shoulders. The ebike set me free.

On these winding, hilly roads, ebikes offer a surprising safety advantage over traditional bicycles. The electric assist helps you keep a steady pace uphill, reducing drivers’ need to pass. Smooth starts at intersections and on slopes mean less wobbling, and disc or hydraulic brakes help you descend with control. Still, there’s work to be done for everyone to feel safe cycling here.

Our communities need better bike lanes and pathways, lower speed limits, and more driver awareness. On these Islands, if you want something done, you have to sign-up and help make it happen. So I joined Island Pathways—a charitable society that’s been championing active transportation on Salt Spring since 1988. Together, we’ve distributed reflective gear and helmets, hosted community events, sponsored bike skills courses, and even purchased a tiny bike lane sweeper. Change is slow, but it is happening.

“I’ve been using an ebike on Mayne Island since 2013 and have travelled many tens of thousands of kilometres without any fossil fuel use and well under a $100 worth of electricity to recharge my battery for that whole distance,” says Jim Travensy of Mayne Island. “Ebiking can replace huges numbers of vehicle trips, which make roads safer for everyone.”

Author of the blog and book series, Let’s Go Biking, Colleen MacDonald writes: “The Islands are hilly, but ebikes are changing the scene and allowing people to explore further and farther.” Plus, they’re helping us shift toward healthy, low-carbon travel and regenerative tourism.

When your main fuel is food—plus about five cents worth of electricity per charge—your footprint shrinks dramatically. Studies show that ebike tourists outspend car travelers by 40% or more on average, not just on meals but by staying longer and seeking out local experiences. Slower travel makes it easier to stop at farmstands, art studios, and beaches.

Multi-use trails like the Lochside (to Victoria), the Great Blue Heron Way (to Vancouver), and bike lanes to the Trans Canada Trail (to Nanaimo) connect the Islands to urban centres from each ferry terminus. Bonus: you’ll never have to wait for the next ferry with a bike, there’s no extra charge to bring it aboard, and seniors ride free to and from the Islands Monday-Thursday, including your bicycle. On Salt Spring’s buses, place your bike on the rack, remove the battery and carry it onboard with you.

Elly Blue’s Bikenomics explores these ripple effects for both travellers and residents—less road maintenance, improved public health, stronger local economies—when more people ride. Medical journals state that regular cycling adds, on average, two fit years to your lifespan.

Whether you’re a local or visitor, together we can create a positive feedback loop for safer cycling. As more people choose to cycle, driver awareness increases and public demand and prioritized investments in cycling infrastructure grow.

Encouragingly, over the next 20 years, CRD Regional Parks plan to construct multi-use pathways linking ferry terminals to village centres on every Southern Gulf Island. Mayne Island’s new 2m-wide crushed gravel trail to Miners Bay path was recently completed for ~$3.5 million. On Pender, the Schooner Way Trail is underway at millions per kilometre, including donated materials. Early estimates top $80 million for Salt Spring’s 20km link from Fulford to Vesuvius, via Ganges. This dream will need a lot of political will to come true.

Islanders are already making small, meaningful changes. Galiano has bike pull-outs along Porlier Pass Road, plus tools and charging stations at the South Ag Hall, the Library, and the Conservancy’s Millard Learning Centre. Pender’s Driftwood Centre has outdoor outlets near Vanilla Leaf Café and every first Tuesday, you can get your (e)bicycle repaired at the Recycling Depot. On Mayne, you can recharge at the Ag Hall, Library or the Farm Gate Store. Salt Spring offers charging at the library and Ruckle Park, to name a few.

As Robert Pirsig wrote in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: "On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming." On an ebike, you can hear the birds sing.

With warm weather upon us, it’s time to dust off your bike and pump up those tires. If hills are holding you back—rent an ebike! More of us than ever are pedaling clean transport.

Maybe the best reason to ride apart from health and the environment is to have fun, meet one another and build community. Exploring these Islands on bicycle as an “archipelager” has introduced me to so many fine folks. Below are some of our favourite routes and highlights from each island. May they inspire your next great ride and forge some new Island connections.

