Jericho Beach Hostel
Jericho Beach
The rapid descent down to the West Coast left me with an ear infection. It affected my balance and everything seemed to be leaning to one side. Our first port of call was a beautiful old backpackers hostel on Jericho beach, just outside the city. At night you could see the distant, shimmering lights of down town Vancouver. Next to the hostel was an old wooden theatre, we attended a Shakespearean play where the audience had to wear masks and it all felt a little surreal.
This was probably the best hostel for meeting new people. I ended up working there, changing beds for my board. There were a few truly weird people staying here though. I had to refuse cleaning one mans bed. ‘Beetle Juice’ (as I called him) had crapped in a bag at night and left it in a tied up plastic bag on the window ledge. His neighbours were complaining, as you can imagine. Another night I walked into the toilets to discover a guy stood totally naked just staring at me, there seemed to be an issue with this kind of behaviour at Jericho. The police were called one evening as a large Caribbean guy went stark-crazy claiming another room mate was watching him get undressed whilst naked himself.
Wreck Beach Love-In
One hot autumn day, my partner and I made the lengthy trek to Wreck nudist beach via the inspirational Museum of British Columbia. It was all a bit hippyish with live music and more naked people selling hot dogs at sun down. I remained clothed, however my partner went topless and soon attracted other ‘nakeds’. I later signed a petition to keep the beach free from commercial development and to keep the ‘bare bummed’ hot dog sellers in business.
Jericho Beach itself was a great spot for chilling out and spying on naked people heading out to Wreck… I’m joking of course. One evening we sat around a camp-fire underneath the blanket of stars, burning autumn drift-wood, and drinking Kokanee beer. The crackle of our fire, accompanied the gentle sound of the cold Pacific waves against the ancient native shore, a great place to get pissed and feel the true solitude of this great ocean and continent.
After the second week in Jericho, It started to feel a little like a prison block, rolling my little cleaning trolley past all the blokes in the morning “new pillow case mate”, and “have you got an bog roll there boss” etc. One bonus was being given ‘first dibs’ on lost property, something which was to haunt me later on. Jericho Beach Hostel was the first place I experienced ‘The Internet’ and ‘email’, I signed up for a hotmail address and never used it again as I’d forgotten the password and didn’t know anyone else on the Internet.
Vancouver Nights
Grouse Mountain Sunset
A highlight of Vancouver was a trip up Grouse Mountain. The cable car takes you high above the city, with panoramic views of Vancouver and forest filled Pacific islands reaching out like fingers of mother earth caressing the horizon.
Wherever we went, we seemed to have these locations to ourselves. It was late in the evening and the lights of Vancouver were beginning to glisten miles below, you just felt so tiny amid the vast forests and huge horizon. I seem to recall disturbing a large bees nest in some rocks and having to dodge the oncoming angry dive-bombing. If there were bears up there they were probably rolling around pissing themselves with laughter.
On the way up we had already found a $20 note on a park bench, being tight for money we took this a sign of good luck.
We were sitting in the restaurant on the East side of the mountain discussing our finances, when a middle aged lady from the opposite table got up and placed something into my partner’s hand. She clasped her hand tightly and muttered a few words in her ear.
Vancouver Skyline
Our conversation about lack of funds had been eavesdropped, and this generous lady placed a $20 note into my partners hand. $40 for free, in one day! Ace! It meant a lot, and the kind gesture reminded me of my late grandmother’s actions when we were kids “here’s 50p, but don’t tell your mom”.
Vancouver is full of skyscrapers, and we had the privilege of sneaking to the top level of the tallest office tower, knocking on a random door and asking if we could look around. Having an attractive partner stood next to me probably aided our cause and we were invited in to check out the views across Vancouver and the impressive landscape which presented itself below.
The city was very modern with no ‘pubs’ as we knew back in England. The music scene seemed slightly hindered, and early licensing laws were a bit strict. One evening we were salsa dancing in a jazz bar and some random guy invited us to a break-dancing competition using weird ‘gang-style’ hand gestures. We were enticed by the prospect of a T.V. network who were apparently covering the event.
Later that evening we set out, but It soon became evident the event was not quite as he had described, we had to walk into a Caribbean takeaway, and then down a ladder through a hatch in the kitchen floor, into a small concealed basement. There were no camera crew, just a painted circle on the floor with a DJ playing hip-hop and lots of shady characters.
Hastings Street
The break-dancers were OK but the atmosphere was moody, my partner didn’t feel safe so we left after a few bottles of Budweiser and it was probably for the best, as we were starting to attract the wrong type of attention. Even the DJ had admitted to us he was a bit nervous of some of the people who were arriving.
Downtown Vancouver was very colourful, with Gas Town and Hastings Street. Hastings Street is an area which backpackers are warned about entering. Parts are OK, but other parts are rife with down-and-outs, beggars, drug dealers, pimps and other pleasant folk. I decided to walk down a dodgy part of the infamous ‘Hastings Street’ for a dare, taking pictures as I went. Every character had his or her own patch and I was watched intently by everyone as I meandered down with my camera. I met a scar faced man from Luton who, after shoulder barging me, gave me his life story and tried selling me some ‘gear’. He advised me to be careful as I’d almost certainly be robbed if I continued down the street, but wished me well! I took his advice and crossed the road where it felt a little safer.
Vancouver Island & Home
Long Beach
After a couple of weeks in Vancouver we set sail for Victoria, navigating our way through the Strait Of Georgia.
Victoria was a funky little city, some great shops existed amid the tourist trail, such as the psychedelic record store in Fan Tan Alley (a place I could not resist).
I think I ate some of the finest pizza in my life in this little city. We were interviewed live on Canadian T.V. about the whale watching and how it was becoming commercialised, we were also embroiled in a pizza shop brawl between the owners and a gang of drunken youths who were arguing over, well, we weren’t sure but it was a complete stand off and we were in the middle of it as usual.
We went out whale watching, a tiny boat sped us right out into the Pacific and we were lucky enough to get ahead of an Orca whale pod. The Orcas were magnificent and very lively, breaching the surface, they were so huge and our boat so small in comparison – they came really close and we were all treated to their communications via a small receiver dipped into the water.
Orca Whale near Vancouver (by Matt Larson)
Seeing Orcas in their natural habitat made the Aquarium in Vancouver seem a bit cruel. In fact, Canada’s treatment of their native animals shocked me a little, trophy hunting of Black Bears on the Island is perfectly legal and some of the people seemed to be locked in a ‘Wild West’ mentality.
We had accumulated a small rabble of friends in Jericho who accompanied us to the Island, all really good folk and some brilliant times were had, from playing volley ball on a hotel roof, to eating chocolate covered insects, not to mention being accused of stealing cookies from a cat ridden hostel. It was also here where I was accused of stealing an Auzzies top, in actual fact he’d left it behind back in Vancouver and I’d claimed it as lost property after he’d moved on, gutting as it was a brand new fleece and fitted me just perfect. As I explained at the time, if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have got ot back. Not sure he saw it that way?
Upon returning to Vancouver, my partner and I decided that home was calling and money was dwindling, so we embarked on the long journey back to England. Canada was an epic 7,000 mile hike. On highways and through prairies, in endless redwood forests and cities, amid the Rocky Mountains and ending in the Pacific north west, all these things contributed to making this the journey of a lifetime.