A Perfect Day: Island-by-Island Callouts

After cycling the Southern Gulf Islands many times, I’ve distilled our most memorable moments into single-day trips, with options for overnights and day-two adventures. This summer, Aqualink will run passenger ferries with bike transport on weekends, and Tour des Iles offers inter-island travel over National Indigenous Peoples’ Day and Summer Solstice weekend—an ideal time to explore on two wheels.

ṮEḴTEḴSEN / SATURNA

Start with coffee on the ferry, then bike straight up Mount Warburton Pike. The ride winds through warm breaths of sweet bark-scented forest breeze along a dirt road and out to a shockingly stunning overlook above the raptors. Hike the bluff trails through old-growth Douglas fir before heading back down to the General Store Café. On Saturdays, you’ll find an outdoor market and Free Store alongside—perfect for picnic supplies or a deckside breakfast burrito and coffee.

Continue on to East Point. Pause at the interpretive overlook by the weather station to hear Indigenous voices praying for Orcas and the land, then walk to the point for a picnic. Watch sea lions and whales, and tune into the SIMRES live underwater hydrophones (scan the QR on the Foghorn Building). On your way back, cool off with a dip at Russell Reef, or detour to Winter Cove Trail to watch Boat Pass tides and learn about native plants. Wrap up near the ferry dock with ice cream at Dee’s or games and poutine on the Lighthouse Pub deck, timed perfectly for a sunset cruise home.

Overnight? Camp at Narvaez Bay, glamp near the ferry at Arbutus Campground, or treat yourself at Saturna Lodge or a local B&B.

Day Two: Bike to Taylor Bay Trail near Sage Hayward Winery, grab lunch at the Feral Goat Bistro, then kick back at Thompson Park beach before biking back over the hill and home.

Contacts:

• Saturna EcoBike Adventures: saturnaecoadventures.com — Four solar-charged e-bikes, open May 1. Run by Robin and Anthony.

• Mutiny Bike Repairs: Lee Bly, 250-986-9689. mutinycycles@proton.me. Based at Arbutus Campground.

Swiikw / GALIANO

Step off the ferry and head straight for pastries and warm drink at one of Sturdies Bay’s excellent bakeries. If it’s Saturday, stop at the thriving Farmers Market and Thrift Store at Lions Park, then bike out and up to the Bluffs parking area. From there, hike the ridge to your perfect picnic perch.

Return along Georgeson Road. If it’s a Sunday, pop into the Galiano Museum to learn about Indigenous & settler history. In the mood for Thai? Barbeque? Picnic? You have options near the Daystar Market. Then, cruise onwards to Montague Provincial Park. Learn from Interpretive signs, hike to the point, and lounge on the sandy beach. On your way back, enjoy a drink at the Crane and Robin at the Harbour Marina.

If you’re feeling fancy, book ahead for a meal at Pilgrimme. Back at the ferry terminal, grab a bottle of Indonesian sauce from the Max & Moritz food cart. Early? Lounge on beach’s flat rocks, browse the Yellow House art exhibits, or get lost in Galiano’s provocative bookstore.

Overnight? Camp at Montague, unwind at the Galiano Inn, or find a quirky Airbnb.

Day Two: Bike out Porlier Pass Road to The Pink Geranium, stopping to recharge in the Indigenous Medicine Garden at the Galiano Conservancy’s Millard Learning Centre. On the return, explore a beach access point or duck into Retreat Cove to see the shimmering cave walls. Wrap up with pizza and a view at the Galiano Inn near the Ferry home.

Contacts:

Galiano Adventures: http://www.galianoadventures.com/. Frank Moyle rents 4 ebikes, and offers shuttle service to the ferry.

The Pink Geranium: https://www.pinkgeranium.com/, contact Jesse Keefer or staff at 250-539-2677, up to 8 ebike rentals.

Bike Repair: Nathan Hodgins, text 604-409-0048.

SDȺY¸ES / PENDER

Pedal past donkeys and farmstands to the Pender Islands Museum at Roe Bay. If the tide’s right, you can walk the little islet there. Continue along the dirt road to the Roe Lake trailhead, and walk your bike through forest to the lake—just the right temperature for a dip, though you may startle a loon!

After a steep descent through arbutus groves, you’ll find yourself in the Magic Lake neighborhood—home of the legendary Cheesecake Fridge at 4882 Pirates Rd. Amazingly, “The Fridge of Wonders” (stocked with vegetables) is DIFFERENT from “The Cheesecake Fridge,” two houses down. Savour the ultimate creamy decadence before riding along the future Schooners Bay Trail for a slow-mo drive-by of Slow Roast Coffee. Pick up picnic supplies for later at Truss Farm Foods before a bumpy descent to Medicine Beach, an ancient village site. The way the sunlight reflects off the water and up into the trees, shimmering the coniferous forest, is deeply medicinal.

Cruise on, over hills and dales until gravity brings you screaming into the Driftwood Centre for delicasies at the Vanilla Leaf Cafe (and a little charge-up for the bikes) and Talisman Books. Continue north to Hope Bay to visit the Pender Islands Conservancy‘s brilliant storefront teaching about wildlife and habitat. Consider buying loving gifts at Pender Island Chocolates.

Then ride across the island via Port Washington Road, passing sheep, geese, and the dazzling Renaissance Studio Gallery, where Milada’s art and sparkly bling await. Cruise back to the ferry past friendly golfers, with time to soak up sun and watch the cormorants dry their wings.

Staying over? Camp at Shingle Bay or Prior Centennial. Glamp at The Woods or Port Browning Marina. Or splurge at Poets Cove or a unique B&B.

Day Two: Bring a pannier of snacks and ride the South Island to the road’s end. Hike the rugged coastline to a driftwood fort picnic. On the way back, stop at one of Poets Cove’s cafes and read about Indigenous history there. Pack your swimsuit—there’s a heated pool waiting. On the way back, skip stones at Mortimer’s Spit before the bridge.

If you’re there on a Saturday, don’t miss the lively Pender Farmers Market!

Contacts:

• Otter Bay Marina: otterbay-marina.ca — Craig rents up to 8 e-bikes.

S,ḴŦAK / MAYNE ISLAND

This Island shaped like a rabbit riding a crocodile is great for loop rides. Start with the Japanese Gardens at Dinner Bay first thing to set the tone for the generosity of spirit and natural beauty here. Ring the deeply sonorous bell, which throbs gently with a healing hum as you lay your ear to it.

Turn around and follow the new trail from the ferry to Miners Bay, passing the Indigenous Welcome Figure honoring Felix and Emma Jack: “Accept and respect that nothing in life is static. All are embraced.” Fuel up at Sunny Mayne Bakery, home of the mighty CRONUT. Fuelds, follow the coast uphill toward Georgina Point Lighthouse—a marvellous outpost, exposing you to vast expanses of teeming waters.

Loop back along Campbell Bay Road, stopping at the Farm Gate Store for picnic supplies—don’t miss the Deacon Vale salsa. Recharge and browse Envision Gallery & Mayne Island Books.

Eventually, you may decide to bike onwards towards Bennett Bay–stopping to admire the innovative Ollas at the Clay Works next to the Hardware Store. Park and walk out to Campbell Point and dine in Nature’s paradise.

Follow Arbutus Drive to the private lane connecting to Steward Road, then on to Horton Bay and Henderson Park. It’s a beautiful hike to the overlook. Then walk your bicycle to Punch’s Alley, and bicycle out to the Glen Echo cut-through, where a wooded multi-use trail brings you back to Wood Dale Road and to the Ferry.

More time for Mayne? Sleep at a cob Airbnb or one of the resorts. On your second day, be sure to visit Joyce Kallweit’s Meadowmist Farm for sheep wool products and practical life advice, gather art supplies at the Dragonfly Gallery, and find yourself atop Mt. Parke Park to sketch the sky. If it’s a Saturday, be sure to visit the brand new Ethnobotany Garden and Indigenous Art displays located just behind their fantastic thrift stores, right across the street from the musical and vivacious Farmers Market. While away the afternoon at Mayne Island Brewing, and your day is complete.

[Personal Note] Mayne Islander, Brian Dearden ebikes every day. After an invigorating conversation, he offered us a ride back to Ganges in his water taxi to extend our adventure. His boat can carry at least four ebikes and riders (contact him for ebike tour ideas at 250-539-0715).

[Personal Note] One night sleeping out under the stars at Seal Bay during the Campbell Bay music festival, I woke to gleeful yoops and a string of white fairy bike lights descending Georgina Point Road across the bay and out onto the public dock, followed by splashes and laughter that receded into the night. At sunrise, three orcas poofed by, traveling out Active Pass.

Contacts:

Mayne Island Home Hardware: 250-539-2929. They rent up to six ebikes from their store.

ĆU¸ÁÁN / SALT SPRING & REGION

While this article focuses on the quieter Southern Gulf Islands, Salt Spring is often part of the journey—and well worth a spin.

If arriving via Long Harbour or Vesuvius, try the North End Loop: up Sunset Drive and back via Walkers Hook and Robinson to Upper Ganges Road to return to the four-way stop at Central. Snack stops include gooey cinnamon buns at North End Farmstand, seafood and sushi at Off The Hook, coffee-on-the-go from Hen & Hound, and artisanal treats from Francis Bread and Forest Moon Chocolates. Stop by Salt Spring Glassworks for handmade treasures like banana slugs and sea stars.

From Fulford Harbour, take an immediate right (after grabbing picnic supplies at the Mercantile) out Morningside Road, then left on Sunnyside. Walk your bike up the scenic boardwalk trail to South Ridge Drive and grab a Salt Spring Fruitsicle. Continue toward Ruckle Park, then return to Ganges via the quieter Stewart and Beddis Roads.

Salt Spring makes a great launch point—or landing pad—for deeper island adventures.

Contacts:

Outspokin Bikes: https://www.outspokinbikeshop.com/. They rent up to 25 ebikes (!!!) in Ganges Village.

[Personal note] Cycling has led us to many community by-donation soup lunches—Pender’s is on Fridays at the Community Hall, often with live music. Galiano’s is Mondays, Saturna hosts one on Tuesdays in winter, Mayne Island’s MIALS Lunch Bunch is every other Wednesday (by reservation), and Salt Spring’s senior lunch is open to all on Thursdays. These warm meals are a great way to meet locals and feel right at home.

Safety Gear (side-bar):

Riding the Gulf Islands is super fun. It’s also kind of dangerous if you’re not prepared. The roads are narrow and winding, often with no shoulders at all.

• Brightly-coloured, reflective clothing (consider fairy wings or feather boas!) and a helmet.

• Light up with multiple white front headlamps and flashing red on backpack and rear rack. Bring extra batteries or charging cord. Ebiking the Islands sometimes means early or late ferries in the dark.

• My personal favourite is a rear-view mirror installed on the left handlebar.

• Some panniers for whatever you may pick up along the way & a small backpack for the impromtu hike.

• Snacks (i.e., chocolate, granola bars, fruit) and water.

• Raingear — Rainpants and jacket seasonally. Wellies are appropriate year-round — these count as formal wear here.

• A small towel or thicker scarf for that spontaneous ocean or lake dip, and to wrap that amazing mug or glass art you might find.

• A phone charger, your phone.

• Map and a sharpie for planning your route and stops along the way.

• Your ebike charging cord, and a power strip for your friends.

• Oh, and money.

• Find more safety tips here: https://southerngulfislands.com/cycling-in-the-southern-gulf-islands/

• Join ISLAND PATHWAYS to advocate for safer walking & cycling infrastructure!

A shortened version of this article was published in the May/June edition of Aqua magazine: